I’ve been knitting away on the Tipsy Knitter socks. I’m up to the gusset increases — actually, I’m almost done with them since I’m further along than this picture shows.

Now I face that eternal question… Eye Of Partridge or heel stitch or something else on the flap. hmmmm… Maybe cabled flaps? That might be fun. I’ll have to ponder.

I do like the way the colors are pooling and how it works with the pattern. Usually I’m not happy with pools, but I think it looks cool. We’ll see if I still think that when I’m done!

I knit away some on the green sweater this weekend. I’m about 15 rows shy of the arm pits. I worked on it for a little while on Saturday while watching the Kentucky Derby. Since I had a mint julep in hand (I make mine from scratch) , not a lot of productive knitting was accomplished.

The rest of the weekend was taken up with busy but rather mundane tasks. Stuff to do. Bills to pay. Weeds to pull. The usual.

#1 Son is still off gallivanting around Alaska. He called me today from Fairbanks, where, he reports, it never really gets dark. He thinks it’s kinda cool.

They are heading back to Canada and expect to be in Whitehorse tomorrow. It will probably be a replay of their outbound trip, except backwards of course. He should be back in about a week.

I really miss him!

Well, not really stewing. It’s too warm for stew. Scattered might be a better term. Too many things going on all at once.

My Sockapaloooza recipient, Lynne, received her socks yesterday. And they fit! Yea!

Well… OK, I know that means I will never get them back. But that’s OK. I know they’ve gone to a good home where they will be loved and worn.

Sock Pal tells me that my socks will be on their way to me as soon as they dry from their bath. And Sock Pal give no hints on who she is or which socks. NO. Hints. That means I would have to go through all of the entire huge list of participants to see which ones haven’t been mailed yet… Nah… I think I’ll be good and wait.

This is so fun! I can’t wait until the socks get here. I know I’m going to love them. (Don’t worry, Sock Pal. I’m really very easily pleased and usually sometimes patient.)

Julie asks

I love the Tipsy Knitter socks – where does that pattern come from?

The stitch pattern is called Tipsy Knitter in the Socks Socks Socks book and Tilting Ladders in Barbara Walker’s Second Treasury of Knitting Patterns. I’m not really following the pattern in Socks Socks Socks, although I admit to being inspired by it. I’m using the stitch pattern with my standard no-pattern toe-up sock. It’s a stitch pattern that can pretty much be knit either top down or toe up and look the same.

#1 Son called last night from Anchorage. They will be in Anchorage today and tonight, and then travel to Soldotna tomorrow.

The title word means stew or hodgepodge, which is what today’s post will probably be!

Some knitting done yesterday: Another repeat added to the Tipsy Knitter socks. Two rows knit on the green sweater before I fell asleep.

sereknitty72 asks:

Love the yarn you’re using for your Tipsy Knitter socks! It is beautiful! Pray tell, what kind?

Thanks! That would be Socks That Rock in the colorway called Red Rock Canyon.

I love STR, too. It’s my favorite sock yarn. I have three skeins still in my stash: Beryl, Carbon and Lapis. It makes it hard to use any of the other sock yarn in the stash. My hand just seems to naturally grab out one of those lovely STR colorways every time I start a new pair.

But the other yarn in my stash is also lovely and deserves to be knit.

Must. Be. Strong.

sereknitty72 adds:

Aren’t you loving this weather? I think I must hit the coast again….

The weather is wonderful! Today I saw mama and papa goose with their little goslings out for a stroll by the pond. I need to get down to the coast, too.

Maybe when #1 Son gets back. Or maybe when he leaves again?

And speaking of which… For those of you who are keeping track, last night #1 Son called me from Tok, Alaska — a happening little place of 1400 or so residents. #1 Son said that it was really cold but the roads were clear and they were going to camp out because it didn’t look like there were any places open where they could stay. They should be in Anchorage tonight, if all goes as planned.

They play Anchorage on Thursday, Soldotna on Friday and Fairbanks on Saturday. (I’m not sure they realize how far it is from Soldotna to Fairbanks.)

But the really amazing (to me) thing about the call last night was that he made it from his cell phone.

That’s right. At a crossroads in the middle of nowhere (sorry, Tok, but you know what I mean) with a population of 1400. My son gets cell phone service. And here’s the real kicker: He wasn’t roaming!

The world is becoming a very, very small place.

