Thematic madness

I saw on Facebook this morning that The Very Hungry Caterpillar turns 45 years old today. Once I tell Genevieve, she will insist that the Caterpillar needs a cake, to blow out candles, and sing "Happy Birthday" because now she gets the Birthday Protocol. (That is also in order of importance to her, by the way. Cake, candles, sing.)

KidBrotherSam and I both loved The Very Hungry Caterpillar as kids (and The Very Busy Spider, as well, for the record).

[Fun fact: for YEARS, KidBrotherSam would say "ca-li-pitter". SO CUTE.]

One of my favorite things about being a parent is sharing things that I loved as a kid with Genevieve. Specifically, books. I come from a family of "readers"- we had bought a library of books for Genevieve before we had clothes, diapers, or furniture. Reading is, obviously, a priority for us.

Ever since Genevieve has become independently mobile, we have had a rule: if someone is reading to you, you need to sit on their lap. (Or snuggle up next to them.) This works on a number of levels: we get the (increasingly rare) snuggle time, and she learns to sit and focus on one thing at a time. Also, snuggles.

[We have her give us kisses before reading a story, as a sort of payment. With toddlers, it's important to get payment up front. Toddlers have terrible credit.]

We are mostly moved out of board books, which makes me both sad and glad; sad that she's not a little baby anymore, glad because I don't find myself saying things like "Books are for reading. Let's get you a chewie for your teeth."

(Seriously. Our copy of "But Not the Hippopotamus" is so chewed that THERE IS NO ARMADILLO.)

And I, like one Mouse who is Given a Cookie, can not resist the logical progression of thematic madness. So, here we go:

If you read a DangerMouse "The Very Hungry Caterpillar", you might find Cascade Greenland on sale, in a nice, leafy green.

Once you have nice, leafy green yarn, you will find the pattern for a sweater with a leafy buttonband.

Cascade, by Raya Budrevich

Once you knit the sweater with the leafy buttonband, you'll block the sweater.

Because blocking is important.

Once you block the sweater, you'll need matching grosgrain ribbon to back it with.

From TheRibbonSupply on Etsy

Once you have applied the grosgrain ribbon, you'll need thematic buttons to match.

I know that he didn't eat grapes.

Once you find those buttons, you'll have an AMAZINGLY talented listener make you special buttons which blow the other ones out of the water, so you'll put those on instead.

Yes, they were a gift. No, she won't make more. (I asked, sorry.)

Once you apply the Special Buttons, you wait for the weather to accommodate the wearing of a sweater, and then stealthily snap a couple of pictures of a DangerMouse in her Hungry Caterpillar sweater.

The holes are great for counting. And sticking fingers in.

And it's not a picture, if you don't Gopher Grin.

And if you knit a Very Hungry Caterpillar sweater...

...You might need to knit an "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie" sweater.

Measure in leaves

I bound off Genevieve's Playful Stripes cardigan while she was napping a few weeks ago.

It's exhilarating finishing the knitting on a sweater. Especially a little sweater. But really, the best part is what comes AFTER the bindoff.

Playful Stripes cardigan by Alana Dakos

Casting on ANOTHER tiny sweater.

Cascade cardigan, by Raya Budrevich.

This sweater practically knit itself. "Just one more leaf!" I would think to myself, knitting frantically during naptime, after she was in bed at night, until my eyes started to cross.

It has to be some seriously good knitting for me to pass up on sleep these days. I can't even begin to tell you how much I enjoyed knitting this sweater. I even enjoyed *blocking* it. (MADNESS!)

The yarn (Cascade Greenland) is delightfully round, robust, and substantial, which makes it an utter joy to knit with. It's the next best thing after working with my own handspun.

While I was working on it, I couldn't help but think of The Very Hungry Caterpillar, which I've had memorized for some time now. "On Sunday, he had one nice green leaf, and he felt much better."

Nice green leaves

Then I went all If You Give a Mouse a Cookie on this sweater. I dug through my button box and found caterpillars, but it wasn't enough. We found oranges, grapes (not entirely accurate, but close enough), strawberries, a butterfly, and apples (with the help of a friend). I also found grosgrain ribbon with The Very Hungry Caterpillar.

I remember reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar to KidBrother Sam, when he was little; how he used to say "cal-i-pittar", how we would count all of the fruit and poke our fingers through the holes. And now we're sharing this with Genevieve, and creating new memories.

