I've been reading a lot of knitting blogs lately and everyone seems to be so proud of showing off socks. To me socks are like white bread, or doughnuts. Always there and not to be shouted about unless in some way extraordinary. At this point of my knitting life I can't imagine having too many socks, since commercial socks don't fit me (I like a longer leg than women's socks and have shorter feet than men's) and can't hold a candle to all those wonderful sock yarns out there. So this is a photo of the socks I just did in the last wash plus 2 pair pulled out of the summer/cotton drawer (the purple and blue stripe (Cascade Fixation) and the jazzy ones just above (Bendigo Miami wool/cotton)). Thus you see that unless it's lace or entrlac or something else exotic (and I'm not likely to do either of those techniques any time soon) socks are boring. I have a pair (not the WW2 socks) OTK for The Bear (seen above in his natural habitat, his den surrounded by computer hardware and boxes of books) because he is diabetic and needs very stretchy socks for his stubby legs. After his stay in hospital due to an abcess on his leg which resulted in a big hole and 5 weeks off work, we don't take chances on leg circulation. And I always have plenty of fuel for sock knitting (this assumes that some day the WW2 socks will be in the past) as this is a photo of the plastic bin of sock yarn showing Opal, Mountain Colors, Lorna's Laces, etc. waiting to be knit. The only socks I might do and shout about are some Scandivavian colourwork ones I have a pattern for.