this was how my *ahem* wonderful camping get away went. Got lost. Got car stuck in sand. Got towed out of sand (tow truck got stuck and required rescue) LOST WALLET. Came home early.
and then of course I managed to find that wonderful black hole of knitting doom in my grandmother's sock and knit for what seemed like forever on her damn sock and got abso-friggin-lut-ly NOWHERE on it. Until, of course, this morning while I was stumbling, bleary eyed through Wally-world (walmart to those of you who don't visit it daily) following the pervert as he traipsed down the aisles exclaiming in joy (he loves walmart--- it has to be a mutant gene or something.) Anyhow, there I was, half asleep ball of sock yarn thrust into the pocket of my hoodie valiantly knitting, muttering curse words under my breath to which my husband asks, "Is one of the side effects of your medication Tourette's?" when I discover that FINALLY I have gotten the magic 6 inches from the back of my heel to where I am and can begin decreasing for the toe! Angels didn't break out in a chorus or anything, but I broke out in a boogie, which only made my husband cluck his tongue reprovingly and mutter Tourette's again. Anyhow, the sock, she is finished!!

And I, like any true knitter, cast on... for a felted box from Mason Dixon Knitting within 45 of grafting my toe! Because casting on for the sister sock would only make way to much sense!!! And I really really want the felted box. Bad. I bought the book on Friday and fell in love with about 4 of the projects, which, frankly means that it's a keeper.

Take care,

Angela

oh to my SP 8

I got your email and will respond asap in the morning. I'm falling asleep at the keyboard over here.