Blue Brick Wall socks

When I hopped on the Ferry to go to Friday Harbor, I had a lace shawl and three pairs of socks on the needles with me. So I did what any red-blooded knitter would do.

I cast on another pair of socks.

Because, you know, I had wound up a skein of STR just in case I finished all of my other projects. Ahem.

It was a skein that I had won at Cat’s book signing last fall. Blue Brick Wall.

Maybe it was because I’d been driving all day and was tired. Maybe my blood sugar was low. Or maybe it was just one of those perverse days. Whatever. It was Blue Brick Wall, so I knit a brick-ish sort of pattern. (It’s actually the back side of a basket weave.) And the cuff is moss stitch because, well, moss grows on brick walls, doesn’t it? The socks are posing against my rock wall. Moss grows there. The lovely, thick sock blockers are courtesy of Bobbie’s husband ToolMan.

The really interesting thing about these is that, other than a small splotch of brown over the gussets, there’s no pooling and no striping. I’m so used to STR striping at the gauge I knit it in that I’m not quite sure what to make of it. But I really, really, like the way that these came out.

It was all designed to be mindless knitting, and it filled the bill admirably. The other projects I had with me were not mindless. Except for the clown barf socks. But… well… you know.

I completed most of the Blue Brick Wall socks while on San Juan Island. It took me awhile to get them finished when I returned because I’ve been slammed. It seems like I’ve been running around like a chicken with my head cut off trying to get things done and not accomplishing anything. But, when I look back, I really have managed to get quite a few things taken care of. I’m hoping for a chance to take a deep breath soon.

Because I hate this no-time-to-blog stuff. Blogging, like knitting, is a lifeline for me. And it’s important to stop for a minute to let the madness pass by. A wake-up call in the form of a colleague’s stress-related illness came a couple of weeks ago. My colleague will be, fortunately, OK. But will I be if I keep galloping like this? Breath… slow it down to a jog…

auction

Saturday night my former MIL invited me to a charity auction benefiting one of the local parochial schools. There was a silent auction with lots of interesting stuff. It’s all being displayed on the tables in the back by the balloons. Then a plated dinner that was very tasty, followed by a live auction that was pretty crazy and fun.

In the silent auction, I won a $90 lube-and-oil for $25 (to go to #1 Son), and a really nice crystal martini set for $9 (to stay with me).

I didn’t bid on much in the live auction. The bidders were well oiled by the no-host bar and the wine bottles provided on the tables, and some of the bids were pretty outrageous. Like $5,500 for a reserved parking space by the church, or $2,500 for a quilt created by the 4th-graders. Oh, I know it was all for a good cause, but that sort of level is a little out of my reach! I’m hardly a high-roller.

But MIL and I went together on a spa package at the Bonneville Hotel in the Columbia River Gorge. That will be fun, I think.

We left before all of the bidding was finished. As we stood in the check-out line to find out if we won anything in the silent auction, a sewing machine came up on the block. It was a package with a retail value of $750 and the opening bid was $500. That was too high for me to go. But nobody bid. So the auctioneer (who was a real kick, by the way, and most of the entertainment) kept dropping it down. When it got down to $100… I stepped out of line and lifted up my number. There was one more bid after mine. And then I bid again. So I walked away with an electronic sewing machine, a $100 gift certificate to a fabric store and around $50 in notions for… drum roll please… $300.

All in all it was a really fun time. I hope MIL asks me to go again next year!

And thanks to those of you who sent good wishes to Phoebe. Other than having to flush her litter, everything else in my household is back to what passes for normal. You would never know that Phoebe was ever not feeling well. Of course, the blood test next month will tell the whole tale. But as far as I can tell, she’s her old self again.