no socks for Bertie Wooster

I was going to do a sock-a-long on ravelry, wherein you follow a set of clues as they are revealed over a couple of weeks and knit up a mystery sock along with a group of other trusting sock enthusiasts.

Not this guy

But my yarn managed to be both too dark and too busy, so you couldn't even see all the little cables and zig-zags going down the leg of the sock. I ripped it out and cast on plain socks without a pattern. 3x1 ribbing, gusset heel, basic toe, DONE.

Portrait shot

Arty shot

Action shot

Glamour shot

I decreased across the top for visual interest, but it's still just a sock. However, it is still cold in the mornings, so just a sock is what I need.

But I'm sad about missing out on the mystery knit-a-long, because the Bertie Wooster socks turned out to be pretty damn deco-tastic.

This industry of knitting and produce portraiture brought to you by my post-illustration-completion existential panic. Happens every time. I finish a book and then look up to discover that the sun is shining and plants are blooming and holy shit what am I doing with my life why have I not drawn portraits or painted a still life or developed a successful web comic or built a studio I am a failure and my life is slipping by with nothing to show for it and then I remember that I didn't do those things because I was busy illustrating a children's book. And that now I can start the next one, because I'm not good at comics or oil painting or quitting my job to lurk in the basement - I draw goblins eating oranges, and I'm happy while I'm doing it. And then I feel stupid and finish the socks I was knitting and think about the next book.

Coming next: the assembly of a pdf dummy book; the agony of waiting for feedback/rejection from prospective agents.