In which we declare war on cold feet

Mysterious forces are afoot. First, all of my children sprouted holes in their handknit socks at exactly the same moment.  Second, I've noticed similar evidence of yarn fatigue in my own socks, four pair of which are currently awaiting surgery. And last, my remaining socks are disappearing off the drying rack with blinding speed.

Coincidence?  I don't think so.  It can only be sabotage!  Clearly, the minor deity of socks is unhappy.

There is only one thing to be done, and it is a desperate gamble:  I'm going to knit more socks for all of my children.

The likelihood of success is slim.  The threat of battle fatigue is overwhelming. But the job must be done.

I have unearthed the field manuals:



I have polished the arms:



And I requisitioned a new shipment of munitions, which arrived today.




All feet have been carefully examined to determine the best plan of attack and the number of troops and supplies that will be required to ensure victory.

The final problem, as is so common these days, is the exit strategy.  In earlier times, we might have reasonably expected to cover a pair of feet in one month. Judging by more recent campaigns, however, it might be wiser to anticipate a commitment of 5 months per pair of feet.  Using this framework, we can realistically expect total victory by the end of next winter.  Sounds like a plan.

But maybe we should by some slippers this weekend.