Free-Range Knitter Read Free

and abandon them, that some birds will eat their very own eggs if they are overcrowded, and that some overwhelmed and inexperienced hamster mothers have been known to kill and eat their own young. Ruth and I (along with any mother who has ever had a kid whose nickname was “Houdini” or “The Volcano”) should give ourselves a little pat on the back each and every day that despite being very much under stress, profoundly inexperienced, andhelplessly overcrowded, we have turned to no such maternal crimes, although I think if you got us a glass of wine or two we would all be happy to tell you that we certainly understand the urge. Instead, clever parents that we are, we took a kid like Annie, a kid who ten minutes ago was trying to shave all the fur off the cat to make her more comfortable in the summer heat, and we taught her to knit.
    The best part is that we don’t think of it as a tool we’re giving our kids to cope with their extraordinary and potent natures for the rest of their lives, and we don’t think of it as a way to help them learn to manage their intensity. No, no, my knitterly friends, as I look at wee Annabelle, who has been sitting in one place and knitting quietly for a whole seven minutes now, no, no. We think of it, now that those seven minutes have elapsed without our kids trying to take apart the stereo, paint with glue, or escape the confines of their homes, as pure, unadulterated, and mercenary self-defense.

Dear Designer #1
    Dear Designer,
    I want you to know that I’m very much enjoying your beautiful sock pattern. The panels down the sides of the legs are fetching and rather remind me of wings, if wings were stacked on top of each other, which they almost never are, but you know what I mean. I knew the moment that I saw it that this design was exactly what I was looking for and that my search for the perfect sock pattern to use with this particular yarn was over.
    I really love it. It is perfection in and of itself, and I have no idea or explanation for why I was compelled to bastardize modify personalize the design. I believe I have a disease for which I cannot be held accountable. I stood there and talked about how darn ideal this pattern was, and then despite my every intention to just haul off and knit it, I lost control of myself. It appears now that I am incapable of knitting a pattern all the way throughwithout changing something—even if, and I stress this, even if there is absolutely nothing lacking in the pattern whatsoever.
    I have modified the finest Aran sweaters in the land (they tend to be a little wide for my frame, and I don’t care for bobbles—no offense intended), and I have altered classic Norwegian colorwork sweaters that have stood the test of time and been knit millions of times by perfectly satisfied knitters who didn’t find them at all wanting. (The neck was a smidge too round. I can’t believe no one has noticed before me.)
    I tell you all this as a way of explaining that I am an equal opportunity despoiler, that I do not discriminate on the basis of reputation, talent, or design experience. Nay, I feel free to mess with any and all patterns that strike me as needing a little improvement. If it is any comfort to you at all, these improvements frequently result in a certain
je ne sais quoi
that renders the garment unwearable, so perhaps you shall have your revenge yet, when I alter my way right out of a pair of socks that can be worn on human feet. In any case, I didn’t want you to think that this was in any way personal, which it certainly was not.
    There’s nothing wrong with your design. It needed nothing done to it at all, and I didn’t want you to take my string of rampant alterations personally. It means nothing that I have changed everything, except that I am a difficult person with odd taste. Again, I beg your forgiveness. I would tell you that I’ll try to stop, but I’d be lying. And I don’t want that to be between us.
    In the spirit of that