I’m a fairly normal person. Or at least I would like to think I am a fairly normal person. My nearest and dearest may disagree with that. But I can (usually) get myself ready to face the world with some semblance of normalcy. I can usually dress appropriately. I almost always have my teeth brushed and my hair beat into submission before I go out in public. I usually have on a matching pair of shoes. Usually.

So what’s my excuse here?

You need to know two piece of information as background:

1) I was a little late leaving to meet M for lunch. M and I, as you know, have been meeting for lunch since the late 70’s. A long time. M’s lunch time is a little restricted. I don’t like to be late because it cuts into our chat time.

2) When I get home at night, I often kick my shoes off in the closet by the front door because I never wear shoes when I don’t have to.

I was running a little late because I’ve been running a little late ever since the demise of the clock that runs my life my treasured mantel clock, and the phone rang. It was a short call, a call to let me know that my new (old) clock was ready to pick up. I was now a little further behind. I hurried from the kitchen carrying my purse, a knitting bag, the box to mail to my Sockapaloooza pal, and a jacket I had picked up but not put on. My arms were full. I could barely open the front closet door. I fished blindly around with my feet until I found a pair of shoes. Out the door I went.

M and I met and settled ourselves in to our accustomed table in our accustomed restaurant. Judy…, said M. Are you wearing a matching pair of shoes?

With growing horror I looked at my feet. Oops. It appeared I was not. (Notice how gentle M was. She could have easily said, you idiot, haven’t you learned how to dress yourself yet? My nearest and dearest are very patient with me.)

I was on a little bit of a tight schedule. In my mind I ran through all of the places I was going to have to visit before I could go home and put on a matching pair of shoes that actually looked the same. But I took comfort in the fact that I was not likely to meet anyone I knew in any of those places. For example, in all the years that M and I have been meeting for lunch, I’ve never seen anyone out there that I know.

Until now.

I left the restaurant, and there across the parking lot was someone I know from work. Someone in a higher position than mine. Someone who needs to see me as a competent, take-charge sort of person. We waved at each other across the parking lot while I attempted to keep at least one car between us. No go. We had parked next to each other.

I don’t think my feet were noticed. I hope not. And I hope the people at the post office didn’t notice. Or the bank. Or the clock repair shop.

I will hopefully be on time now. Or at least I have a better chance of being on time. The new (old) clock is now gracing my mantel, chiming out the hours. It’s a Gilbert. Made some time between 1890 and about 1920 (I don’t know enough about clocks to get closer than that). Lovingly restored in 1980 and sitting since forlornly on a shelf waiting for a new home. I loved it at first sight, even before I learned anything about it. I think it was waiting for me.

Note to self: Look at feet before leaving the house.

The Sockapaloooza socks will shortly be winging their way to their intended recipient. I gave them one last stroke and pat before packing them away with a few other little goodies. I need to mail them today because my chances of actually getting to a post office on Tuesday are non-existent. I hope my sockpal enjoys them. I hope they fit!

This is the African violet that sits on my desk at work. It blooms almost constantly since I moved to this location. It really loves the morning sun through the window.

I’m getting better at capturing the color with my camera. I did photoshop this a wee bit — but only to shift the color back towards red a tiny amount. The camera shifts towards blue. The little specks that almost look like digital camera noise are, in real life, the most amazing multicolored metallic sparkles. I defy any camera to capture them.

The socks are almost the deepest purple color around the edges of the violet petals.

Today I get my clock! Yea! I will finally know what time it is again. Yea!

#1 Son called last night. He and his cohorts have crossed the border into Canada. If all goes well they should arrive in Anchorage by next Thursday. He has promised to keep in touch. Think good thoughts.

Is this not the perfect jam for a fiber junky? Eweberry Farms raises sheep and berries. Yarn and jam. Yum! And it’s right here in Oregon.

Am I the only one who has always wanted to send a jar of marionberry jam to the former mayor of Washington DC?

I love my state.

In knitting news, I read the Embossed leaves pattern wrong and ended up frogging out the toes. Oh well. I almost have them knit again. I’ll try for pics tomorrow. I decided to try to knit the leaves the way the pattern shows because the ridges on the toes finish the ends of the last leaves. I’m not sure if this lace will knit backwards or not. Some will, and some won’t. If not, then I’ll probably frog the toes (again) and re-knit without the ridges.

#1 Son breezed home in the wee hours of the morning. The path of the tour just happened to come through Portland. I think he leaves again tomorrow. It’s great to have him here, even if only for a little bit.