Tada! I completed my first official pair of Socktober socks last night: Blueberry Waffle Socks in Lion Brand Wool- Ease Sportweight Blue Mist, on Size 4 dpns. Hairy Legs (not to be confused with the author of this post) obliged me again by modeling these socks intended for my dad. Getting into the spirit, he even suggested a photo shoot location, which wound up being in the bathroom next to the toilet, mostly because it's the only place in our house that's illuminated by more than a 60-watt lamp after 9 pm. (Because that's the one place in the house you really want illuminated!) We tried both with and without flash to get an accurate color and stitch representation. Funny thing is that upon review, I only notice the hair. And how much more starkly noticeable it appears with flash. And for the last time, those are NOT my legs!! This was a super quick and fun knit and was just what I needed after the seemingly interminable hoodie.
It's ironic that I would knit a pair of socks called "Blueberry Waffle." For the record, I cannot STAND blueberry waffles, but when I saw the title in a list of sock patterns, I was drawn to it like a magnet. It all goes back to my childhood (doesn't everything??), when my mom used to force me into eating those toaster-variety Eggo Blueberry Waffles for breakfast. Which in and of itself may not have been that terrible a thing, but my mom had a sadistic way of making us roll out of bed and right into the kitchen for breakfast. I have since realized that I am not not-a-breakfast-eater (had to double-check the double negative to make sure that's what I meant to say); I simply prefer some downtime between opening my eyes and having food shoveled down my throat.
Those were some awful mornings in the early '70's...sitting across Fredo with a plate of Eggos. Both because of the Eggos and because of Fredo. She had this way of staring at me with her huge puppy-dog eyes that really irked me. Bad enough I had to stomach those damn waffles, but to have her looking at me was almost more than I could bear. "Stop looking at me!" I'd hiss, shooting her my most evil eye. Quickly, she'd avert her gaze, but those pathetic puppy eyes would stir feelings of guilt, making me more irate. Angrily, I'd stick a forkful of waffle into my mouth, only to have my reflexes betray me with a gag (yes, Bossy Boots' talent for deliberate gagging is inherited). Of course, this would cause Fredo to look at me again. With total horror in her eyes, she'd fixate on me as I commenced with my daily gagging/almost-upchucking side-show routine, all the while vehemently whispering, "Stop looking at me!" Exasperated as hell, my blueberry-waffle-loving-mom stopped intervening after a few days of this routine and pretended that she couldn't see or hear anything. Luckily, that is another talent that has been inherited.
In a twist of ultimate sadism, I, of course, force my kids to eat blueberry waffles for breakfast. Total anachronisms, however, they seem to love it. Having inherited mom's see-no-evil, hear-no-evil talent, though, I can't be entirely sure.