d'oh!mestic

Another entry for Knitdown 2010: Jeeves, a knitted sock for gentlemen.

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Eagle-eyed sorts will notice that Jeeves look awfully familiar. I modified the original pattern for a DK weight yarn and cranked out a pair in a gorgeous blue silk blend for my father-in-law’s birthday. The name Jeeves came after my mother gave me metric ton of her Wodehouse and I was reminded how Jeeves came into Bertie’s employ:

“I had found Meadowes, the fellow I had taken to Easeby with me, sneaking my silk socks, a thing no bloke of spirit could stick at any price … I was reluctantly compelled to hand the misguided blighter the mitten and go to London to ask the registry office to dig up another specimen for my approval. They sent me Jeeves.”

So they did.

So, apart from getting waylaid by the sad woman with her sad story in Barnes & Noble last weekend, I also managed to get a little book shopping in.

Actually, it wasn’t shopping so much as it was replacement. Several times in the last couple of weeks, I had gone into the upstairs book-o-teria and book-bookery that is the home office in search of either Gone with the Wind (Every time I pick it up, I mean to read it with a critical eye, and every time, I fail — but damn it, I was going to try again) or Pride and Prejudice, and both books, both beloved copies were missing.

I looked everywhere. I mean, EVERYWHERE for either one, and came up with bupkis, so we went trooping off to the bookstore for replacements.

And now, if you looked at my nightstand, you’d get a snapshot of who I am these days: Jane Austen stacked on top of Margaret Mitchell stacked on top of Harper Lee stacked on top of J.K. Rowling, with Sarah Vowell and Abraham Lincoln (the man himself) leaning in on the action, all covering up the secret shame of a woman’s glossy and a doorstopper work of English chicklit.

I finished Pride and Prejudice the night I bought it, and I’ve been working my way through GwtW on my own, while reading a bit of Harry Potter (Sorcerer’s Stone) out loud to Adam every night, while the rest I pick up at random, open somewhere in the middle and just read.

I can’t believe a quarter of the American population is missing out on this joy. Really, it breaks my heart.