It's not quite finished, but I am already so excited about this sweater. It will be something beautiful that reminds her of one of her favorite books.

I guess, sometimes you measure love ... in leaves.

AlaKAZAM!

There has been lots of baby talk on here as of late. I'm still amazed at how much time and attention tiny people (who seem to spend most of their time sleeping) require. Lest you fear that I have forsaken my love of All Things Fiber-y, I offer you a little proof that I have not.

Skeptical Houdini Socks for Andrew

I decided to try knitting a pair of Houdini socks for Andrew- mostly because they're really, really satisfying to knit - and partly because I know he likes his socks snug, and these totally fit the bill. He was skeptical that he would like the fit of any socks that weren't ribbed from cuff to toe (the one problem with having a man who knows his knitting), but I assured him that he would love the fit of these.

I can't explain *why* these fit better than a sock with (for example) a short-rowed heel, but they do. Someday, over a mug of coffee, I will ask Cat to explain it to me, and I will finally see the light. (I promise to tell you what the secret is, as soon as I know.)

These are further than they appear in the photo (first sock is DONE!), and I had Andrew try it on. I have a feeling that one Tall and Handsome Man will be having a serving of Crow with a side of Humble Pie shortly.


There are so many things I love about these socks; especially the yarn. Oh Regia, yarn of my heart. What I may love most is the bold 10-year warrantee on the label. Way to throw down the gauntlet, Regia.

The most appealing part of these socks might be the complete lack of a wretched heel flap. It seems to take me a year to knit a 2 1/2" square of fabric, but 12 inches of stockinette tube and seven inches of ribbing? I can knit *that* in ten minutes. (Not really ten minutes. Allow me some hyberbolic license here.)

I am enjoying the knitting on these socks so much that I'm actually *excited* about knitting a fresh drawer of socks for Andrew.

Somehow a drawer full of socks seems less daunting than finishing the sleeves on the sweater. It's all about perspective these days.

For Meghan, with a little help from my friends

Last year, Meghan knit a beautiful sweater for herself. Unfortunately, it was Way Too Small for her. It happens.

When she mentioned on her podcast that it was Way Too Small and was debating a course of action for her (basically) finished sweater, I pinged her and asked if she thought it would fit me. After a brief moment, she said, "Yes," and I offered to knit her a sweater in exchange for the one that didn't fit her.

She sent me a gorgeous sweater, which is very Meghan. Meghan has the kind of style where she can throw clothes together and look stylish. If I do that, I just look homeless and usually colorblind. But look at this gorgeous thing!

Gorgeous, right?

It's fun, and matches a TON of stuff in my wardrobe.

After some discussion, Meghan chose the Twist cardigan (by Bonne Marie Burns, who is a genius) in a heathered hunter green.

First, I started by sending her a a photo of the yarn, to confirm the color:

Cascade 220, out of my stash

Then, the swatch:

Swatching in the car

Then began the sweater. And the taunting.

As I made progress on the sweater, I learned a few things. The first was how to drop down and fix a cable without ripping back on the sweater. The second was a reminder on how much I LOATHE sewing in sleeves. But you know what I do love? Knitting ribbing and cables.

This shade of green makes me think of the drive up to Oregon. Woodsy.

This sweater traveled all over creation with me while I worked on it, and I LOVED knitting the body.

Terrible color. I'm blaming the piano, where I chose to photograph it.

I can't even tell you how pleased I was to finish the body, and how proud I was when I pinned it to the bust. I might have left it there for a while and admired it whenever I walked by it.

This picture makes me think of a figurehead. For the SS Kay.

The body of the sweater felt like it was FLYING off my needles I was working it so fast. The sleeves? Not so much.

It's not that knitting sleeves is hard. I think it's mostly that the bloom is off of the rose with the garment at that point**. There is also the needing to knit two-ness of it. I usually knit my sleeves two at a time using the magic loop technique, but I didn't for this sweater. Mostly.

I started them two at a time, but between the tangling of the yarn, the turning the cables without a cable needles, and the general ennui caused by the knitting of sleeves, I decided to take a couple of the (possibly emotional) roadblocks out of knitting sleeves.

You know I don't like knitting sleeves because there are ZERO photos of the sleeves in progress.

The sweater sat and sat and sat, pieces all knit, waiting to have the sleeves set in. I kept putting it on my to-do list, and *somehow* I managed to forget, or run out of time, or pretend that I had forgotten and ran out of time.

