Furtive late night socks.

I have a confession to make. I don't like belled sleeves. They look fantastic on other people, don't misunderstand me. I think they look graceful, feminine, and just medieval enough to appeal to my non-academic love of all things pre-17th century. In fact, I love the way they look so much that I have several be-belled sweaters and shirts in my closet right now. The problem is that I never wear them. I just can't stand all that material flapping around my wrist while I try to do things like writing, cooking (*woosh* says the flappy sleeve near the stove), typing, and knitting. Even close-fitting sleeves are always pushed up to my elbows after I've had the shirt on for an hour or two. I know, I'm a strange, sad girl with claustrophobic wrists and I need help. But I also need to stop acquiring shirts with those swooshy sleeves. I realized this when I was working on my Tubey last night. I was once again convincing myself that I'd love the sleeves when I was done, because the sweater looked so great on Cassie in the photos. And then it hit me. I don't need to make the sleeves the way they are in the pattern. My god, I can alter that baby until it's just a tube top if I want. I won't, of course, but I think I am going to frog the sleeves to the elbows and make them 3/4 length instead. More pictures as this develops. And I started making a sock tonight. No pattern, just messing around with colors -- ok, two different shades of grey -- and seeing what comes out.