I feel it in my fingers, I feel it in my toes...

A moment of silence, if you will, for my Wildcats and their brilliant season.


On to the knitting content. Hand-knitted socks, as previously extolled on this blog, have many merits; nevertheless, they are not eternal and will eventually wear out:


Alas! One brother from the first pair of socks I ever knit has suffered from grievous damage. From this charming image one may also note how the wool has felted into an almost slipper-like consistency and how there is some slight discolouration from less-than-spotless floors. [I feel like my roommate when she comments on forensic anthropology...] All good things must come to an end, and so I mourn the pleasant, full life that these socks have enjoyed before they go to the Great Yarn Store in the Sky. Naturally, I will keep wearing them until they positively fall off my feet.


Now, for some new socks (I feel like doing some sort of "Circle of Life" rendition now): the Nutkins are chugging along, helped with doses of waiting rooms, Humanities lectures, and basketball games.
As the picture makes clear, I'm knitting them both at once. Contrary to any appearances, the socks are not connected; they are knit completely separately, just on the same needles. It's a lovely process, thought it can be somewhat like wrestling the Hydra at times.

For my little sister, my ballet feet:


Ravelers can see a plethora of photos should they desire!