michael and fredo

I am beginning to feel a bit like a sad repository for abandoned socks. I currently have 3 socks missing their better halves, left eternally yearning for their completion. I am absolutely miffed by this. By nature, I would describe myself as fiercely loyal and protective. Which is a good thing, I think. Others may use different descriptive terms, mafioso among them, perhaps. Not necessarily a bad thing, especially if you grew up theoretically enthralled with, say, Michael Corleone, just as an example. Not necessarily a villain; more of a misguided family-oriented soul with anger management issues. It's really all about perspective.

I grew up the eldest of 4 siblings, with Godfather overtones inherent to my familial position. Protecting my sisters and brother was incumbent upon me and loyalty was paramount. Parading around the neighborhood on my banana seat floral bike, exacting punishment on those who dared to cause my siblings angst, I was the picture of vengeance. No one dared to cross me, especially not anyone in the family. Or so I thought.

It was third grade, and my mom told me that I could invite a friend over for the afternoon. Delighted, I called Marisa and dreamed of an afternoon filled with wonderfully engaging activities- all of my choosing, of course. But apparently, no one had given Marisa the script. She arrived, and to my dismay, she oohed and aahed over my sister's (henceforth, Fredo) Strawberry Shortcake collection. Unable to resist the adulation, Fredo proceeded to show-off every Strawberry Shortcake accessory known to mankind. The Berry Gazebo, the matching pets, the Strawberry Shortcake Live from New York LP. She was shameless and Marisa was enamored. I fumed, hands on my hips and nostrils flaring. They were not deterred. I threatened to permanently can Blueberry Muffin and Orange Blossom. They laughed. Left without any options, I sent them fishing on the lake. When asked later why I tackled both of them to the floor and sat on Marisa's head, I muttered something about how Fredo should have known better than to play with MY friend. You break my heart Fredo, you break my heart.

So this sock polygamy of sorts is quite foreign to me, as I am usually monogamous and loyal to any project I start. My disloyalty to Padded Footlet and Brother Bossy Boots' Gymnastics Sock unsettles me. Without casting on for their mates, I started knitting Mom's secret Christmas socks. Yes, I am hopeful that there will indeed be a second sock to warrant that plural. This is Go With the Flow from IK Summer '05, in Knit Picks Dancing. I cast-on on Thursday night, and I'm surprised at how fast this is knitting up. There's just enough instep and leg pattern to keep you interested without really requiring excessive concentration. I'm not a purple-y/pink fan myself, but I keep reminding myself that they're not for me. Here's an attempt at a close-up of the ladder and open-work pattern, illuminated by my trusty 60-watt night-stand lamp. And lest you deem me a petty thug after reading the above anecdote, I decided to include endearing kiddie shots from Moanalua Gardens this afternoon. Brother Bossy Boots and Sister Stinky enjoying a picnic, bubbles and shady reprieve from the heat. Unfortunately, however, maternal instinct is far more compelling than eldest-sibling-instinct. Cross your fingers that Fredo doesn't need to be sent on any other spur-of the-moment fishing trips.