August 15, 2003
Copy Cat
Apparently this is the week for spontaneous cloning. First, the black cat with a red collar that has adopted me -- even though he has a perfectly respectable home two houses down -- mysteriously metamorphosed into two black cats with red collars. I'm thoroughly used to the one cat wandering into my house so I didn't pay no ne'mind when, last night, a dark shape with a red collar started oiling its way around my living room, that is until the shape arched its back, got all big and black and hairy and tip-toey, and proceeded to beat the crap out of -- what's this?! -- another dark shape with a red collar?! Dark Shape Number Two turned out to be the original cat and Dark Shape Number One was zee interloper, and what looked like a to-the-death territorial fight turned out to be just some lame-o posturing since, according to their tags, they live in the same house.
And now this! (I'm waiting for Bench B to arch its back and get all tip-toey and beat the crap out of Bench A.)
Knitting Knews
While I plug away on my scarf and wait for Guild Night so Janine can help me be the best two-color sock knitter ever (you can do that, right, Janine?), I started ruminating about sock blockers.
I don’t get sock blockers. I understand blocking sweaters because you need to convince a sweater that it really is a sweater. If you just let a sweater dry on its own, it will mysteriously turn into a tam o'shanter or Faroese shawl. Socks on the other hand, with minimal convincing, dry in the shape of, well, socks.
When it comes to acquiring sock blockers, you seem to have two choices: purchase mind-numbingly expensive plastic ones (one pair for every size of sock, mind you, which, per one online site, would lighten your e-wallet by 72 smackeroos), or viciously torture a wire hanger until it turns into something that looks more like an amoeba than a sock. I suppose if you want an amoeba-shaped sock then this is the way to go.
On the rare occasion when I have needed sock blockers, my solution has been cardboard. This has so many advantages: It doesn’t require wrassling stiff and uncooperative wire and running the risk of skewering your hand and having to go to the emergency room for a tetanus shot, which is so far from where you had planned on being when you said innocently to yourself, “Hmmm, I think I’ll make a sock blocker;" it’s cheap; it’s easily available; and you can customize the blocker exactly to the socks for Auntie Gertrude who has extra narrow feet or Uncle Beauregard who is missing four toes. If you use stiff enough cardboard and remove enough water from the washed sock, the cardboard sock blocker holds up just fine. Besides, if, after a while, the blocker does develop toxic mold, why, heck, chuck it and make another one! Lastly, if you want the blocker to be ventilated so the sock will dry faster, punch a few holes in it with a hole-puncher. Total cost? $0.
I recently shared this information with a woman who was as confused by the need for sock blockers as I was. After our e-confab, she immediately went to her recycling, retrieved a Priority Mail box, and five minutes later had two cheap, disposable, customized sock blockers. Her e-mail back to me positively glowed with relief and pride. (So this is how I inspire people, eh? It ain't much of a calling, Lord!)
My favorite sock blockers so far have been the ones I made for the miniature sock ornaments I made for my sister’s family. A photo for your enjoyment:
Dye Garden Dyegest
The coreopsis is currently steeping. Photos soon. In the meantime, I thought I'd share a photo of my dyestuff "collection." Everything in these bags came from the dye garden!
