I am especially hard on socks. I can wear holes in them at an astounding rate. And once a pair of socks has holes in the soles, I really can’t stand wearing them any longer… unlike my incredibly frugal husband who has the tolerance to flip hole-y socks around, wearing the bottoms up, to extend the life. Call me spoiled, but that is one trick I refuse to adopt for the sake of pinching a penny. I would rather go without socks altogether.
I also think my rapid consumption of socks is why I’ve never really taken to knitting my own. I would wear them out faster than I could knit a pair.
Anyhow, after a recent cleaning out of my sock drawer my ever-so-creative little miss Opal sat pondering the pile of rejected and forlorn socks with holes. I could tell her brain was getting busy thinking of the promise all of those wool socks held. She politely asked if she could borrow my very sharp scissors and the next thing I knew, that girl had a pile of stretchy pot holder loops cut from the shafts of those socks that were headed to the rag bag.
And shortly after that, she had a pile of recycled, repurposed wool (and some cotton) pot holders.
Being that it is the winter and many moons since my children last had the opportunity to make a buck or two at our farmers’ market, and since their piggy bank’s bellies are sorely hungry, there is much talk of “I could sell this at market…”