Redemption, mostly.

Baudepaloozalaires, A.K.A. A pair of socks that is neither as long-legged nor as punctual as I'd planned, but still very pretty if I do say so myself, A.K.A. the 36-hour sock:



Faced with two very mismatched socks ('very' being a relative term)I had three choices:
A. Knit a second sock in the lighter dyelot, on US 2s, knowing my pal specifically requested a fine gauge.
B. Rip out the lighter, looser sock, and knit two new socks on US 1s. Starting on Tuesday night.
C. Rip the darker, finer, better fitting sock (of which dyelot I had but one skein) back to where it weighed just under half of the total, reknit the ribbing, and knit a second short, dark, fine sock.

Once option C occurred to me, there really seemed no other choice. To whoever first thought to knit a sock toe-up? THANK YOU.

I think the thing I'm the happiest about, actually, is that despite the roadblocks and the frustration, and the almost crying late at night, I genuinely enjoyed knitting these -- all three of them. I think that means I like to knit or something.

And should I ever feel like knitting this pattern again (it could be awhile), I'm already halfway to a pair of my own.

Flakery.

We had a visit last week from an old friend who had never seen the Pacific Northwest, so of course we showed him the sights, which is an excellent excuse to see them again, ourselves.

We witnessed the beauty of our lovely state:

Photo credit on this one goes to The Lady.

We witnessed the pooches trying to save their favorite person from what they believed was certain death:


We witnessed a grown man being pushed around a Seattle city block in a pink Powerwheels Jeep, by another man (also full grown) singing Prince's "Kiss". He's learning the lyrics in this shot:

Which I hope you will take as sufficient evidence that no one involved was remotely sober, including the photographer. Said photographer, however, managed to fall into bed afterwards and knit a full repeat on the Baudelaires, which should itself be taken as sufficient evidence that this pattern is way easier than it looks. Possibly the highest beauty-to-difficulty ratio yet, narrowly beating out the Child's First Socks.

Back in Portland, however, I have evidence only of the fact that I am a terrific flake:

Endpaper, missing only a thumb, Baudelaire, waiting patiently to be bound off, aaaand... Rusted Root, cast on yesterday. I wonder if the ladies of the liberation front will allow me into their ranks with only 99% of a sock?

Purple socks: past, present, and future

Past:

I tried, I really did. I cast on for Eunny's Bayerische socks, and I plugged away with real diligence and optimism. I wish I'd taken a picture, but I was just too discouraged. They weren't too hard, exactly, they just moved so damn slow. The result was beautiful but if I'm not enjoying it, what's the point?

Present:

The second I ripped out the German Slog I cast on for these in the same yarn (the Lorna's Laces Blackberry that I jettisoned from the Endpaper project awhile back). I remembered immediately why it's so important to enjoy the process as well as the product: this first one is flying off the needles.

Seriously, in the time it's taken to knit this much, I had gotten maybe three inches of the Bayerische.


This pair is for my sockapalooza pal, who quite fortuitously has the same foot length and circumference as I do, though a lower instep.

Future:

I won something. Me! And in no time flat, this arrived in the mail from the lovely Julie Frick.

It's Artyarns Supermerino 4. I've never knit with this stuff before and I'm so glad it's landed in my lap. JF, you can keep destashing in my direction all you like. I'll even pay you next time!


It's super soft, and less shiny than most sock yarns I've seen. I think it will become a pair of Jaywalkers for my female companion. I don't think either of us can ever have too much purple.