Sad, sad sock

My poor flacid sock top. Picot it is not. Going to rip & rework. Another reason I love socks is that I'm willing to rip & rework over and over until they meet my vision. Not so with sweaters, I have a few bags of sweaters in sweatery hell that are f**ked 4 ways to Tuesday, that will remain stashed until I need their yarn for something else.





The girlie asked to learn to spin. Her favorite part? The look on my face when she asked to use to my Bosworth. Her spindle spinning lasted all of 2 minutes before she was eyeing my wheel.















This pic says end of the summer to me. Cheap ass Target tent in the back yard (yes, we slept in it). The kids are totally grubby (& I don't remember the last time they had a bath) and the ice cream man just buzzed on by. Who knew ice cream shaped like a foot would be so popular (rugs, I understand, especially shag) maybe it was the gumball embedded in the big toe?
The boy of course rocked a rocket.






Lynne Vogel is coming to town tomorrow & there will be beer & merriment. Then there 3 (!!!!) days of spinning - spinning for knitting is the topic with no time off of intarsia for good (or bad) behavior or cold beer.