And by hot I mean hot. This steady temp of 102 degrees in my city for three weeks now is getting old. I have taken to leaving a saucer of water out for the frog that has taken up residence on my porch. I am afraid if he leaves the shade to search for water I will find only a charred frog outline on the walkway. It's that hot. Frogs bursting into flames hot. Enough already.
So I am combating the heat by knitting woolen socks.
I completed one of my Bloody Mary socks. I'm halfway through the leg on the second pair, but my hopes of finishing it this weekend are dimming because of this:
Yes, I cast on for the Fad Classic.
(photo from Knit and Tonic)
I am using Blue Sky Alpacas Dyed Cotton in indigo. Boy, I like this pattern, but the top takes some focus before you join to knit in the round and I admit I cursed at it a few times. I look forward to wearing this with everything this fall. When small creatures are frolicking in the cool autumn air instead of bursting into flames.
Lovely handmade clothing is popping up on the blogs these days and I am becoming obsessed with making a skirt and possibly more for myself. Or giving up and waiting for the clearance sales at Old Navy. I used to wear black suits to work and totter on heels every day. Now I wear the mom uniform. Comfortable and cheap.
In my mind I am actually very chic. My hair is always just so and my waist is impossibly tiny. I wear dresses and pedal my cruiser to the market stand down the road to collect my daily bread and fresh veggies . The fender of my beloved bicycle is beginning to rust because I lean it against the wall beneath the window with potted geraniums. I own wellies to match each of my fabulous yet simple ensembles so I always look fresh even in my potager.
And then I wake up.