One of the many useful things that knitting blogs have accomplished for me is to completely eradicate any desire to use nonstandard sock patterns. Toe up, afterthought heels, novelty yarns — I have seen them, and I will stick with tradition. Carrie is displaying handsome traditional socks right now, in fact. However, NotSoSwift knitted charms into hers, and I find that an entirely charming idea.
Granted, it may just be spring fever. There is a lot of that going around. We have CAPS conferences this week. These are school conferences which are intended to ensure that the kids are taking courses which are in line with their future goals. Since #1 son intends to be an itinerant folklorist, will he need Honors Chemistry and AP Euro? I’m not sure, but I am also not a troublemaker, so I did not bring it up. He plans to go to college, so he’s doing the right thing. #2 son is primarily interested in the social opportunities in classes. He is strong in interpersonal skills. We hope he will not go into politics.
Nona has directions for a very pretty picot turning at the hem, which I intend to use for my second T-shirt. I am still working on the front of the first one, and it doesn’t look different enough today to warrant a new picture. However, a lot of the knitalong have pictures up, if you want to see how this project looks in different yarns.
And since it is tank season, the blogs are also full of discussions about bras. So I will share with you a conversation of sorts from work. Now, I am told that men hesitate to join a conversational grouping of women, for fear that they will turn out to be talking about something gynecological or lingerie-related, so you can, if you are a man, consider yourself warned.
“That’s why I’m not wearing a bra,” she confided in me. I had never seen her before in my life, I had not asked her about her bra or even darted meaningful glances at her bosom. We had not been sharing girlish confidences about our undies. I experienced a momentary panic as I tried to think whether I had spaced out and missed something.
“He told me not to wear a bra,” she continued, “but I said I would not go braless. So then my bras began to disappear.”
Perhaps unwisely, I asked, “Why didn’t he want you to wear a bra?” I was, you understand, grasping for some meaning to the exchange. I was trapped behind a counter, after all, and had to make some effort to keep up.
“Well, he doesn’t have anything to be smug about,” she said, shaking her head, “so he liked having the kind of wife men looked at. So when I got older, he missed that distinction.”
Deciding to go with her facial expression, and give up attempting to make sense of her words, I shook my head. “Men!” I said. I hoped, by this, to suggest that I totally understood her plight.
Later, the Empress and I tried to imagine our reactions if our husbands began stealing our brassieres in order to parade us around braless… We were not successful in imagining such a situation, let alone our reactions.
How is spring fever affecting you? Are you initiating discussions about your unmentionables with strangers? Signing up for surprising courses with that spirit of hopefulness that accompanies new endeavors? Planting stuff? Knitting tank tops or nonstandard socks? All fairly harmless pursuits… If you are skipping classes, falling in love with unsuitable people, or driving without your seat belt, stop it immediately.