Happy Birthday, John My John

I know of many knitters who just don't have the support of their spouses, or boyfriends, or girlfriends. It's like the most important person in a knitter's life, if that person is a non-knitter, he can't possibly understand why all the extra money goes to buying yarn (that might never be used) and needles (that might be duplicates). So I'm just lucky. Now, John has his Legos, and I think that's why he's so tolerant of the growing number of skeins. He knows that if he comments on the fiber, I'm going to be sorely temped to comment on the bins and bins and bins of plastic. But I think it's more than that. I think John is genuinely happy that I've got a hobby that I'm good at, and there are even times when he's taken an interest, moreso than maybe he needs to.

Also, when he came home and I was knitting with plastic grocery bags, he didn't make fun of me.

I knew John really "got it" when we had the following conversation. I was holding a skein of grey Wool Ease at the time, and told him he had to leave.

"I'm making you something," I said. "You have to go away. It's a surprise."

He looked at me. He looked at the Wool Ease, and made sort of a skeptical face, and said, "You're making me something? With that crappy yarn?"




He knew it was crappy yarn?!? That meant he'd been paying attention all those times I went on and on and on about the merits of spending good, hard-earned money on fiber. He understood. Also, he liked his brontosaurus. And when I made her a scarf, he said it would DEFINITELY help her survive the Ice Age. We, ok I, named her Charlotte Bronte. And once John found out what I was making, he encouraged me to buy some Red Heart to finish off the top of her head, since I ran out of Wool Ease. Let me say that again. He encouraged me to buy Red Heart.

There are other reasons that I love John.

He torments the cats. Picks them up when they don't want to be picked up. Chases them. Pretends to eat them. And when it's all over, lets them groom him.



He makes breakfast. Sometimes ebelskiver. Always coffee.



He understood when I burned the soup two nights ago...because I put it on the stove, went to the basement to get something, and got lost in my yarn stash. I was organizing it, see, and looking at it, and putting things in bins. It was fascinating. So much so that I forgot about the soup on the stove...for long enough for the soup to burn to a crust on the bottom of the pot.

Also, he cleaned the pot.

A week ago, John asked me if I would make him a hat "for the garage". He wanted a black knit hat "with a plus on top" that he could wear while working on the bikes. He wanted it to be washable. I could make it out of Wool Ease and he wouldn't call it crappy yarn. I told him that a black hat would be boring to knit, so he picked out a motif from Barbara Walker's mosaic knitting charts (book 4, #24). That "plus on top" I figured out meant that he wanted the decreases to be like a nordic ski hat. Oh. And he wanted a tassel on a cord. 3 inches of cord. 3 inches of tassel.

Just a simple hat for the garage. A simple, hand-knit hat for the garage. His only other request was that I have fun making it, which I did.



My favorite part of this moment? Abby was looking at that tassel like it was a live, juicy mouse. John didn't even know it was going on. John is already designing "Garage Hat 2.0". Slightly taller, slightly wider, and with a more traditional edge.

John turns 33 today, which means that the Lego party I threw for him was three years ago. It means that he'll never again be an age where he is n to the 5th power for any integer n. But 33 is good. 33 is as close as a number can get to being prime without actually being prime. I asked what he wanted for his birthday, and he said, "Peg board and lumber." He can have anything he wants for dinner and dessert, and he asked for pizza, and pumpkin pie.

I love you, John. Happy birthday.



May you remember, each day, to take a moment to find your peace.