Still working on that scarf. I've got about four and a half of the twenty-seven repeats done. At this rate I'll have it done by Christmas. (This is why I say I need to knit more.)
Ryan is here and I'm happy as a clam. I always am when he's here, and I suspect it's probably due to the whole distance thing. He enjoys taking the random French books I have off of my bookshelf and going through them. Sometime he's going to teach me French. Sometime. But Ryan's arrival heralded a fear which I have held ever since my box of yarn came from KnitPicks -- he's allergic to the yarn I ordered. He says it's green, and it kind of is (for those of you who don't know, he's allergic to blue dye [this means anything blue, purple, green, and the majority of the time, grey {what do I expect from a colorway named thyme, at any rate?}]). So I guess I'm going to have to take the thousand-odd yards of yarn I have and turn it into something for myself. Which I don't mind because it's a nice enough color. I could wear it.
I started some socks. It's kind of a recurring theme around here that I never finish anything and always start new things. I'm thinking that a nice, plain stockinette sock with that gorgeous golden yarn I ordered will make me happy. Ryan's not allergic to yellow, so he can have the socks. They're very happy and glowing and sunshine-y. That's why I'm calling them the Happy Socks.
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