Chloe knew about the sweater, knew that the pieces were done, and has always knows how much I *loathe* finishing work. I had fresh cookies at the house, and Chloe informed me that she would be coming over and setting in the blasted sleeves. T-minus one week to Camp KIP.

And then, the finishing FLEW. I knit the buttonband, found a volunteer with Meghan's bust size so that I could place the non-negotiable buttons, Mom sewed in the grosgrain ribbon while I did our laundry and got prepared for Camp. I sewed on the buttons, which I bought at the Button Emporium, and used buttons that looked like little pewter balls of yarn for backing buttons, and one lone sheep.

I redid the buttonholes four times. Each fancy buttonhole I tried was too much for the perfect little buttons. With great regret, I fell back on the YO, K2tog buttonhole that I learned so many years ago, when I was knitting my first sweater. It was a perfect fit for the sweater.

It just needed *one* more thing.

My finishing touch

I sighed a huge sigh of relief, tossed it in my backpack, and the sweater joined us on our adventure to Camp KIP.

There was a little more taunting before delivery, but my faaaaaaaaavorite thing was when I finally gave it to Meghan:

She likes it! Meghan likes it!


**One exception: unless the sleeves are the interesting part of the sweater. See: Mariah hoodie.

Block, blocking, blocked

When I was in marching band, lo those many years ago, we had an instructor who would say, "If you can say it, you can play it." I'm of the opinion that the saying works just as well for knitting.

Say it with me: block, blocking, blocked. See? Easy.

I would by lying if I told you it was quick. It's a little tedious, but the payoff is there. See?

Meghan's Twist Cardigan, almost finished!

Here's what I did.

I wove my dressing (or blocking) wires up both outside edges, then through every single stitch on both outside edges of the cables. (Precision work like this totally tickles my OCD, for the record.) This sweater has beautiful shaping, so blocking it square would be positively criminal.

I used the same technique to block Meghan's Twist that I used for my own- to only block the edges and the cables so that the cables would pop. (This brilliant idea was shared by Kathy in San Jose.)

It's a runway of cable-y goodness.

And BOY do they!

It took three episodes of Battlestar Galactica (two hours, fifteen minutes) to get it totally blocked- from setting up the Knitter's Blocks through steaming it. I know you're thinking "Two and a half hours? That's a lot of time."

Here's the payoff: the family has been living with this sweater. They've seen it nearly every day since I started swatching for it a few months back. Every single person who passes this sweater on the table stops to admire it, and comment on the difference that blocking has made. Every. Single. Person. (This makes me think that I really should have done a "before" picture. Next time.)

I love the effect of blocking. It really elevates the level of my work, and corrects a multitude of tiny inconsistencies. It also means spending some quality time with Steamy, and you know how I look forward to our encounters.

And for those of you who use the all-too-common "It'll block out," this goes doubly for you. It can't block out if you don't do the blocking.

Mitts and pics

Alison has been sick. You know this already. Here are the mitts I made for her:

In other news, I got a new camera. Lisa took this picture of Mom while we were at Bobbin's Nest yesterday:

(cropped for Ravatar-y goodness)

The socks have landed

I got a phone call from TEMom. Evidently, someone sent her a generic looking package. With suspiciously neat handwriting. And a pair of handknit socks.
What I may have neglected to mention in the previous post is that TEMom is a recreational knitter. Meaning, of course, that she doesn't take her knitting as seriously as those of us who are true addicts. It also means that her projects take longer to finish, and thus, all knitting is perceived to be very time consuming.

Since we know that the corollary :

[Time] = [Love]

we can conclude that

Lots[Time] = Lots[Love]

TEMom couldn't stop raving about them. The label seems to have sealed the deal, with the care instructions, sizing, etc. I can now see the joy in knitting for knitters.

I’m not that kind of girl

It’s true. There are the Alisons of the world, the ones who knit selflessly for others and rejoice in spreading the knitterly love. Then, there are people like me.

I am not one of them. I am, in fact, the meanest knitter you’ll ever meet. When people ask me to knit for them, I either respond with my hourly rate (which is that of an educated professional, thank you), or I say, “There are some things I do for love, and some things that I do for money.” Sometimes I just say, "No." Sometimes I taunt them until they cry.

Sometimes, I am a sucker. This is one of those cases.

I’ve blogged about my in-laws before. Andrew comes from a Big Roman Catholic family. Five siblings total, eight nieces and nephews, and all of the sibs are married. That’s eighteen people with JUST his immediate family, not including any future children we plan to have. As with all families, each sib (and their spouse) is as different as the next.

