Grandpa's Socks

 Let me set the scene for you: It's the first day of autumn in the colorful Midwest. Trees are just faintly showing traces of the splendor to come. The wind is blowing the smell of dry grass and apples around. The cornstalks shimmy against each other in the breeze making that 'dry bones crackle' noise. It's warm still. The kind of sunset-glow-warm that summer gets as it fades to fall. Warm enough still to wear tennis shoes and no jacket. Warm enough to have ankle socks on.

Enter: Grandma's house. Your face is rosy cheeked from the wind, not the cold. You have no sniffle of the nose from the slight chill. You are the picture of comfort and contentment. You pop your shoes off in anticipation of some cold apple cider and a doughnut. Skating carelessly across the linoleum in your ankle socks, you hear a gasp.

"Why...CAROLYN!! You aren't wearing any socks!!!"

Grandpa stares wide-eyed at your "bare" feet as you pivot to face him.

"I've got socks on, Grandpa."

-insert indignant 'hrumph' here-

"They are socks, Grandpa!!"

"You are going to catch a cold."

"Grandpa-"

"It's nearly winter."

(It's August 1st.)

"I'm fine. I swear."

"I'm getting you some socks."

"Grandpa..."

Grandma gives you a knowing, 'let him go' eyeroll and gets you some cider. Grandpa returns with a pair of his plush, deep-woods, electric orange-topped hunting socks.

"THESE are socks. Put them on."

"Okay Grandpa."

"Isn't that better??"

"Yes, much better. Yes. Thank you."

He smiles, shakes his head, and retreats to His Chair to watch the news again.

How many times has that scene, or a variation of played out in my Grandma's kitchen? Countless. My cousins, my sister, my friends, even vague acquaintances have had "real socks" lovingly but forcefully applied to their 'bare' tootsies time after time. My Grandpa is very adamant about the virtue of socks. I do not disagree that socks are lovely, in fact, I probably wear socks more frequently than most of my relatives (sparing Grandpa, Sock Police Chief). But there is just something so touching about Grandpa forcing you into a pair of his socks in the dead of summer. Something that says, "I am incredibly stubborn about how much I care about the warmth of your feet." It's silly. It's sweet. I love it. I just do.

Since learning to knit I knew it was required that I make Grandpa a pair of real wool soldier's socks. Months ago I finally set to it: picking a pattern, researching Civil War era socks, learning magic loop, and, at last, knitting them.

I didn't finish them in time for Christmas, but I'm almost happy that I gave them to him late. They weren't lost in the shuffle of other gifts. We were able to have a special moment. Last weekend I stopped over to his house. I had just grafted the toes that morning. My heart always fills when I get to bring my son over to see his Greats, but that day it was about to burst with anticipation of giving the gift of warm socks.

How many pairs of his was I instructed to take home over the years? How many times was I chided for going bare footed? I contemplated those things with each stitch. Delighting in the simplicity of the pattern and awaiting the joy of handing them over to him. When I finally did, the reaction did not disappoint.

"You MADE these!!!"

"Yes. I did."

"And they are...are they? Real? Wool?"

"Absolutely!"

"Well I-" he stood to pull his slippers off, "I gotta put them on!!"

Later that night he called me to tell me he was still wearing them. "If you've got warm feet, your whole body is warm!!" He said they were the best socks he's ever worn. Allow my to have a moment to recollect myself. 

"You gotta make yourself some!! So your feet are warm. You need some of these. You do!!"

 This is why I knit and crochet. To be able to return a favor done to me over so many years. To show care, compassion, and just...that heart thudding stupid-smile-on-your-face feeling of giving someone something you made and having them feel so blessed by it. When it happens, it's so real. So perfect.

I am so happy that I got these done and didn't wait for next week, next month, next year. It would have been horrible to procrastinate on these socks and have Grandpa never be able to enjoy them. Share handmade love while you still have time: don't regret that unfinished object.

New Twitter Account & How To Make: Coffee Soap

Have you ever come across an idea for a project that will not get out of your head? It just gets in your brain, takes root, and keeps itching away until you actually give in and embark on the project. It used to happen to me a lot. Read: daily. But lately, as I have been distracted by a certain little babu, my brain hasn't had too much free space for craft obsessions.

But since thing have settled in to a sweet little rhythm, my brain has been able to latch on to something: soap making. I saw an article on PopSugar about how to make soap using up old coffee grounds.

And I thought, "Well, I like coffee."

It's really super duper easy to make some fast soap. You can do it in an afternoon! To some, the melt-and-pour method of soap making is cheating because it involves using a premade soap base. In my mind, it's the safest method for me to make soap in an apartment. No lye, no fumes. Safe for baby and me! Are you sold on this? Let's get to it!!

Supplies:

Meltable clear glycerin soap (got mine from Michael's)

Old coffee grounds

Vanilla scent (optional)

Microwavable glass bowl

Spoons

Mold (I used candy making molds: $2 at Michael's) 

  

Step 1: Cube your wax

Most clear glycerin comes with pre-scored lines to cut 1 oz sections. For my mold I needed about 5 oz, but I cubed up 6 just to be safe.

Step 2: Melt wax

Follow the directions on your wax package for microwave melting. Mine said to start with 30 seconds, then melt and stir at 10 second intervals. 

Step 3: Add scent and coffee grounds

Just like the title says, yo. Mix in the scent and how ever much of the grounds you want. I did about 2 tbs of grounds, and 5 ish drops of the scent. 

Step 4: Pour into molds

While doing this, stir the glycerin a bit between pours to keep it from solidifying. Just make sure you don't drop your spoon into the mixture. Because it is annoying when that happens. Not that I know from experience or anything.

Once you are all done pouring your soaps, you can let the excess soap harden and save it for another pour. That's the beauty of melt and pour: you can reuse it as many times as you want! I didn't save mine because it was kind of a grounds-y mess. 

 Step 5: Wait for the soap to harden, then pop them out!

It takes about 40ish minutes, depending on the depth of your mold. You can pop them in the freezer to speed the process, but I saw no need to do that. 

Look how beautiful they look!! The pictures doesn't really do the prettiness justice. It's so deep and transparently and yummy. The soap is so great to use. It's got a great lather, and the coffee grounds are delightfully exfoliating. And the smell? Heavennnnnn.

You can spray rubbing alcohol on the bottom of your soap while it's wet to get rid of the ugly bubbles, but I didn't. These were just my practice ones. And plus the bubble side will be down when it's on the soap dish. Nobody is going to be critical. 

I can't wait to make more soap! I have so many plans for fun herb mix-ins. Have you ever tried to make soap? Cold Process? Melt and Pour?

In other news, I made a Twitter account today! Follow me! I'll follow you back. @LastinLineShop