Ribbit.

That's right. I had to frog some of Hubster's sock. Not all of it, but enough to set me back a day. And that's enough to make me angry with myself. I mean, who turns the heel of a sock without making the proper decreases? I picked up and integrated the heel stitches (you know, the stitches you slip when you're making the heel) and just started knitting around again like a fool, not realizing that just because the heel was attached to the rest of the sock, that doesn't mean it's going to be the shape of a Husband's foot. After I knitted about 3 inches, I started noticing that it wasn't really looking like a sock should. And, because the only "socks" I have ever knitted were a couple of gigantic stockings a year ago for Christmas, I didn't really know what I should be doing. I mean, after all... shouldn't a knitter who has no idea what she's doing abide only by pattern law at all times??? I guess I just got too excited about being on the home stretch of my very first ever real sock and forgot about the rules.

So for now, I've frogged those anarchy-ridden 3 inches and I'm back up to the heel again. Here's to rules! Hey, at least I knew enough to realize I was doing something wrong. Football Saturdays offer a perfect stretched-out afternoon to knit and cheer and yell at the tv. The sports announcers sound better, I think, with the tick, tick, click of my aluminum needles in the background anyway. :)