We spend most of the major holidays with my BIL (The Entrepreneur)’s family. His parents couldn’t be nicer people and they routinely open their home and hearts to the extended in-laws (he is married to Andrew’s sister, TE isn’t Andrew’s brother). TE’s Mom is a knitter. She’s incredibly cool, very friendly, and thinks that my knitting is the cat’s meow.

TEMom has been pretty sick. In and out of the hospital. Major surgery. (Details spared here. You can thank me in the comments section.) On Easter, TE and I were talking about TEMom, and he mentioned that he thought it would just be great if I could whip up a pair of “get well soon” socks. I may (or may not) have had a couple of glasses of wine at this point, and thought it was a terrific idea.

I called Purlescence, who pulled some Casbah off the shelf for me, and I cast on the socks the next day. Despite my loathing of “obligatory knitting” (because when there is a due date, it becomes obligatory), I worked through it, and finished them as quickly as I could stomach.

The minute that the toes were grafted, I called Andrew and told him to call TE to let us know when to drop off TEMom’s socks. No call back. Rinse, repeat. Get annoyed that I put hours of work in on his behalf.

I looked up their mailing address, and shipped them myself. With a card. Wouldn’t you feel better if you got this in the mail?

I know I would.

Phew!

Christmas is over. I kicked “It” squarely in the ass. I give you, two completed hats for my father:

It is unkind to take pictures of people without warning them ahead of time. That’s why Sinead, my glass head, is posing in the hat. My father looked exhausted in the pictures.
The pictures that follow are “au natural”. You’ve been warned.
Andrew had a Trek-alicious Christmas; I got him four of the eight Star Trek Micro Machine collections.

See? I actually surprised him AND he loved the gift.
Though I was not surprised, I think you can tell that I loved my gifts:



Nothing says ‘I love you’ like wool. Luscious, soft, handpainted, superwash wool from Crown Mountain…

…in quantities.

The dogs had a good holiday, too. But the pictures make them look bored.

The highest point of our Christmas season: The ornaments that Colleen made me. They are snowman approximations of me, Andrew, and Mom. The resemblance is uncanny.

N’es pa?

Thanks, C-Dawg

This last year has been extreme. The good things were incredible, and the bad were terrible. When times are tough, I’m always thankful for good friends. This year has been so wrought with tough times that I’m surprised I have any friends left, to be honest.

One person stood out among the crowd for me- where just saying “thank you” didn’t feel like enough. So what did I do?

I knit a lace shawl. Well, half of a lace shawl. Ursula felt the same way I did, so she insisted on doing half, and was super-motivated and got her half done a full month before I finished mine. While my intentions are good, I am not a motivated knitter.

Thank you, Colleen.

Thank you for visiting Andrew in the hospital. Thank you for picking up and putting groceries (that I could eat) in the fridge while I ran around like a headless chicken dealing with Andrew’s medical stuff. Thank you for sitting with him while I went in to the Thankless Job in the mornings.

Thank you for all of your help with the townhouse. Thank you for all of the hours of manual labor, the staging, dealing with us being totally stressed out. Thank you for taking the dogs last minute when we were moving and our dog care fell through.

Thank you for always being willing to share the good stuff. I’m not good at sharing, but I’m trying.

Thank you for all of your help with disciplining the dogs. When I’m at my wit’s end, you always have an idea, and it always works, without fail.

Thank you for sharing your creativity with all of us. Those of us who lack that creative gene appreciate your out-of-the-hexagonal thinking, your color combinations, and your willingness to MacGuyver just about anything.

Thank you for standing up for me when my parenting was criticized.

Thank you for always being up for an adventure, a Costco run, or randomness.

Thank you for threatening to lay the smackdown on Andrew. That boy can get really uppity sometimes.

Thank you for being my roomie on the cruise. I’ll bring the necktie in the event of irresistible cabana boys.

A shawl isn’t really enough, I know. The list is abbreviated; I know there’s more, but for now, there’s a shawl.

Thanks, C-Dawg.

The devil is in the planning

I believe that to have the most fun, careful, meticulous planning must be done beforehand. There is a reason that the Minions have started calling me the “Tiny Persian Dictator”; I keep things on schedule and make those fun ideas happen.

Planning is a part of my everyday life- I have a gift for maximizing time and resources, and I get annoyed when my good planning is disrupted by someone else’s actions or thoughtlessness. That was last week. This week has gone much better, thank you.

