I'm very glad that the socks I'm knitting right now are for my mother and not for me. I don't think I'm ever going to be able to look at them again after this week. They're a perfectly nice pair of socks - an unexceptional lace pattern in the "Crazy Lady" colorway from Mountain Colors - a pretty blend of purple, teal, burgandy, and orange.
Unfortunately I've done most of the second sock while sitting in Clark Memorial Hospital with my eldest son. He's got a stomach/intestinal complaint that has so far defied diagnosis. He can't eat at all (2 Ritz crackers in three days), he can barely drink, and he's pretty much constantly either nauseous or in pain. We've spent hours in the emergency room, and a few in the radiology department, plus time with his pediatrician. The only limited success we've had so far, is that we've managed to keep him hydrated enough to not be admitted - but we're slowly losing that battle. All we know is what it's not - it's not rotovirus, it's not apendicitis, it's probably not a blockage - every test we do eliminates a few more possibilities, but nothing has told us what it is.
Knitting on the Crazy Lady sock seems entirely appropriate, but I'll probably never use the yarn again. The associations are too strong.