When I woke up yesterday, I wanted something plot-less to listen to while working up the heel flap on the second January Mystery Sock. I found NPR’s bluegrass program; here’s Tony Furtado. And Julia Douglass, who is deliciously snarky; who among us has not had a boyfriend like the one she sings about? [Well, probably not Francis or Jerry.]
Or what about 17 Hippies (but there are really only thirteen of them)? @Tan or anybody else with a classical music background: is that last piece they play a mazurka? It sure made me want to get up off the couch and spin around!
I mostly liked Sonny Landreth; his vocals will take a little getting used to. I did get up and boogie around the living room during the final song of the set, only partially in celebration of having successfully completed the second heel flap. [His newest CD has Eric Clapton, Mark Knopfler, and Jimmy Buffett, just to name a few. I think it will follow me home tomorrow.]
@Firstborn: I will be happy to make you purple socks. I will not, however, be making you *these* purple socks. [I might be happy to make you purple socks with another skein of this same yarn, depending upon how much fun this yarn turns out to be; will have to get back to you on that.]
Enfin, measurable progress on the January Mystery Socks. I turned the heels and picked up the gusset stitches and got all the sole stitches threaded onto my 000 needle and all the instep stitches threaded onto my 00 needle and even managed not to cross the needles. I did this while listening to [Grammy-winning album of the year, woohoo!] Raising Sand, and then to All the Road Running. Haven’t listened to either CD since I was packing for the move. Even stood up and boogied around the living room during a couple of the songs. This laminate flooring is so sweet and smooth underfoot!
So, it’s Thursday morning and the first day in a couple of weeks that I slept until the alarm went off. I am about to pop the January Mystery Socks into a lovely bag that Julia gave me for Christmas a couple of years ago. It has little tabs inside to keep my yarn untangled while knitting two socks on two circs, which I now officially am. Not sure if these have once more become commuter knitting, or if they will reside on the couch until after I finish the gusset decreases, but I am ready to be done with them so I can cast on the Noro entrelac socks.
Yes, I will almost certainly cast on the Noro socks this weekend anyway, but whether I do so with a clear knitterly conscience because three projects on the needles is a nice manageable number, or in sheepish defiance as a means of distracting myself on Singles Awareness Day, is still open to debate.
I put a few more rows on the Clapotis en Soie yesterday. I was working on it last night when Trainman sat down next to me. He thought it was lovely. [I agree.] He wants me to color-consult with him on a project he has in mind; there may be paint chips and rag-rolling in my future. Guess that means I had better finish painting my bedroom, so I will know what I’m talking about, right?
When I said goodnight, I told him I was headed to the store to find him an appropriately snotty birthday card. He and his twin sister were born on Valentines Day, umpteen years ago. I almost bought one that shows a chihuahua sitting on top of a chocolate cake, looking annoyed. The card said something like “Just when you think your life is going smoothly [open] some little mutt sits in your frosting.” Instead, I got one with two dinosaur statues on the cover; it says “Hey there ... remember us? [open] We used to sit behind you in home room. Happy birthday.”
I went slightly amiss at the join while working on Morningside on the ride into work; I will need to tink back two or three rounds and see what happened. I think it may need to go back onto four DP’s.
And I think I will toss Brother Ray Charles into the car, for my listening pleasure after I finish today’s section of the Book of Mormon. Not sure at this point if we will be going visiting teaching tonight; it’s her turn to call and make the appointments, and my turn to give the lesson.
Very good times, indeed.
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!