I just bought these socks on Friday. I wore them for the first time today, to walk the dogs, and when I got back, this is what I discovered.
Yeah, they're cheap, store bought socks, but still. I expected them to last more than one wearing!
Now, my fellow knitting compatriots will be wondering why I bought socks to begin with. Normally, I knit all my socks, but I love holiday themed socks. When doing my weekly re-supply run, I found some Christmas socks I liked, only they were sold as two pair. This was the other pair. So, I kinda had to take these to get the Christmas ones. I'm just glad it wasn't those socks I wore.
Speaking of socks, I was dutifully plugging away at my fun fur charity scarf, when I heard something calling my name. I looked around, and there was no one there. I knit another row on the scarf, when I heard my name again. I looked around again, and finally located the source of the whisper. It was the Conwy sock.
"Knit me", it said.
"No," I replied. "You're too complicated to knit while watching football."
"But I'm feeling neglected over here," it said, tearfully. Not wanting to hurt the sock's feelings, I picked it up and knit the rest of the leg, the heel, and the heel turn.
After the ball game, I went out and walked the dogs. We were on our way back, when I saw a guy walking down by the creek. I called the dogs to me and leashed them, because I don't completely trust either one of them around strangers. I don't think they would bite anyone, but I'm just not completely 100% sure. So, I felt better safe than sorry.
Well, the guy saw me and got on his ATV and drove up to where I was. He stopped, introduced himself and asked me if my dogs knew how to blood trail. He and some other men had been out hunting. They'd shot a buck, and lost it, and he was hoping my dogs could help them find it.
I had to tell him no. Rylea can track, but I couldn't guarantee that it wouldn't be a rabbit or possum she would be trailing. And of course, the neighbor's dog isn't trained to do anything. So, we just came on back to the house.
Where I found Squeaky being very naughty.
Yes, that is my Dallas Cowboys tray she is sitting on. She's not allowed on the counter to begin with, and certainly not on my Dallas Cowboys tray. I swear, sometimes she thinks she's a cat! Oh, wait...
Squeaky says, "What do you mean naughty? I'm not naughty! I'm just trying to say,
'HOW BOUT THEM COWBOYS!!!'"