In the spirit of the holiday weekend, I left work a bit early Friday and checked out, Fancy Tiger a new craft-i-nista store on Broadway. Their yarn selection was meager, but they did have packs of lovely vintage buttons...which found new life as this:
On other fronts - I have been joking with my husband that I will *never-ever-for-any reason* knit him a sweater. My brother, mother, son, daughter, friends, babies I know, babies I don't know, nephew, breast cancer survivors and Moi have all been beneficiaries of my needle-mania. But DH has not even gotten a dishcloth. So for our anniversary I knit him my very first sock ever. Just one. Red. Sock. Size 13.
See - when we got married, he lost just one, red, size 13 Chuck Taylor high top. They were his lucky shoes and there was angst. For our anniversary several years ago I gave him another red, size 13 Chuck Taylor high top. The story was that this year, he got a sock to go with it. Actually I had planned - two weeks ago - on knitting a complete pair, but damn fingering yarn, knit up slower than it takes to actually conceive and give birth to the sheep that it came from. So with three days left, I made a secret trip to LYS (aren't they all somewhat covert??) and bought thick chunky yarn and started new sock. Stayed up past midnight both nights to finish, despite his confusion in my sudden interest in "Extra, Extra" on late night TV. Presented the sock today and he was pleased. I think. After 13 years of marriage he knows me well enough not to hold his breath for the second one....
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