I know it seems I’ve been gone a while, but really I haven’t. I’m still right here, covered up to my eyeballs with rambunctious boys. A tooth has been knocked out, an eye has been blacked and countless other moments of anxiety and tears that have gone unremarked anywhere outside of my own psyche…but through it all I’ve been here. Although sometimes, I admit, I have a harder time finding myself than others. So how can I blame you, dear reader, for having given me up as lost.

Days have gone on with little that felt worth the effort of recording. These end papers of summer feel a bit yellowed and singed from the constant, relentless onslaught of sun. But we do our best to squeeze some manner of pleasure from their waning light. A watermelon picnic — sticky, messy and altogether necessary in the life of a southern child. Late afternoon bike rides — where we pause often to collect interesting rocks and dappled leaves as well as the occasional bug or lizard . Dips in the pool where we see Jack strive for greater independence — daring his brothers to match his cannonballs and underwater backflips.

And for me…well, I’ve indulged in a bit of a creative lull. Finding, to my surprise, yarn cannot be forced into something it wasn’t meant to be. And words don’t necessarily line up and beg to be pinned to the page unless there’s some real meaning or intention behind.

Feeling a lot like the cicadas we’ve found in various stages of undress across our yard, I’m pushing my way out from an old skin. One that’s grown dry, brittle, and more than a little confining. I hear the cicadas only indulge in this activity once every 17 years or so, yet I find myself metamorphosing almost every year about this time. As the leaves begin to wither and the light takes on the ochre tinge of autumn, I’m awakening from a soporific* summer’s slumber. One where I can remain outwardly as busy as a bee, while inwardly hibernating — lulled by the constant drone of activity.

I hope it lasts a while, this most recent awakening. I’ve found I miss me when I’m gone.

*I strongly believe interesting, lovely words should be used with wild abandon. Please feel free to take this ten dollar treasure and claim it as your own with my blessing and well-wishes.

And blocked as well as I could with only 40 pins (give or take):

You’ll have to excuse the sort of crappy iPhone pictures, but I just couldn’t wait to share. And now I’m off to bed as I’ve spent the last three hours binding off and blocking this monster.

Never having done Magic Loop socks one at a time, I was a bit nervous, but could see how the whole thing should shake out in my head and figured it couldn’t be that hard to transfer that mental image  onto a 47′ circular knitting needle. Haha and HA! to that one. I wound up buggering the cast on beyond all belief and had to use a second set of needles to reorient everything the way I knew it should be. Here’s a shot that illustrates the big picture.

And here’s one that shows off my drop dead gorgeous Koigu yarn. I could eat this stuff, it’s so enticing.

Essentially, you’re casting on the first half of two socks on one side of the circle and the other half on the other side. Then it’s a fairly simple matter of knitting in the round, working through the front half of both socks then the back of each — careful not to forget to switch yarn balls in between. Did I mention you’re knitting each sock from a separate ball of yarn? No? Well, that my friends is wherein lies the rub.

It isn’t the Magic Loop. It isn’t knitting two socks at once. Nope, what is currently driving me to drink is the two dueling balls of yarn dangling from one needle. I didn’t have the trouble I expected — where I accidentally knit from the wrong ball. It was just the simple act of keeping them untwisted from each other. I’m a hair’s breadth away from transferring one of them onto another set of needles and finishing them off one at a time. But I’m trying to hang tough.

The whole point of knitting socks two at a time is to have two identical finished objects of the same length, gauge, tension — you name it. All the stuff that’s important when knitting a pair of anything. The last two pairs of socks I’ve knit (those would be the only two pairs of socks I’ve knit) have had subtle differences between the two. Subtle but Totally. Infuriating. Differences. If I can just tough it out, I hope this little experiment will prove to be fruitful.

Cross your fingers and throw a few words of support my way whenever you think about it. Thanks for dropping by The Drunch. It’s always great to see you.

Here’s what the craft closet looked like when I found it:

What’s that brown fuzzy stuff? you may ask. Why that’s hair, of course. Sam’s hair to be specific.

Hair he could ill afford to sacrifice after his last haircut. He managed to snip a lock from Jack’s forehead as well as shredding both their shirts.

A friend asked if it was out of the question for everyone to pamper ME today. I’ll let my answer be the whir of the vacuum as I go try and get as much hair as possible out of the playroom carpet. Do me a favor…somebody go get a pedicure today in my honor, o.k.?

Yarn Swift

To all you non-knitters. This is a big deal, trust me.

courtesy of strangeangel on Ravelry. I’m an idiot. This is totally gorgeous. But…too late. On to the next project!

Gus likes to roll in stinky things. Usually, I make Jason take care of it. But today I was feeling especially capable, the boys were being really good, and so I felt I could duck outside long enough to clean Gus up myself.

So hose on, dog at the ready, audience of 4 small boys with noses pressed to the screen…no dog shampoo. I ducked back inside and rummaged around for a substitute.

Dish washing liquid? Too harsh.

Baby Shampoo? Hmmm…perhaps a little too gentle. We’re talking industrial strength stink here.

I dig a little deeper into the cabinet. What’s left…waaayy back in the back? Head and Shoulder’s Dandruff Shampoo.

So now Gus not only smells clean, but also can rest easy knowing he won’t be embarrassed the next time he wears that sleek black turtleneck.

Don’t you just love your social commentary served up with a hefty dollop of satire?