As a holiday, Labor Day has been kind of lost to me in the past couple of years. Its nicer significances--up the proletariat! Summer's last gasp! Hey, a day off!--have been subsumed by a different agenda: how to get the hell out of my neighborhood. See, I'm one block away from the route of the West Indian Day Parade--New York's biggest. When I lived at a safe distance, I loved this parade, primarily for the food (in all my years of attending, I have never managed to catch the impressive costumes--the timing of this event is best described as capricious). Now it's more about subway closings, people pissing on my stoop, and hours of window-rattling music.
Having now officially come out as old and grumpy, let me say again, it's Labor Day! My labors, let me show them to you!
Sandra's progress shots of her beautiful blue Marigolds reminded me that I never blogged my completed pair. These socks were such a pleasure to knit--I eagerly snatched them back up as soon as my sockpal socks* were completed. Still loving the happy combo of Pam's awesome pattern and Yarntini self-striping. I did mine toe-up; Sandra's are top-down and I think that may work a little better. The keen-eyed may notice that while the striping and pattern match almost exactly on my feet, some fudging may have been involved on the legs. Call it artistic license.
While I am confessing, I will also admit that I frogged twice to get the heels centered. Because I can be anal like that. But all that practice served to improve my short-row heel technique--no holes!
OK, the helicopters have been circling since 11:30 and more noise is yet to come. There are other FOs I need to write about, but for now I'm going to shut up the apartment, apologize to the cats, and flee. Happy Labor Day, everyone!
Hmm, her floors are nicer, too...