I’ve dreaded telling my family that I am (gasp) a knitter.
You see, my family has always thought I was…odd. My nana referred to me once as a “throwback,” which is a nice, nana-fied way of saying old-fashioned.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for women’s rights. I just enjoy things like cooking, cleaning, gardening-okay, I guess I am old-fashioned. Fine.

I avoided telling them for months, because I knew what their reaction would be. Finally, I had no choice. You see, I had made myself a hat. A very nice hat, out of a bright yellow Malabrigo. Except I don’t like (or look good in) yellow. And I have a larger-than-average head, so that lovely, soft hat just did NOT fit.

My sister, on the other hand, has a small head, and looks lovely in yellow. I knew what I had to do.

Before a Sunday dinner, I casually said “Oh, by the way, I knitted a hat that’s too small. Youngest Sister, would you like it?”

The response that they gave me wouldn’t have been out of place, say, had I informed them that I had decided to become an axe-murderer.

“You…oh. What?!” Utter shock. Complete silence.

Which shortly (especially with the menfolk) gave way to barely-concealed condescention.

“You know you can buy hats/gloves/socks/etc. at Wal-Mart for like, a dollar?”
I will *never* stop hating that line. Yes, I could. I could also buy McDonalds every night for dinner, but I don’t want to. Plus, I don’t make fun of your $500 golf driver, X-box, or whatever else you while away free time with.

After awhile, though, they decided to accept it. Mom, an accomplished seamstress, gave the thumbs-up. Youngest Sister (in her infinite wisdom) declared the hat “cool.” Brother decided he too wants a hat.

The rest of them still don’t quite get it-but that’s okay: next week the temperatures are supposed to be somewhere around arctic frost, and guess who will be the toasty one then?

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