I actually have nothing on knitting needles right now. I have one half-done crochet project I may finish up before starting my socks.
First, here’s my Patient Husband showing off the pair of socks I finally finished for him last week. He says they fit well and are very warm.
He was snowblowing for an hour in them and although his fingers came back frozen, his toes were singing the praises of my socks.
Next, we have the Noro Wavy Gravy Hat (yes, of the hat debacle), in two sizes, and my own matching scarf pattern (two of the chevrons with a three-stitch garter stitch border on the edges) done as a keyhole scarf in order to hide the fact that I was running out of yarn.
The little one is the infant hat that should have been a full-size hat. The big one is the hat for which one of my size 8 dpns gave its life. I have no idea where the dpn went, but when they went into the bag, I had five, and when they came out, there were only four.
The only rational explanation is that Satan stole my knitting needle, so therefore I did the only rational thing a Christian could do and proceeded to knit onto a size 8 circular needle. Which ended up working about 5 times better than the same hat on dpns. I never liked circulars before, and now I do. Take that, foul fiend.
Here are Kiddo#2 and Kiddo#4 modeling the hats and scarf for us. Note how many teeth Kiddo#2 is missing. The tooth fairy has visited our home five times in the last two weeks. It’s insane.
I found out that in the town over from Angelborough there’s a shelter for homeless families (well, I guess previously-homeless, right, since once they live there they aren’t homeless any longer…?) I went over there and dropped off the hats and scarves, despite how nervous I was. The only thing that got me through was imagining someone’s guardian angel seeing the hat/scarf set and thinking, “Ooh! I’ve got to get my charge down here to get that!” Plus, I smelled tea the whole time I was driving and coming back (but not in the building.)
Fun moment: when I was first told about the shelter, I asked where it was, and the person replied, “Oh, it’s on XYZ Road!” Later I found that road, but I didn’t know where the shelter was on the road. When I called to find out if they would like the hats and scarf, I asked where they were. “Oh, we’re on XYZ Road!” I insisted on a quaint little detail like a house number, which they reluctantly gave.
I figured based on this that it would be dead obvious when I got there, with a big sign, huge parking lot, maybe a church next door, and maybe an angel standing over it holding a food basket. Nope. It’s in a residential neighborhood. It’s just a white victorian house. No sign. I passed it twice before I found it, and then once there, I had to walk around the building to find “the other front door.”
But hey, the stuff is there, and they want more. I hope I get some startitis soon.