*Keeping the romance alive.*

Tonight, I knitted while Chris contemplated importing labor from Romania.
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*Tion Medon*
No post yesterday, because I sat down on the sofa last night and whimpered. I was tired. I knit about four rows. But that wussy knitter is gone now. I knit a lot today, listening to an audio reading of _Pride and Prejudice_ from “Librivox.”:http://librivox.org/

For those of you counting, there are nine days to go. To be precise, as of this writing there are 9 days, 11 hours, 54 minutes, and 10 seconds to go. Nine seconds. Eight. Seven…

However! We have documented progress! Behold:

The completed sock (part one).

Pretty special, isn’t it?
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*The view from here is pretty good.*

The sock, a work in progress, as adorned by Hershey:

This is the only shot in which he did not a) lick the sock, b) chew the needles, or c) grab the sock with a deadly-inaccurate claw. If it had been alpaca, y’all would be reading a somewhat expletive-heavy account of the official Knitting Olympics cat toy.
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*A true athlete looks beyond the pain.*

So today began the fourth day. I’m feeling it in my upper arms. You laugh? You try to grip sticks of wood half the diameter of chopsticks in your fingertips and maneuver string with them for hours at a stretch.

Sorry. I’m a bit testy. You see, it’s 12:31 in the morning. In five hours I will begin nursing a child who will pop up, bright and shiny-eyed, and demand, “Time for a snack? Pretzels and cheese and crackers?” And yet. I am sitting here, writing this, after performing what, to my untested mettle, was the scariest task so far.

Sock surgery.
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So the Spit moves. That’s a good thing.

And, see, progress:

I seem to be keeping up with my Documented Plan with regards to progress on the Knitting Olympics socks. They have reached the end of the requisite three-and-a-half lace pattern repeats and, though I was skeptical, I measured. The pattern said it should be about 6.75 inches; the sock was about 6.75 inches. Okay, so it was closer to 6.65, but set your logic aside and be here with me: I followed a pattern. It worked. _I got gauge._ For those of you for whom this means nothing, I cannot explain how rare and wonderful an occurrence this is. This is the thing that will keep me indefinitely in the land of Garments That Kinda Fit.

So, I’m an up person tonight. I knit lace. It’s supposed to look all wrinkly and squooshed, and it does. I set my goal for the day and I met it. And, I got gauge. If I had the energy this late in the evening, I’d do the happy dance. Ooo!

Now, I need to figure out how to block these socks, which, being lace, will be needing blocking. Perhaps I should visit the box stash again…