Sock Madness: Part I

For the past several weeks, since autumn has graced us with its lovely, chilly presence, I've had an insatiable urge to make my own socks.

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Why? Who knows. But I seriously think about it whenever I'm not decidedly doing anything else. Since this became somewhat of a problem (I'm in school, for one, and it probably would make friends and boyfriend kinda jealous if they knew just how much of my thought content was dedicated to this) I spent several hours of designated study breaks at the local bookstore (franchise) pouring over books of sock patterns.

Confession: I have been knitting for 14 years...and I still don't know how to read a pattern. Sorry, Mom.

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So as I looked at book after book of sock pattern, waiting for one of them to be in plain enough English to explain itself to me, one phrase kept coming to mind:
"What does that even mean?!"
Patterns are clearly just not in my cards.

About three Christmases ago, my grandmother taught me how to crochet, saying it was easier. I'm not sure I agree with her, but I definitely feel like it promotes creativity more readily than knitting. This being the case, I set out, last night, in the midst of Justin's brother's birthday celebration to simply make them.

Next up on this topic, pictures of progress and details of how it's going...or possible surrender.

Ratchet

I am not a cat person; I like dogs.

At least I didn't used to be a cat person, but I am now (though I still like dogs).

A few months ago, though, Justin's sister brought a little tortoiseshell kitty home from the pet store where she works. She lived at their house for a month or so (I think?) and fell victim to repeated attacks of their long-time Siamese resident Misha. Kitty was brought to my house to escape the repeated beatings and has been thriving ever since. We have called her Ratchet, like Nurse Ratched or like Ratchet & Clank, if you want it to be justified in some way. 

Unfortunately, every time I try to take a picture of her it suddenly becomes Kitty Run 'N Go Time, and I have no such luck. I managed, with a maxed-out ISO, to snap this one earlier. Though it doesn't show her off much, it isn't a black and brown blur. She moved her eyes only a little; I'm so proud.

Ratchet is like many other kittens in that she switches wildly from play mode to sleep mode. She also enjoys snuggling and burrowing into shoulders and other bodily nooks, playing with a bouncy ball that looks like an eye, hair elastics, bits of paper and ensuring that I lack epidermis. 

Felties!

At the beginning of the month (this is how behind I am on pretty much everything), Justin and I celebrated our half anniversary. Our "anniv--," if you will. Rather than plan a typical celebration-type outing, we had fulfilled school obligations, came home, stayed in and did crafty things.

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Earlier in the week I acquired a book about making tiny zombie creature things from felt. It rules, more or less, but is a bit more involved than I had originally thought. I don't know what magical land the authors live in, but the lucky ladies evidently have access to their very own felt farm (I know it sounds bitter, but I'm really just jealous). My local Wal-Mart (the only source of craft supplies within 30 miles) had only four colors of useful felt.  One road trip later, we each made the Michael Jackson feltie! Now my goal is to make and make and make them until I eventually have enough to make Halloween garland...or a small army of magnets. These pictures are my own...

Heads! 

Finished product with the destructions!