In which I experiment on my spouse

The Trekking socks progress, a pair of fraternal twins.

Harvey, on the left, is the sensible one, definitely the left-brained older sibling. His heel is traditional heel stitch, bordered by a 3-stitch garter selvage. He asks nothing extra, says "please," "thank you," and "excuse me," and cleans his plate. He'll settle into a shoe with nary a complaint. Flying under the radar, Harvey's quiet class will always be underestimated.


Harry, however, is the rebellious, artsy second child. His heel rocks the eye-of-partridge stitch with a twisted German chain selvage. He is fussy, meticulous, and high maintenance. He will rebel against shoes--Fight the man!--wanting to show off his rockin' bod to the world. Though we live in the land of birkenstocks-and-socks, I'm doubting my mild-mannered husband will indulge Harvey's desire to be on display.

As the Yarn Harlot says, the only reason for making socks in this day and age is because you love someone.

Damn.

Speaking of loved ones...seems all of my artful still-lifes have earned a fan and an imitator...sincerest form of flattery and all that.

I heard the camera beeping the other day, and witnessed Mr D, age 4, walking purposefully about his room, arranging and recording his belongings for posterity.

A sample: