The rumors ran through the city like a snag on a cheap pair of stockings. (Stole that from an old Darkwing Duck cartoon.)

First there were only whispers. Then sightings from friends of friends. Then the first-hand reports began to trickle in.

Then I called Alice.

Blue Moon is in at Tangle.

So where do you think I was on Saturday? At Tangle, maybe? And remember that the rule is that sock yarn in no way counts as contributing to one’s stash. So just maybe some of that yarn mysteriously fell into my knitting bag and ended up at home with me.

Left-to-right, that’s Sock Candy in Carbon, Socks That Rock in Stonewash, Mudslide, Jewel Of The Nile, Kryptonite and County Clare, and Sock Candy in Key West.

What’s a girl to do?

I thought I showed admirable restraint. I didn’t buy any of the ribbon, or the kidmo, or the bamboo (that’s right, gentle readers, bamboo). Just the sock yarn. And it doesn’t count.

I don’t have immediate plans for most of this. But I think the Key West will be next on my needles, after the two pair of socks already going. I’m also considering a fair isle pair using Stonewash and Mudslide. While I was there, D picked up some of the Jewel Of The Nile and wound it. My camera doesn’t do it justice. It is truly jewel-like and almost glows. I can’t wait to see it knit up.

That’s the cool think about hand-painted yarns. They don’t look anything in the ball like they did in the skein. And they don’t look anything knit up like they did in the ball. It’s fun to see the colors emerge.

I did get some knitting done, also. I’ve been hard at work on the red and black Fixation socks. I have turned the heels (black) and I’m heading up the ankles. I hope to have these done very soon. Then I need to finish the Rainbow socks that I’m doing in the stranded pattern. Then it’s on to the Key West.

As long as so many wonderful sock yarns are made, why knit anything else?

In what is sure to be hailed by teenagers everywhere as a landmark decision, the Washington State Supreme Court has ruled that even kids have privacy rights and can expect that their private conversations will not be snooped on.

Four years ago, Carmen Dixon was having a tough time with her daughter Lacey, then 14. Quoth Dixon:

I just believe you have the right to know what your kids are doing and who they’re doing it with. We were having a hard time with her as a teenager. She was sort of out of control. [Monitoring her phone calls was] the way I could keep track of what she was up to.

Four years ago, two boys knocked down an elderly Friday Harbor woman, breaking her glasses, and snatching her purse. Lacey’s boyfriend at the time, Oliver Christensen, was a suspect in the case. Sheriff Bill Cumming asked Carmen Dixon to be alert for any evidence. When Lacey chose to take a call from Christensen behind her closed door, Dixon became suspicious and used a speaker phone in another room to eavesdrop. And she took notes while Christensen admitted knowing where the stolen purse was. It was Dixon’s testimony in court that convicted Christensen to 9 months in jail.

Christensen’s lawyer argued that it is against the law to snoop on any conversation, and even children have a right to privacy. Citing provisions in Federal wiretapping lawas, attorneys for the state maintained that children have a reduced right to privacy because parents have an absolute right to monitor all calls that come into their home. The court sided with Christensen.

In the court’s opinion, Justice Tom Chambers wrote:

The Washington act, with its all-party consent requirement, contains no such parental exception and no Washington court has ever implied such an exception. We decline to do so now.

It’s a good thing I live in Oregon. I told # 1 son long ago, and frequently since, that nobody living in my house should have any expectation of privacy. For a long time I screened both his phone calls and his internet chat. He hated that I did so because “none of the other parents do that.” For the most part the conversations were the typical teenage stuff, but every now and then I learned some things that became useful or that I needed to deal with.

At 16 he doesn’t need the same kind of monitoring. But if I had to do it over again, I’d do exactly the same thing.

No matter how involved a parent is with their child(ren), there comes a time when teenagers don’t want to talk to their parents — or at least don’t want to talk about “important” things. That’s OK, because kids have to grow up. Part of growing up is growing away, and that means that some things are kept private. But parents also have a need, and a right, to know what’s going on with their kids.

It’s hard to balance a child’s right to privacy with a parent’s need to know, just like it’s hard to balance a child’s desire for absolute freedom with their need for guidance.

But in my house, if I need to know there is no privacy, and freedom is gained by proving that it can be handled appropriately.

This month’s award goes to three would-be thieves in Australia unable to open the door of the restaurant they wanted to rob.

The restaurant, about 85 miles south of Syndey in the coastal town of Gerringong, boasts a sliding glass door. The robbers were wearing balaclavas — those ski masks that cover most of one’s face. Whether the balaclavas blocked their vision or whether they were simply too stupid to read, the thieves apparently didn’t see the sign that said slide. They tried to push the door open. When that failed they tried to kick the industrial-strength glass door down. Still unsuccessful, they ran off, leaving their bootprints on the door.

About 20 diners remained calm and enjoyed their dessert and coffee while watching the show. The diners were treated to free bottles of wine after the event.

The police believe they have located the stolen car used by the robbers during the non-heist. Quoth police investigator Jamie Williams:

They’re probably more dangerous because they’re dumb.

I dunno. It sort of reminds me of all of those times I’ve pushed when the sign said pull or vice-versa. But I don’t usually try to kick the door down when my first attempt fails.

National Treasure starts out with a vast implausibility: A sailing ship frozen in arctic ice for 200 years, with no explanation of how it could survive intact the griding and crushing of moving ice that have left better vessels crushed into oblivion.

Nicholas Cage plays Ben Gates, the latest scion of a family cursed since the Revolution with the knowledge that somewhere in the US the founding fathers have hidden a treasure amassed (or stolen) by the Knights Templar. The Gates men have been searching for the treasure ever since, and Ben has discovered that a clue is in the boat.

What follows is a delightful romp through improbability after improbability. Ben is forced to steal the Declaration of Independence in order to keep it from being stolen by his former partner turned badguy Ian Howe, played by Sean Bean. Helping Ben is Justin Bartha as computer wiz and comic-relief sidekick Riley and Diane Kruger as National Archive Conservator Abagail Chase. After the theaft of the Declaration, Harvey Keitel joins the action in a too-small role as FBI Special Agent Sadusky, and Jon Voight comes on board as Ben’s father, who believes that the treasure is a fake.

Ian and Sadusky both chase Ben & company through various car chases, Independence Hall, Trinity Church and catecombs beneath Wall Street, while Ben chases clues that come from objects ranging from a Meershaum pipe and special glasses constructed by Ben Franklin to a $100 bill. The characters are, of course able to determine the true meaning of extremely obtuse clues without even breaking into a sweat.

Improbable, yes, but prepare to suspend your disbelief. Although instantly forgettable, National Treasure makes a pleasant holiday-season (almost) diversion.

Mom’s take: