Jack thinks I'm crazy. He has no idea why I made him sit on the bench. He's irritated that I am making him look into the sun, and has no concept of the photographical technique called 'backlighting'. You will note that he is leashed to the bench. This is because the park by my office is not an off-leash park, despite the fact that children are allowed to run around screaming and pissing and snotting and pushing and pulling. If dogs should be kept on leash, then so should kids. I don't want your kids running up to me anymore than you want my dog running up to you. The key difference between Jack and your little poop-machine is that mine actually listens to every word I say and obeys all my commands on a dime. Anybody else see a double standard?
Enough with the rant, here's one finished sock and the cuff of #2. When I gave Karen the first sock to try on I thought I was going to have to pry it out of her hands. It was only through carefully chosen words that I was able to persuade her to surrender it, with promises to return it with a mate in the near future. No second sock syndrom for me.
