Once upon a time, I was married. Now, I am not, but I still have my needles and wool.
I started knitting again after seeing my cousin crafting a sweater for her baby. She was like the only green grass blade on a dry ground. There was noise all around. Her two other children were playing a game of Shout and Scream as they pressed a squeaky toy that seemed to excite their dog so much that he was running everywhere. Her husband was mowing the lawn with his noisy, smoky petrol-driven lawnmower. I couldn't hear myself think.
Amidst all this mind explosive chaos, my cousin was rocking in her chair, in her own private oasis of calm, knitting and smiling. I immediately excused myself and, for the second time in my life, I drove to the market to buy knitting equipment.
When men say that it is hard to understand women, I get it.
I was depressed. My car insurance was due and I was
broke. I even finished up on
monthlycarinsurance.biz so I could pay
monthly, I just couldn't afford the yearly premium. What made it worse: my husband did not notice I could knit, no matter how much I tried to impress him. I felt ignored, and depressed. So, I worked out a (stupid) plan to make him recognise and compliment me for my new found hobby.
I sewed small flower-patterned knittings on his favourite clothes. I began by putting two pink ones on the chest area of his vests and a couple of his shirts. I know I should have stopped there but I got into it so much, that I went on and on. It was only after I sewed baby blue ones on his one and only, Chelsea jersey that I realised what I had done - but it was too late, my husband's car was in the driveway. "Darling I'm home!" All I could think was, "oh s**t!"
I knew there would be trouble so I took his clothes and spent two hours in the night undoing my wrongs. Unfortunately, I forgot something.
My tricks finally caught up with me the next morning. As I heard my husband calling out my name desperately as he ran down the stairs, I reached for my equipment bag, ready to cut any patterns off. "Have you seen this?" Oops, I had missed a pattern on his jersey.
He was really angry. I thought he would understood why I had gone to such crazy levels to show him that I can knit. I promised to talk about things the next time, he apologised and we made up. However, the damage was done and our relationship nosedived.
Two years after our divorce, we became good friends. We can now look back and laugh about the time he upset me, after which I retaliated by knitting on all his things. There was even a time I crocheted some barbie looking patterns and sewed it on his motorcycle gloves.