Look Away! Look Away!

Yet another shitty photograph, courtesy of my eBay HP Photosmart. I'd buy a new digital camera, one with a really nice macro lens like my dead Nikon, but I kinda have to pay rent every month, so no new electronic doodads until I'm back working full time.

I finished knitting the accursed 1886 Stocking in a little over a week. Plenty long enough but it's huge in the ankle and instep--I really could have decreased ten more stitches and it would have fit perfectly. Or gone down a needle size. If I'd had a roll of black elastic thread (I have a roll of white) I could have knitted it into the top bit before the stripes started because it's a tad baggy 'round the thigh. Shouldn't matter since I'm going to use a garter belt to hold them up, but it would have been nice to have something handknit that doesn't puddle around my ankles after walking three steps.

Now I merely have to knit up an identical one without the improvements so it will match. Great. I have to make a second ill-fitting stocking or completely re-knit the first one. Poo.

I may just go ahead and re-try knitting a gaudy stripy pair in that rayon stuff since I've got so much of it, despite my previous failures with that particular yarn. I should rummage around on the internets for photos of antique Victorian stockings for color ideas. The Victoria & Albert Museum has a bunch in an industrial knitting exhibit, but I think I remember the photos being low-res. I could also be remembering the wrong museum. Maybe it was something about Victorian knitting mills in northern England?

Wrong museum, I think, because now I can't find it. I'm tired and don't care, actually. Pfffft. My brain hurts and I'm glad to be back in my own apartment, far, far away from pecan pies, chocolate chip cookies, turkey stuffing and buttermilk biscuits.

rambling on and on like an old woman

Here's a handknit stocking I found and it has a handy button at the top that attaches it to one's underthings. I've never seen that before, but there's the possibility they were made for a young child, so of course I've never seen such a thing.

On the Grady-Pig front, he didn't do too much damage at my parents' house, though he did seem to bug the living snot out of my brother. He also spent about three hours this morning riding in the kitty-carrier crapping out everything he'd eaten in the past week. (Grady, not my brother.) I guess this is his extra-special version of carsick.