I found this blog dlittlegarden that had a funny tagline: “Ugly things: all made by hand.” I’m like, hah! That should be the name of my blog.  Recently I’ve been thinking of knitting a dickey, and I realized that I may have totally lost my mind. I wish that I, like Brooklyn Tweed, only knitted beautiful and elegant items, but instead, I’m like ooh! Loud sock yarns! A hat connected to a scarf! Maybe a dickey! Knitting makes me weird, lose all taste, and turn into a granny living in the 1970s. I’m like a werewolf of tackniness; when I’m exposed to knitting, it turns me into a lover of weird shawls and other useless items.

This sock progress shot is actually from last week, I’m almost done, though not quite finished with the second sock. I have been watching a ton of Olympics and I think the commenters’ style of announcing is drilled into my head: “She’s approaching the heel turn, look at that precision! The picking of the stitches! Oh no! She’s dropped a stitch. A HUGE mistake, easily 8/10ths off. This may cost her a place on the medal stand.”