Kitsch of Yester-year

HP 7 went on sale yesterday and I'm still desparately plowing my way through the fifth book. I want to be up-to-date before I read the final one. Pops picked up #7 from Costco the morning it was released and has since settled down to read it. He gives me smug looks at the dinner table and laughs when I clamp my hands to my ears and hum loudly when he drops hints about the plot.

Preparing for HP 7 has definitely been the reason for my knitting lapse; I think that I should continue with the VK pullover soon if I hope to finish it before it gets too cold to wear short sleeves!

A few evenings ago, the absense of knitting drove me to rummage through drawers in search of kitsch. And kitsch I did find!

Circa 1995. This sweater was knit for me by a family acquaintance while we were still living in Russia. Though this photo doesn't show it, the panels of ribbing are actually diagonal. The sweater is really itchy so I didn't like it much. I wasn't too keen on the color either. 'Still had to wear it, though...

Circa 1987. This dress was crocheted for me by my godmother. There's a tie in the front (photo on left) and a button closure in the back (photo on right). I've got to hand it to my mother, she kept this dress in pristine condition all this time!

Socks!! L to R: Slip-on socks made from dog hair (my guess is that it came from a dog my uncle's family used to own); wool socks; my baby socks! All of these were definitely brough over by either my mom or dad from Russia at some point.

More socks! These are a combination of dog hair and what looks like the same wool used for the white socks in the photo above.

Detail of the heel.

The potholder at the top was crocheted by my grandmother's neighbor, who then gifted it to my mother. I'm not ashamed to admit that I sniggered at it. A lot. Dad came home, took one look at it, and scoffed. He then began to rummage through the kitchen drawers, looking for something. After asking him what he was after multiple times, he replied that he was looking for his mother's crocheted potholders. I benignly pointed to a hook on the wall above his head which held the two potholders (bottom photo). "Now that's crocheting", dad proclaimed. I've always been in awe of his mother's handiwork, though I've only just begun to truly appreciate and understand it.

Her crocheted coasters.

Amazingly, these items satisfied my need for a knitting fix without me even so much as looking at a pair of needles. Pathetic? Maybe. Nostalgic and inspirational? A definite 'yes'!