Mr. Pom’s love has come along. His lonely years are over. His life is like a song (in the sock drawer… so muffled, but still musical).

And a fine-looking sock she is, if I say so myself. Love the Claudia Handpainted “Plumlicious” merino sock yarn. Love the look of the Pomatomus pattern, although I’m less ardent about its execution. I don’t know that I’ll be making more of these, but I’m sure going to love the stuffing out of the pair I’ve got.

It actually got cool enough to wear wool socks again for a few days; a freak storm blew through just before the weekend, bringing rain and wind (and an incredible wallop to the allergy-sufferers of the Portland area). There hasn’t been much sock knitting on this here blog of late, and with Sock Summit coming up in August, it’s time to get back on that horse! So next we’ll feature what I’m calling my Anna Makarovna socks: one inside the other. I’m doing a fair bit of secret present knitting for the many Occasions coming up mid-month, but I’m hoping to squeeze in some synchronized heel action in the next few days.

When Monday morning begins with the dog escaping from the yard and cruising over to the neighbors’ to sample their buffet of dirty diaper trash, it doesn’t augur for a good week. Given that the subsequent clean-up effort caused me to forget both my lunch and the reports I needed to edit today, let’s not even try to imagine what the fates may have in store. The world is probably trying to throw us a little something to balance against a lovely weekend that included an early morning bike ride, a thrilling finish to the Giro d’Italia, a nice dinner out with the Senior G’s in honor of their 35th anniversary (producing the leftovers now languishing on the kitchen counter), plenty of sock knitting, a trip to the farmers’ market…

… and an impromptu celebration of my neighbor Barb’s birthday, lounging in the grass in their beautiful garden and enjoying a birthday cake I whipped up for the occasion. I went with my new favorite cake recipe, which I’d made once before exactly as written and found excellent: neither too sweet nor too time consuming. But this time, I had rhubarb, and when rhubarb is in season I’m generally of the opinion that it ought to go into anything I might bake. So Barb got Apple and Rhubarb Yogurt Cake à la Clotilde. We had (shockingly) run out of maple syrup, so I substituted 1/4 c. of Lyle’s Golden syrup* and a scant 1/2 c. of turbinado sugar. The rhubarb I chopped in 1/4″ to 1/2″ slices and tossed with about 1 Tbsp. more turbinado sugar. One medium size, long stalk was exactly right to cover the top:

I pressed the rhubarb slices gently into the batter, sprinkled (as much as one can sprinkle wet clumps) the remaining sugar in the bowl over the top, then layered the apple slices on above, sprinkled again very lightly with a bit more turbinado sugar. I neglected to take a picture of the finished cake (you can tell I’ll never make a food blogger), but I’m happy to report that it was delicious and the rhubarb added just the right pleasing tartness without making the cake soggy.

I also gave Barb a drop spindle that I’ll be teaching her how to use, in my admittedly inexpert way. She knits a bit and she’s been intrigued by the spindle since I busted one out at early morning 2006 Tour de France screenings at the bike shop where she works (her husband was the recipient of the hat I knit from the resulting fiber). She managed to acquire a heap of wool, so I’m all set to grow myself a spinning partner! Just imagine the attention we’ll probably attract, drop spindling away on one or the other of our front porches on summer evenings…

*A treat unfamiliar to far too many Americans—and you really should go read about it, as this article typifies the wonders of Wikipedia. I, for one, had no idea that the lion on the label is a) Biblical, and b) dead. I thought he was sleeping and bothered by flies. While I’m slightly stricken to be disabused of my gentler interpretation, I do love me a Peculiar Inventor story (someone remind me to Netflix that documentary about Dr. Bronner, okay? Go read the label of one of his soap bottles—ideally aloud to friends, and it’s best if you’re all a little tipsy or otherwise in a jolly mood—if you don’t know what I’m talking about. Arctic owls and Mark Spitz! All one or none!), and it looks like Mr. Abram Lyle fit the bill.

I’m working on the second prototype of the Islander sweater, and thought you might like to see how it looks before the sleeves go on. See the horizontal stripes of colored yarn at each side below the yoke? I’m going to pull those out, pick up the loose stitches above and below, and knit them in the round down to the cuffs. You can also see the short rows above, which lift the back of the neck by about an inch.

The yarn, in case you’re curious, is Koigu leftovers from my Andamento sock and Knit Picks Essential Sock in, I think, Charcoal. I wouldn’t call the latter an ideal yarn for this project. It’s a little thin and hard, not bouncy like the Koigu, but I wanted to use up some stash and I thought the color would work well against the Koigu scraps. Actually, I ran out of the original leftover color a couple of ridges before the end of the yoke, so I broke into a new skein of harmonious blue/mauve Koigu that’s also been marinating in the sock yarn drawer for a good long time.

And once I had that new skein wound up, I couldn’t resist casting on a new sock. Actually two socks. It’s going to be a sock inside a sock, which I’ve wanted to try since I read the passage in War and Peace where Anna Makarovna pulls a second finished sock out from within the visible one, to the amazement and delight of the children. Katrin thinks I’m nuts. But I can’t be the only one who’s intrigued. At least five other people on Ravelry are. I’m knitting the ribbed cuffs separately, but I’ll show you a picture when I join them!

Sometimes the weather really is too good to stay inside and knit, and anyway, how could I just leave this beautiful machine in the garage? Yep, that’s the Serotta Ti, and she’s one-third mine! (Happily, my neighbor is willing to accept an installment plan.) Isn’t she gorgeous, raspberry sorbet pink and all? I *heart* her. You’ll have to forgive the iPhone photo; the SLR really doesn’t fit comfortably in the back pocket of a cycling jersey. You’ll also have to forgive my glowing lobsterishness. This is about eighteen miles into the twenty-six we covered on Sunday, which is the longest I’ve ridden in quite a long time, and that’s just how my face gets. I match my bike!

It was the first time I’ve seen Cathedral Park, under the St. John’s bridge—a very promising spot for picnicking above the river. We didn’t picnic, though; we were travelling light. But we did stop for tacos at Por Que No? on the way home, which made for a perfect afternoon.

Evenings are being spent working on the Frost Flowers cardigan. Those of you warning me to ditch it now are probably right, but my mother would tell you I’m awfully stubborn. Apparently I am also optimistic to a perverse degree, because somehow I’m still holding out hope that I’ll really like this sweater when it’s finished. I’m just getting comfortable enough with the double-sided frost flowers motif that I can work on it while I watch the Giro d’Italia coverage. I’m tickled that today’s Cuneo to Pinerolo queen stage takes the peloton through the mountains where Mr. G and I travelled to see some of the Olympic skiing in 2006. The race went right through Oulx, the town we hiked and glissaded down to after the women’s freestyle was cancelled for too much snow and the buses couldn’t get back down the mountain, and through Sestriere where we saw the men’s downhill. What beautiful country it is up there. Motivation to get stronger at riding the hills!