I am married to the man I have loved for more than 30 years. And what romantic things do we do for Valentine’s Day? Absolutely nothing. Well, we exchange cards. But we agreed a long time ago that it’s what happens ALL 365 days of the year, not just on February 14, that matters. Knowing that this man loves me and will never leave me and that I feel the same way about him; that we have raised two wonderful children together; that we have made countless memories; that we not only love each other but are still IN love with each other is worth more than all the flowers, balloons, and teddy bears on the planet.
In knitting, as well as love, you need a partner. I have four. Here is one of them.
This is Sophia, or Sophie for short — or when she’s being exceptionally silly, Fifi (which is what my daughter christened her when I brought her home because she was too small for a big name like Sophie. Some students found her in the bus loading zone and brought her to me so that she wouldn’t get abused or hurt. I didn’t need a fourth cat, but she was (and is) such an endearing little thing, that I got one. She is much younger (and more exasperating) than the other cats, but they have adjusted pretty well. Except my son’s cat, who cannot accept that there are any other cats on the planet. Miss Sophie is very interested in the qualities which yarn possesses.
As you can see, she is supervising the winding of 100% merino handspun by my daughter. I taught my daughter to knit several years ago, but she announced that knitting just wasn’t for her. I tried not to hyperventilate. After all, you cannot live your children’s lives for them and part of being a mother is knowing when to let go. Then, I began reading the Yarn Harlot’s blog and I showed Brenna the pictures of the socks that Stephanie always seems to be knitting. She was completely and utterly fascinated by the “really cool socks.” Then Stephanie posted a link to the arrrrrgyle socks at Moth Heaven, and she was hooked. Now, you have to understand that my delicate, feminine daughter simply adores anything with skulls on it (go figure) and the only way to get arrrrgyle socks is to knit them. And her mother doesn’t (or hasn’t yet) knit socks. So that left her with only one resource — her own self. The yarn in her lap is actually part of a scarf, and her next project is a ribbed sleeveless turtleneck, but I am confident that she will get to the socks. Once Miss Sophie (who has become Brenna’s cat) finishes helping with the scarf, that is. In that way that only an attentive and loving helpmate can.
Frankly, I don’t know how you knit without a cat. Who else will bat your ball of yarn across the room, effectively unwinding most of it? Or chew the tips off of your bamboo needles, thus rendering them useless? Or get cat hair all over your new creation? And let us not speak of the serene knitting moments ruined by the sudden realization that the mysterious dampness on your yarn is undoubtedly kitty spit. How do knitters who only own loyal, faithful, dependable dogs do it? Where’s the excitiment?