Non, Ce N'est Pas Fini

(Pardon my French.)

I've been composing this blog entry in my head, something that involved a French exclamation and other suitable flourishes as I unveiled the completed first alpaca Spring Forward sock. I'm on the toe decrease, I swear. I just have to decrease every other row for another 4 rows, then decrease every row for a bit more, then bind off . . . then start another one.

I can do this. I just don't think I can do it yet tonight.

Well, That's Pretty Funny

I came across the blog of a Nice Lady through the knit list today - and she's got that very same "puce and spoiled pea soup" sock yarn I accidentally bought recently! I like her pattern, but I'm still planning to dye that yarn as soon as I figure out a reasonable way to put it into hanks that doesn't involve either buying more equipment or spending hours of quality time with a chair back. (This is skinny little sock yarn, after all!)

Meanwhile, I love, LOVE the previously mentioned alpaca/wool blend yarn. It makes me feel like an artist, and the colors are every bit as beautiful when knat up as they appeared on the skein. I keep hearing Aretha singing in the back of my head: This is the sock that Jami built, y'all! And check out the yardage - having turned the heel on the first sock, that first center-pull ball remains almost completely undiminished! Which means that even after these socks are completed and gifted away, I should have plenty to make an all-for-me pair of socks as well. And maybe even a pair of child's socks after that - or pedicure socks, since I happen to know a cousin or two who like pedicures. The possibilities are spreading out before me. I think I'm in love. (Or more likely in the first flush of addiction. I'm tempted to pop back by the yarn store for a quick glance at the other colors, now that I now I'd only need one skein for a project. There was this bright yellow and blue that recalled the textiles of Provence . . . .)

In other news - well, there isn't any in particular. After 3 weeks of violin lessons, I can manage a rather sour-sounding version of "Mary Had A Little Lamb" while only bowing across the D string. According to yesterday's job search, the only paralegal position posted in my county has been pulled, although I could still apply for a spot with the DNR slogging through the local swamps to trap and tag wild ducks. Instead, I've added myself to the substitute teacher list of a second local local high school, and tomorrow I'm taking the entry exam to apply for a temporary job with the census. I'm also scheduled to do another batch of glamour shots with Pam down at the salon this weekend, and I still hold out hope for that Milwaukee job (although I don't expect to hear from them for at least another few weeks).

Finally, remember those pictures I took of the steam train in December? A friend encouraged me to submit a few to the Plymouth Historical Society, which was hosting a photo contest documenting the event. I got a call over the weekend informing me that I was in the final running, and asking me to send a fresh digital image of their favorite. The winners receive a cash prize and are published in the Sheboygan Press (both of which would be nice), so I've got my fingers crossed.
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