Superbowl Sunday

...which isn't a special day at all if you don't have a TV. Frankly, I have never been into football and it makes me giggle that people get all into it when the rest of the year they really don't give a hoot about major sports. Tonight I will just sit and veg, I guess. And make socks.

So the cherry blossom socks are done, which is a relief. I thought they would never end! They are crappy, crappy, crappy--just not the quality I like to see from myself. Mum said she would like the socks-- she can have them. They will be a little big for her but I don't think it will matter.


For my next project, I have all this cheap self-striping yarn lying about, and being the yarn snob that I am I haven't wanted to touch the stuff because my palate has been conditioned to fine yarns (100% merino, silk, alpaca, etc). This stuff is cheapo $1.99 yarn from Reny's, horrid stuff really. It's wool, but from what animal? I don't want to even guess. Probably the mutant GMO relatives of Dolly that the FDA doesn't want to talk about. Anyway, the yarn is great if I all want to do is experiment. This current experiment is an afterthought heel.


Mum found a couple of ancient vintage sock-pattern books that once belonged to Nana (I think, but it doesn't have the typical notes in the margins that Nana was fond of writing, so I dunno), and while they are just a bit outdated (they're from 1953!) they still provide happy little descriptions of things like afterthought heels, replacement heels and such:


...gotta love the mysterious stains and all...


My favorite part about them is the propaganda... there's nothing like an old 1953 sock pattern book to reinforce the gender bias:


GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. I have a real problem with the term "the little woman." Mum was once referred to that by a used car salesman and she almost had to resort to fisticuffs.

And now, because I know you probably want a reprieve from my monochrome cats, I present to you this random picture of Weasley soft-cronsching one of his favorite toys...



He likes to find these fuzzy things and then put them in his food dish or drown them in his waterbowl. He also has a thing for toothbrushes. Once when I stayed over at Ellen's he dug through my backpack that I had brought and in the morning triumphantly emerged with a toothbrush. Ellen threw up her hands and exasperatedly exclaimed, "that cat has toothbrush-f***ing-- DAR!"