The commonly accepted definition for insanity is to do the same thing over and over, expecting a different result each time. That, umm, may be me right now.
See, I have some really amazing friends who have really stepped up to help me recently. They helped me pack and move, they gave me a place to stay, they helped with my child. Really stellar folks who asked for nothing in return. I have one friend in particular who has been amazing this past year – watching Ellette every week, sending me texts to check in, giving me what for when I was being an idiot, creating laughter, perspective and warmth. She’s really made of awesome, and I always ask her how I can show my gratitude. And she always asks for:
Yup, handmade, warm, knee high or higher socks. I made her one pair and she loved them so much she wore through the heels in less than a month. So, the terrible friend that I am, keep sending her images of scarves and sweaters and hats and purses. “What about this??” I ask, because I want to make her anything except for socks.
But the guilt wouldn’t leave. She’s been a much needed rock, even when we were getting frustrated with each other at times, and I couldn’t make her the only thing she wanted. I felt like a horrible person. There is absolutely no way I could refuse the big blue puppy eyes as she handed two balls of worsted weight yarn and asks “Can you make them stripe?”
Sigh. Yes. Yes, I can make them stripe. Yes, I will make them knee high or higher. Yes, for you. So, Caitlin, the start of your socks. And if you find me under a bench, busily squirreling away yarn for a nest, chattering to myself, and possibly chewing on the ends of my needles, you will know why. It is the result of love and appreciation of you, combined with my complete irritation for making socks.
Are you really sure I couldn’t make a sweater instead?