gifting

Anyone who knows me probably knows how crazy I am about knitting, and now, all of a sudden, spinning. I absolutely love it. Adore the tradition, the lazy methodical click click of knitting needles as I work a simple stockinette pattern. The thing I love about knitting is the trance it can put you in. I've spent hours, sitting painfully on my bed just clicking away completely lost to the world. Like highway vision, if you've ever experienced that. Time passes and you're not really aware of it, just thinking.

And now there's spinning which is even more arcane and useless than knitting. But I love it. I can't help it. Something about that act of creation is so satisfying and addicting. It's satisfying in a way that writing a paper is not, because spinning is such a soothing activity. Yes it makes your arms ache and your fingers sore, but it also lets you revert for a moment to a way of life where speed is slightly less important than care.

To clothe someone else in warmth and beauty crafted with your own hands is to give them something entirely of yourself. I know that handmade gifts are not always welcome because they're not always stylish or even on occasion, all that attractive. When I was a kid I would much rather have had a new toy than an itchy handknit acrylic sweater from Grandma. I didn't appreciate the work and love that went into it because I'd never done it. Know I know better. It makes me feel good to give something so much myself to a friend or family member and I find myself looking for excuses to do it.

I have plans already to knit Kate Kirkland a beautiful lace shawl for her wedding. She'll never wear it, cause let's face it, where do you wear a knit lace shawl these days? But I like to think that some chilly spring night, she may pull it out of the closet, or linen chest, and think about me as she wraps up in it. Jen's going to get a little knit cardigan for graduation, something simple and cute and petite just to toss around your shoulders on a summer evening or an overly air-conditioned office. Chelsea can knit for herself, but that's not going to stop me from sending her babies little knit jumpers and hats and booties. Ditto for Emma. Allison will get a beautiful, hand-dyed, hand-spun, scarf in shades of green and blue that's just right for layering with that snazzy hippy dress and delicate blouse. Shaunna is not a knit kind of girl. She's just not. But you better believe that she's getting bottles of the first (good) beer Bob and I brew and jars of homegrown and canned veggies from my garden. I know I'm going to knit my professors thick woolen socks upon my graduation, in thanks for all their efforts for me. They may even have occasion to wear them here in Wisconsin or in Taylor's case, skiing in Colorado.

It's not an issue of wanting to burden friends with things they'll never wear. It's hoping that on occassion, that little knit thing will remind them from their closets and that they will remember that I cared enough to want to give them myself, not just fifteen minutes of shopping time.