Sockin' it to 'em

So I made my spouse these socks. I make my spouse lots of socks, and he wears them constantly, even the ugly first attempts, because he is a good husband who adores me. (And, you know, because he wants the benefits of being on my good side, such as not having to sleep on the sidewalk when he does something spacey like lock himself out of the house wearing a T-shirt in near-zero weather. Not that I would put any conditions on the wearing of my handknits. Certainly not. No way. Ahem.)

However, these socks are different. Why? They're not exciting. They don't sound fun to make -- toe-up socks in self-striping Regia in greens and tans on size double-0 addis. Straight stockinette, short-row heel, ribbed cuff. I think it was the teensy stitches that sold him.

"These are the best socks EVER," he exclaimed, and proceed to wear them with... everything. Whether it matched or not. Maroon shirts. Black corduroys. Jeans. I drew the line at the electric-blue gym shorts. (OK, so he didn't actually try it, but he was eying them.)

Other people chose to express their admiration in slightly more... lefthanded... ways.

My grandmother: "Those are... perfect. But... WHY?!"
My friend Fae: "Those look... storebought. Um, no offense, that's a compliment, I mean..."
My mother: "No wonder you're going blind."

So, now, in the middle of all my other projects, I'm knitting another pair of socks on teeny tiny wire needles. And I think I want smaller ones. I'm sort of sick, aren't I.

P.S. Lack of posting is due to laziness about the digital camera, mostly. I really do want to have some new pictures up.

Saving Grace

So. I'm back. Where did I go, you may ask?

I had a RL altercation with a crazy, but said crazy is officially Not My Problem Anymore, so I can be forgiving, even charitable. C'est la vie.

In the meantime, Some spambot stole my blog address. So I'm using this one.

The main reason I came back was that I was starting to feel invisible. I haven't been sans Web presence since I started college at the tender age of 16 and made a couple of pen pals I have since met in real life. Lately, I've become almost hermit-like in my online interactions. I buy stuff. I read stuff. Etc. It's a little bit creepy, mostly because my real life has sort of been the same. My work schedule is a bit... inconsistent ... at the moment. (For about five minutes, I thought it was going to get better, but then it got worse.) I've been out of town a lot. People don't e-mail or call and ask where/how the hell I am, and then when they do, I expect them to telepathically realize I read their e-mails and appreciate their concern. Next I'll be going to work with no socks on and talking to my cats.

... Ohwait.

I really have been doing a lot of knitting while I've been gone -- mostly in coffee shops, where I get some pseudo-human interaction. Observe:

Stranger: "Ooh! Pretty. What kind of yarn is that?"
Me: "Recycled silk."
Stranger: "Wow, I've never seen anything like it, where would you get something like that?"
Me: "From a cooperative out of Nepal, its for women who..."
Stranger: "...because I've certainly never seen that at Hobby Lobby!"
Me: "Um..."
Stranger: "Look, Betty! This lady's crocheting!"
Me: "Knitting, actually, um..."
Stranger's friend: "How quaint."
Me: "Thank you."
Stranger (usually an unemployed/retired society lady with a rich husband): "Yes, I sure wish I had that much time on my hands, just to sit around and crochet all day..."
Me: "Well, actually, it's knitting, and I don't have a lot of time, I work nights, and it's morning right now, see."
Stranger: "That's nice, dear. Well, good luck with your crocheting! That's really pretty yarn."
Me: "Thank you."

Then I pull out my headphones to discourage the next one.

Oddly enough, normally, at this time (Thursday morning) I would be in said coffee shop with a friend who does crochet, makes mostly blankets, uses acrylic yarn from Hobby Lobby and has even less tolerance for dumbasses than I do. (See, I do socialize occasionally!) However, said friend also has other things to do besides sit around and crochet all day, namely graduate school, and she's up to her elbows in books today. I told her I wouldn't tease her if she failed her special ed test (she's going to be a teacher), but we both know I can't keep that promise, so please wish her luck.

I guess I just went through yet another weird funk where online interaction wasn't worth the effort, and being alone in actual reality vs. with companions in virtual reality was preferable. I don't think I'm out of that funk yet. Maybe it's just the idea that, if life is going to pass me by, at least I'd rather be doing something other than sitting in front of a computer while it does.

I sound like Eeyore, don't I.

But I've finished two sweaters and several pairs of socks. One sweater, Spring Fling, is going to have to have major surgery, unless I spontaneously grow considerably more busty in the middle of the night. I'll take the hook closures off the front and make it a kimono.

The recycled silk cardigan, I'm happy to report, fits perfectly. That's because it's a top-down raglan sans swatching.

I'm so lazy.

So, in lieu of sweater pictures (they're coming), allow me to present a grainy, sub-par picture of my brother's wedding reception. No, my new sis-in-law is not really possessed, although her eyes and my cat's seem to react to the camera in the exact same way:



Oh, and also since I've been gone, Helen turned 2:



Look! We have a pixie in the family.

Yes, I'm dying to knit something for her (who wouldn't?! Wouldn't it be precious?!) but her parents would never, ever put a handmade object of clothing anywhere near her, not even to take a picture to humor the maker, so it would be a misguided effort. I will have to settle for adoring her in her Old Navy gear and knitting things for Other People's Kids.

My toes are bright shiny teal green today. Thanks for asking.

Oh, and this via Ana:

Watch this space

... it will soon have a picture of a very unfortunate sweater in it.

(You missed me, didn't you?)