I’m loving Socktoberfest!  I’m making Grumperina’s Jaywalker socks.  Because how could I not?  And I’m making them out of some lovely KPPPM. 


(That little blorble in the zig-zag up there is a fold in the sock, not a crazy-go-nuts sort of error)  I just started turning the heel on this first of the pair, and I’m finding the Koigu lov-er-lee and the pattern very well written. 

And as if making them weren’t fun enough, I’m making them during the breaks in my web-design class.  Whooppeeeee! Cuz this girl loves school.  Seriously loves it. Please, someone, anyone, grade me.  And it is all very fitting, because I’ve been pestering my company to send me to this class for a while, and they finally sent my on Birthday Week.  Yes, Birthday Week.  As in the week of many birthdays, including Scott’s and mine, but also Mikele’s and Alan’s and some other great folks whose names I can’t conjure up right now, but I know it’s not just the four of us.  Anyway, celebrations abound.  I’m very pro-birthday: I’m dedicated to celebrating our communal continued success at living, and I suggest everyone get on the bandwagon.  Because, seriously, the only alternative to growing older is, you know, morbidity.  Terminal.  Dirt nap.  Cake or death?!  Me, I’ll take cake every time. 

In my universe, your birthday starts when you get your first card or call or present, and goes until it’s no longer socially acceptable to celebrate your birthday because you’re tromping all over someone else’s birthday and need to go to the penalty box, or until your last, long-awaited present arrives from wherever it was shipped from.  I once had a birthday last for about four months.  It was wonderful, what with the constant "Yay I’m not dead" joy that surrounded me.   My birthday started a couple of weeks ago when my Mom gave me a big old Ikea gift card.  Woot!

Yesterday things really got underway.  It was Scott’s official birthday.  We went to the Serbian Crown and ate some lovely Russian food and drank some lovely Russian vodka.  And the presents started appearing in earnest.  Now, I try to be a good little hippie and minimize my footprint on this here planet.  I try, and generally I fail.  Because I like stuff, and I come from people who like stuff.  And my people are outdoing themselves this year.  My husband got me the DPN set of my dreams:

Look at all the Brittanys!
And my mother-in-law Karen sent me this fantastic bowl from Utah:



And, ok this isn’t really a present because I ordered it and paid for it and all, but I got this gorgeous yarny-goodness in the mail from Kiparoo:

Mmmmmmm, yarn.  And the big fun doesn’t even happen until Sunday.  A girl could just keel over with joy.

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