A few more pictures of the latter part of my Denver trip, during which I worked very hard on my boxers and shawls (as there was not much else to do):
Beautiful, if not desolate, hills west of Cheyenne.
Encounters with dangerous beasts. Thankfully, I know how to wield a US #3 circular needle.
Exploring the rugged countryside with expert mountaineers.
I felt deeply that something was missing in this picture, and have identified it as a fast-food restaurant. You have no idea what I mean until you read the sign that says, "Next Rest Stop, 56 miles," only to realize that the last one only had a bathroom and some lovely brochures. Which really do taste lovely, by the way.
Now get ready...
My little wilderness guides watched my boxers taking shape throughout the few days we spent together, and when I left, I had just picked up the stitches for the waistband. Perhaps it's just as well that they didn't see the final product. But now, thanks to the discerning eye of QueerJoe, we have some photos of them that ain't half bad, if I may say so.
I'm not kidding when I praise Joe for his photographer's eye. The first photos of the seat of these shorts looked more like diaper-butt than anything, but some awkward posing and a persevering eye turned a huge bummer into a total asset. (I can hear you groaning right now.)
Are these perfect? Nope. But I wouldn't mind answering the front door in them, so long as I can recreate these poses.
And no, they don't itch.