Travels of a devoted sock knitter, or "Why I learned to Magic Loop."

I absolutely LOVE to travel! Almost everything about the experience is fun and exciting. But, there are a couple things that send my stress level into the stratosphere. You know the story. It starts with, "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a full flight today." Gone are the days of leg room. "Miraculously, I had an empty seat next to me," said no knitter EVER. You're packed in with 200 of your closest strangers.

I usually travel with my husband. He loves the window seat. I, being an anxious flyer, DO NOT. I would rather not have visual conformation of the fact that I am thousands of feet above the earth. This presents the first problem, as it puts me squarely in the dreaded middle seat - conveniently sized to be smaller than the average infant car seat. Inevitably, another human (why is it always a 6 ft, 4 inch tall, non-knitter?) will settle into the much larger aisle seat, giving me ridiculously limited elbow (knitting) room.

Problem two: Said stranger is always sleep deprived and in need of a (my) shoulder to lean on.

Problem three: I cannot, for the life of me, seem to avoid dropping a double pointed needle between my seat and the sleeping stranger's seat at least three times during the flight. 

I have accepted problem one and two as the inevitable consequences of travel. However, although I am usually a thoughtful traveler, I can't abide knowing my beloved DPN is just under the seat. I grieve for it. I obsess over it, until I can't stand it any longer. Then, I practice/invent my best Yoga pretzel pose, to reach the needle that is almost at my fingertips. Disappointed, I wake the sleeping man. "Sorry," I say quietly. He is patient and kind. 

The second time the needle drops, my husband rolls his eyes and mouths silently, "AGAIN?" I am distressed. I check my watch. There are three hours until landing at our destination. The internal struggle between my polite self and my desire to knit is raging. Swiftly and decisively, polite me loses the battle. "Sorry," I say, again. Rumpelstiltskin grumbles and moves off my shoulder. I retrieve my needle with a conciliatory smile. 

The third time, I snatch wildly at the falling needle. My husband looks at me in disbelief. "Watch the movie," he suggests. "I don't like Steven Seagal," I complain. He rolls his eyes. "Sorry," I say, and wake the stranger for the third time. The exhausted man, who is probably a nice person in real life, mutters something like,"Are you kidding me right now, Lady?" My trip to the restroom is uneventful as I clutch my DPN tightly and murmur, "My precious."

And, that is why I learned to Magic Loop. Ahhhh.

Check out this video tutorial. Click here:

YouTube video for quick tutorial 


If you'd like to learn Magic Loop in person, stop by the shop. We'd love to help! You too, can avoid the disdainful looks of total strangers. 

Happy knitting!



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  • Diane Ruschke on

    I have felt your same internal struggle as I watch my needle rolling around my airplane seat! Well written!

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