Last night: The Baron, in a rascally, teasing tone: “How come you’re writing about waggles? What is this crap? What about me? What about the knitting?”
Ok, so perhaps this is paraphrased. And perhaps I responded to his comments with a tickle attack. But he does claim that he only “skims” my blog looking for references to himself. I think that’s fine — at least he reads what I write regularly (hi mom!) and he actually has a front-row seat for most of the knitting and histrionics that go on in my little yarniverse, so I figure I’ll give the guy a break. (See dad, I’m taking your advice!)
The fact of the matter is that aside from housing my yarn stash and generally being a sweet and supportive guy, The Baron really doesn’t have that much to do with knitting. He is very tolerant, as long as the light I’m knitting by isn’t shining directly into his eyes or throwing glare at the TV. I even got a set of the Knit Light needles, and they’re waiting in the wings for when I start my next Clapotis. It’s not that I don’t want to knit for him, and it’s not that I’m really superstitious . . . except that maybe I am a little. Or perhaps it’s just respect for tradition, like behaving yourself in someone else’s house of worship. Shortly after his mom the master-crafter taught me how to knit, I decided to make The Baron a pair of socks as a holiday gift. Of course it was already mid December, I’d never knit socks before, and then there’s the matter of his feet. They are big. They are flat. They are not going to accept just any normal-sized sock. So, in my own grand gift-giving tradition (ie, giving other people presents that are secretly for me), I wrapped up two balls of sock yarn and a brand-new set of aluminum sock needles and presented it to him. Although I’ve since used the needles to complete a few pairs of socks, the plain, dark yarn never made it past swatching.
A few months later The Baron started dropping hints that he’d like a knitted hat. More accurately, he wanted a stocking cap, the long striped kind that Mr. Scrooge wears on his night journeys. We even went so far as to pick out some yarn to make a pom-pom for the tip. That yarn, too is still sitting at the bottom of my stash. It was actually in my search for a suitable hat pattern I first stumbled across Knitty.com, and it was on Knitty that I first learned about the curse. All you knitters out there know what I’m talking about, but for everyone else, here’s the quick version: Knit for your boyfriend, get dumped. It’s not so much that I believe this (in fact, there are many contrary examples out there, like my blog buddy Mick, whose “tricksy” guy managed to wrangle a knitted hat without any dire consequences) but why tempt fate? And shouldn’t we save something for marriage?
Now that I’ve gotten some sock knitting under my belt, I’m planning for that day, hopefully not too far in the future, when I can design and knit a perfect pair of socks for The Baron’s duck-feet. Maybe I’ll even use this as an excuse to take my very first knitting class.