No-blog-Rachel asked me if she could use my space for the finishing of HER Top Secret Project. She’s very pleased that she could use her Minionish resources to keep her TSP a secret from beginning to end. We determined the date that she would bring it over for finishing, and that was that.

I can’t help but be myself. My own TSP was hours away from completion, and I did the math. If it didn’t get finished and blocked on Tuesday, then it wouldn’t be finished blocking until Monday. I plowed through the finishing, hijacked my mother, and we blocked the living daylights out of the TSP until almost 11 PM.

The goal, once I confirm it with my partner in crime, is to deliver the TSP on Thursday. Photos and blog will go up following, since the recipient reads le Blog.

The remaining time-sensitive items are my father’s two hats, and my grandfather’s scarf.

I might actually make it!

Holidays and “It”

I'm not one of those nice knitters who knits for everyone. "Nice" isn't really a word I would use to describe myself, but that's a whole different story.

I went to Purlescence for movie night, and Tony read one of Stephanie Pearl-McPhee's short bits from The Yarn Harlot- "It", and I realized, that in the last seven years, I have NEVER been defeated by "It".

Maybe, it's because one year, where I thought I would knit for The Boyfriend's whole family, my mother sat down with me, and pointed out that I was killing myself over something that wouldn't matter to them. Fair enough. This whittled down the list from six knitted items, down to two. Baking is faster than knitting- and more appreciated by the non-knitters.

The first Christmas that Andrew and I were together, I was so in love (in lurve, even) with him, that I knit him a sweater. I knit him a sweater in Silky Wool on size US 3 and US 5 needles. I hunted down the missing color on the internet, and got it from an online yarn shop that was closing it's doors at the end of that week.

I finished it two days before Christmas. Ends woven in, and everything, so that he could wear it to the holiday stuff we were doing. I also didn't knit on it in front of him, which was a challenge. But I did it.

Since then, the only other Feat of Insanity was when I decided that in the two months between Stitches West and Andrew's birthday, I would knit him SIX pairs of size 12 men's socks. With colorwork. Clearly, I needed to up my meds. Those got finished, too- even though I wove in the ends right before I got to the restaurant for the birthday celebration.

For Christmas, I have usually only knitted my father a hat, to match whatever running suit Mom and Sam bought for him. This year, he asked for two. (Pictures to be posted when they're taken.) I'm also working on a Top Secret Project for _____ with _____. ______ totally kicked my butt on her half, so I have to catch up, or risk utter shame and a wicked asskicking from both _______ and _______. I bought the tools for success, so I should be able to get on that, but spinning has my heart for now. And possibly my liver and kidneys as well. But the holidays are coming, and I committed to doing this like two months ago. (My half is half done, so we're 75% there, minus the finishing.)

So, my Christmas knitting is limited to two hats, and ½ of the Top Secret Project.

Not bad for having more than 25 days to finish, right?

For Love or Money

I'm not one of those generous people who hands out hand-knitted gifts to everyone who crosses my path. I'm actually very stingy with my knitting.

According to the law of Knitting Supply & Demand, the more stuff I give away, the less people will appreciate ("Demand") it. This is even more important, because once someone wears hand knit socks, the commercial socks in the drawer lose their appeal, and the recipient of the lone pair of hand knit socks begins to ask/beg/negotiate for more.

[Except for old socks. Everyone loves those, and I gave away a drawer full (more to come in a year, I suppose) making room for all of the new socks I had knitted.]

I think it's funny when people (in a complimentary way) suggest that I sell my hand-knitted socks. They don't realize that the materials alone usually cost about $20, and easily have 16-20 hours of work in a pair. They considerately see it as a quaint little hobby that could earn me some pin money** [click the link if you don't know what pin money is].
Really? Some pin money of my VERY own? Why, how thoughtful! I think sarcastically, but I say, "Some things I do for love, and some I do for money."

D, my boss, calculated at a lunch meeting what a custom "Made by Jasmin" sweater would cost, given my hourly rate here. I laughed hysterically while he verbalized the math he was doing in his head. If only the rest of the world saw it like that.

I will admit, that at my most desperate of financial times, I have knit for pay, completing sweaters for between $150-$300. The hourly rate would make you weep bitter, bitter tears if you had to make a living this way.

It's just interesting to me. I find other people's generosity with their knitted items to be staggeringly touching, but with the limited knitting time that I have, I'm stingy.

