Behold...

If you were a prisoner of Alcatraz and just two hours of digging with a wooden spoon stood between you and freedom, would you keep digging through the pain and ruined manicure, or get some sleep for that 10 A.M. Spinning class at the gym? Hello wooden spoon!

Here it is, in it's splendor and glory--the tangible evidence of my humility (ha!). I introduce to you... the sock!

Indeed, it looks odd. The ankle is loose, and that is just the fugliest toe I've seen on a sock yet (note: gotta ask for help with Kitchener stitch on Sunday...). However, Senor loves it and understands the love and commitment that it symbolizes. I should have been in bed hours ago, but how could I sleep with my opus sitting unfinished in a jar? Besides, just being done will energize me enough for that dang cycling class tomorrow.

Then it's on to the other sock!