Knitingale's Laws (plus pictures)

First things first--I must offer a Crayon Sock picture for Jo, who was dear enough to ask:

There be my insanely bright-colored feet. I'm not at all certain it isn't the colors as opposed to the wool that makes them so darned warm.

For Monica, a bit of kitty cat cheesecake:

(Sorry, Gracie isn't much for posing. I've told her that America's Top Model would never put up with this, but she doesn't seem to care...)

and some beefcake:

I know this looks like a thousand other Ed pictures, but look closely. This is his favorite sleeping spot--the top of the back pillow on the couch. If you really look, you'll see that he's gradually slipping into the crack between the pillow and the couch--his one foot is already lost. Usually he stays there until he falls all the way in. Then he becomes thoroughly disgruntled and stalks over to the fireplace, glaring at me over his shoulder as he does so because, somehow, it MUST be my fault. Stupid human.

So, Knitingale's Laws:
1. If, having come within inches of hypothermia in chemistry lab, one is actually organized enough to stuff a fleece jacket in one's backpack, the temperature of the lab will immediately change to something in the neighborhood of tropical beach. Conversely, if one gets fed up with digging around the now-unnecessary fleece and leaves it home, there will be a family of Eskimos building an igloo in the lab by morning. Forget wearing a heavy sweater--this only guarantees temperatures in the orchid-growing range.

2. No matter how many balls of sock yarn are in the sock yarn drawer, there will be no more than two that actually match well enough to think of using them in the same sock, especially if one wants to make a mosaic sock and has time to do it.

3. The aforementioned two balls of yarn will match...but they will not be the same weight.

4. This will not become apparent until two inches of sock have been completed and look, thanks to all the puckering, like a wooly raisin (in delightfully matching shades of blue).

5. If one then digs out a ball of Lorna's Laces yarn and attempts to make an entirely different sock, the first pattern tried will be all wrong for the colorway. The second will cause the color to pool badly. If one believes that knitting is "fun", this will start to go out the window at about the fourth attempt to start making a damned sock. The following photo is evidence of this law, and was taken after approximately six hours of knitting.

(What? You can't see any sock? It's the little bitty thing in the foreground, no doubt coated with the sweat of a half-crazed knitter. I hate it as much as I love it at this point, but it's hopefully going to be a Jaywalker when it grows up.)

6. If one has the forethought to stick a bag of pretzels in the car for after class, it will turn out to be chocolate dipped ones. Which is no real problem but, when eaten, these pretzels can be relied upon to shower the eater with tiny bits of chocolate.

7. Once a piece of chocolate falls, it can be further relied upon to land squarely between the legs of the eater/driver, so that it becomes essential to dig attractively in one's crotch while driving in order to avoid the inevitable melty chocolate spot on the pants.

8. The likelihood of actually rescuing the fallen chocolate in time is inversely proportional to the number of places a person must stop on the way home. More so if one is wearing white pants, which is why Ms. Knitingale does not OWN white pantsf(except scrubs, and Ms. Knitingale absolutely does not eat while wearing them. Not until they've already gotten stained with Betadine, anyway.)

9. Having opted to forego the remaining pretzels in favor of warm bread, if one then stops at Great Harvest and then walks out to the car holding a round of fresh baked bread in one hand and a buttered slice of Cinnamon Chip bread in the other (they give free slices of bread every time you go in...they're good people) while also clutching purse and keys, it is at this moment that the panic alarm on the car will accidentally go off, forcing one to choose between dropping fresh bread on the pavement or smearing butter down one's shirt.

10. This is even more likely if the shirt was a Christmas gift from Hubby in a perfect color of cranberry that fits like a dream.

11. Some people just shouldn't eat unless in a bathtub or completely naked or both. Which kind of rules out eating in public, I think.

A couple more pictures for you. Since I've been moaning about our dreadful winter, I feel the need to demonstrate why it is we love Seattle still, even after the whole tree throwing thing. These were taken today off the back deck:

See what I mean? And if you look closely at the next one, you'll see my shadow in the corner. I don't know why I kind of like that...but I do.