Thus, the winner is...(Blog-Free?) Sherry! Those are some cutie-patootie yellow Monkeys on that Flickr page, by the way (scroll down a bit to see). You can really see the pattern details in that happy yellow yarn. Not that I'm jealous or immediately went pawing through my stash for somewhat solid yarn or anything.
Thanks everyone for playing! I tried to respond to as many of you directly as I could, but I don't always get an email address from Blogger. If I didn't respond, just know that I read and thoroughly enjoyed your comments. And I've got a whole bunch of new blogs to check out, which is a huge bonus!
In other knitting, my friend Kelley (recipient of My Pretties) is starting her first baby sweater. I concocted a pattern mostly based on the Placket-Neck Pullover (sans placket) from Last-Minute Knitted Gifts. It will look kind of like this. Nice straightforward bottom-up raglan action.
Equally clearly, she is a woman with good taste in yarn. Witness the Araucania Pomaire she picked out.
I predict wonderful things of her. Cuz this yarn is about 400 times prettier in person. To the point where I kept asking her if I could knit "just one row" on her sweater to see how the colors were lining up. Those few rows convinced me that all the yarn I currently have is crap. According to the Yarn Harlot, this is one of yarn's first tricks, but I fall for it every time.
I was particularly impressed that Kelley wanted to ball up her new yarn at the bar immediately afterwards.
Our very Irish twenty-something waitress brogued "You've got a whole cottage industry set up here. I feel like I should get a loom and join you." Then she pointed out that the balling up process would work much more smoothly if we used two chairs to hold the skein open. Smart lady.
Finally, in a labor of love not unlike the labors of mighty Hercules (though with less shoveling of poo), I finished TB's first sock. While I'm charmed by the way the heel and toe striping matched up, I'm still somewhat amazed at the sheer enormity of man feet.
And yes, I did make him try it on again in the 95+ degree, ungodly humid heat on Saturday.
Because sometimes love means "trying on a partially knit sock for the twentieth time even though it's well over a hundred degrees out according to the heat index."