I'll share my home, my food, even my money sometimes. But knit for you? Pffft.

Do I like you that much?

Please, can I have the pleasure of wiping for you as well?

I'm on a bunch of e-mail lists for various yarn stores across the country. So when an e-mail from one of the locals popped up, I took a look. To protect the stupid, I'm not posting the name of the yarn store (but will gladly share it if asked over e-mail), but within the text of their announcements/advertisement was the following:

"If you're stuck on your holiday project, we'll help you over the hurdle. If you're not stuck, but just tired of knitting, let us knit a few rows for you to give you a break."

OMFFSM! (Oh My Flipping Flying Spaghetti Monster) I think these poor fools have NO idea what they're in for. All of their clueless, trendy knitters showing up in hopes of getting their projects knitted FOR them!

I don't mind people who want help, but people who expect me to do their knitting for them usually find me a bit unpleasant. I don't mind when people take credit for their own work that I've helped with, but I do mind- very much- when people want to hand me their knitting to do an "expert" job, and then want to take credit for themselves. Homie don't play that, yo.

The sick thing is that we're going to get complaints that we aren't offering the same, "Please, we'll do the knitting FOR you," policy. Do these crazy people not have enough going on in their own knitterly lives that they're itching to help finish projects for the poor planners who frequent their establishment?

Nevermind the fact that people's gauge is so very different that this nice "offer" may make the project look even worse. "See this section? The one without mistakes, that's all even? A PROFESSIONAL did that." Nice. At least if it's consistant, it's easier to cover up.

That's why I start any holiday knitting in May. So that I don't have this last minute holiday panic. Maybe I can teach a class on time management...

-Santa's meanest elf

'Tis the season of the eternal question: To Knit or Not To Knit?

I'm a good knitter. I'm not going to be all braggy and say I'm the best. I'm not. There are techniques I haven't done because of lack of interest and time. There are techniques that I love (CABLES!), and things I knit to keep my sanity (socks).

It's the time of year when everyone in my circle of acquaintances asks if I'm knitting for everyone. The answer is NO. I am knitting for no one this year. If you don't count Mom's six-inch red square, at her request. But she's my mother, who gave birth to me and that counts for something. Even if she was only in labor with me for 45 minutes. (Anyone who takes more than an hour to be born is a bad child. Ha!)

There are people who feel obligated to knit for everyone. I tried that one year. I got two gifts in and decided that other gifts would be more appreciated, and wouldn't give me tendinitis. What a deal! For the cost of the yarn for each project, I could give them something that was thoughtful, and not the fruit of my needles. And not agonize over whether they would ever wear it. I think I was 16 the year I figured that out.

Knitters appreciate handknit gifts. If you're handing out lace shawls, put me at the top of your list. I like Zephyr (silk/wool blend), and I'll even buy the yarn. You bet I'm not knitting one of those. Lace like that hurts my eyes. But I LOVE to wear it, and it looks good on me. Other than that, I appreciate the beauty of handknit stuff. On other people, because it's like giving the Ice Cream Man a tub of vanilla ice cream. It's not exciting, and it's a little redundant.

I feel you, LovingHands. You want to clothe the world in your love. But if you knit for everyone, chances are, your intentions are better than your handwork. Most of your recipients won't gush over your pieces, and you'll be angry that they don't appreciate you. Sad but true.

My feelings on the matter? Make them BEG for knitted gifts. That's right. You wait, you don't knit for your friend/girlfriend/boyfriend/fiancee/friend with benefits until they BEG for it. Like so:

"Jasmin, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease make me some socks. I love handknit socks. I would do ANYTHING for a pair of your socks."

Let's face it, according to the laws of supply and demand, the more of your stuff that is in circulation, the less people will want it. Most people don't want it anyway. Not your teenaged niece- especially not your teenaged nephew, and FSM forbid you knit for you Significant Other. You know why boyfriend sweaters are the kiss of death? Because they see a sweater you made for yourself, since they're not the sweater-wearing type. They see YOUR sweater in their drawer, and girl, you might as well have moved in all your stuff that day. He sees you forcing commitment into his dresser drawers and he wants NO part in that. There you are, dumped, wanting YOUR sweater back. But it's not your sweater anymore, because you GAVE it away.

See? All this pain, when you could have given him an Xbox game, or something else x-rated instead. The moral of this post? Make them beg for that handknit love goodness.

-Santa's meanest elf.