I Am an Inventor....
It's Wildfoote Luxury Sock Yarn in Rock and Roll. Very pretty. It reminded me a bit of a box of crayons (remember when you were little and you got a new box and you opened the lid and all the neat little points were all lined up and you put your face in there and inhaled the yummy, waxy smell? It reminded me of that.). Now, here's where the whole thing falls apart. I got the bright idea (a surefire clue that I should go lay down or something) of inventing a sock. I have lots of books on stitch patterns and surely I can put together something wonderful? (No, I apparently can't, and stop calling me Shirley.) The stitch pattern was actually pretty nice and it was even easy to remember. But the combination--lovely wool, lovely stitch pattern--somehow became an unholy alliance that gave birth to this (wait to look if you've just eaten or anything):
Dreadful. Utterly dreadful. I don't understand it, honestly. Something to do with how the color pooled? Some strange chemical reaction like potassium and water? (Well, probably not that...it's not like it exploded. Although nothing really would have been lost if it had.) Or the most likely solution: the knitting gods are messing me about again, having heard the words "I'll bet I can make a wonderful sock pattern all on my own!" They really hate that kind of thing. The sock monstrosity is going to the frog pond (I'll make sure there aren't any frogs in it, first. I can't be guilty of that kind of animal cruelty) and I'm going to attempt to show my humility by making a plain old vanilla sock out of it.
Do you think, though, that the gods will object to a red ribbing, heel, and toe? Y'all know how I am....crayon-hued yarn just isn't quite loud enough for my inner magpie, apparently.
I also made a hat for Dulaan (though sadly do not have a picture...I'll do that for tomorrow). If you live near me, you may be interested to know that Hilltop Yarns East is having a knitnight for Dulaan on Wednesday from 6 - 9. All yarn purchased to knit for Dulaan that night will be discounted. I think this is terribly way cool and I'm planning to go. Now, if anyone has any clues for me regarding how to make a striped hat without that little jog where the colors change, I'd be most grateful. If anyone further knows how to somehow repair my brain so that I can make pompoms that don't appear to have mange or be molting, even better. I'm seriously pompom impaired. I blame the high school cheerleaders for this. Scarred me for life.
Oh, and if you're interested in the knitnight and live near here but don't know how to find it or some such thing, don't hesitate to e-mail me. I'll steer ya in the right direction.
It is still somewhat arctic where we live. I don't want to say it's cold...but there are some very upset looking brass monkeys wandering around out there. They keep asking to use the welder....but I digress. The point is that the streets are slicker than snot, school is closed for the second day running, and I'm beginning to feel a bit like a housebound 6 year old. For that reason, I've compiled the following "List of Things to do When Housebound in the Snow (Besides Design Ugly Socks)":
1. Watch enviously as husband sleeps in; tickle his feet. Duck.
2. Tempt cats for the millionth time with expensive cat toy in which they have absolutely no interest.
3. Sort gummi bears by color.
4. Stare out at the snow and sigh heavily.
5. Watch daytime TV until nausea sets in (sadly this only burns up about 40 seconds.)
6. Invent and bake new cookie recipe.
7. Invent way to get chocolate off of cupboards after a bit of careless mixing.
8. Invent rationalizations for eating cookies. (I'm a pro--this doesn't take nearly as long as you might think.)
9. Put on husband's socks and skate on the hardwood floors. Look modest later when he comments on how lovely the floors look and how hard you must have worked.
10. Attempt to watch TV again; stop when Martha Stewart makes the stunning observation that "when you buy a colander, be sure to get one with holes in the bottom". (I swear, she really said this. I hate to be obtuse..but if it doesn't, isn't it just a bowl?)
11. Attempt to put on as many pairs of socks as possible in 3 minutes. Try to beat your best record.
12. Make anatomically correct snow angels.
13. Go to neighbors house and ask to borrow all the ingredients for your favorite recipe just to see what they say. (Apologize for the snow angels first.)
14. Go outside and stare up one of the trees until you can get someone walking by to do it, too. Giggle wildly.
15. Call a friend and, when they answer, say "Well? What do YOU want?"
16. Fill the living room with sand, put up a sun lamp, and lay on the floor in a bikini. Don't try for waves, though; cats hate waves in the living room. Husbands aren't so wild about it, either.
17. Carefully carve out the shape of a giant dinosaur footprint in the backyard. When husband comes home, tell him you thought you might have heard a strange animal in the back and ask him to go see if he can spot anything.
18. Challenge yourself to make a casserole out of as many items in the fridge and/or cupboards as possible. Give yourself a prize if it is remotely edible (the best prize is probably not having to eat it...).
19. Put snowballs in the freezer. Tell husband they're low fat, low calorie ice-cream balls.
20. Attempt to write your autobiography using only one syllable words.
All right--that's probably enough nonsense for one day. I'm gratefull for all of you, if I haven't said that before. You rock.