In an effort to support the health of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, I am knitting a Notorious RBG dissent collar (her infamous bejeweled neckband she wears when she dissents) for a friend. Because for knitters, December is the season of knitting. Hats, scarves and mitts make for great gifts.
Knitting is not an inexpensive hobby. It’s also time intensive. I recently spent three months knitting gloves that were similar to the ones sold at 7-Eleven for four bucks. I knit my mom a shawl, and if I had charged her for the man hours (why not woman hours, by the way?) at minimum wage, it would’ve cost her a trazillion dollars.
If you have a knitter in your life, you know what I’m talking about. We love yarn. We love petting yarn. We make everyone around us pet our projects. Because if someone gives you something they knit, you have to know it is made with love. Lots and lots of time and love.
We also love to see people wearing things we knit. I always request a selfie when I give someone a present. We also tend to be extra sensitive. My friend knit me a hat, and after a few weeks, she quietly confronted me on the fact that she hadn’t seen me wearing it on social media.
I fall prey to that extra-sensitivity too. A while back, I saw an ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend wearing a hat I had knit for him. The angry email I sent him was a nuclear bomb. It was so sharp, it could have sliced diamonds. I wrote the meanest things. Things I would never say out loud. (Except I would.) I have to tell you, the vitriolic missive was beautifully constructed and designed to destroy. For future reference, never break up with a writer.
He didn’t deserve the things I said. Except he did, because YOU DON’T GIVE AWAY A KNIT PRESENT EVER. LET ALONE TO YOUR NEW GIRLFRIEND!
OK, turning the caps lock off and taking a big breath.
Although I regret some of the venom of the email, I like to think he knows better now. I’m an educator.
I carry my knitting everywhere I go (in a bag that says, “My Drinking Club Has a Knitting Problem”) just in case a moment of knitting breaks out. I even knit at the poker tables in casinos. This is in part strategic, because a blond woman knitting at the poker table is incredibly intimidating.
So, if you have a knitter in your life, consider yourself lucky. Also realize that with great knitwear comes great responsibility. And extra-sensitivity. And lots of swear words over things like a dropped stitch. And if you let the hat out of your sight, be prepared for a smackdown.
If you don’t have a knitter in your life, might I suggest avoiding it. Put it on your Tinder profile. “No smokers. No knitters.” It’s safer that way. Easier to avoid accidental death by needle.
You’ve been warned.
Brodi Ashton is a New York Times best-selling author who lives in the Salt Lake City area. She’s also an occasional columnist for The Salt Lake Tribune.
