Susan recently posted about that sinking kicked-in-the-gut feeling that you get when the recipient of your handknit or handcrafted gift doesn't get it. You've gone to a whole lot of work, put a lot of love into choosing the design or pattern, perhaps spent a lot of money, and it's something that you, as the giver, truly love and feel proud about giving, but you are met with a derisive, "Oh. You made this?"
One part of the phenomenon of which she speaks, I believe, is the ignorance of people who think that if it's homemade, it's cheap or that you've tried to save money by making something for them, and they feel slighted somehow. I have family members and friends like that. In fact, I will admit that I have even been guilty of it in the past. Somebody knitted me a baby bunting and gave it to me as a shower gift when I had my daughter, and I thought, "Oh. You made this?" and never put it on my daughter, except maybe once. I recently pulled that item out of storage, and now that I am a knitter, I see the amount of good work and craftsmanship put into it. But I was very young then, and it was the '80s, the era of "me, me, me," and too close on the heels of my less-than-wealthy childhood and the '70s and all that hideous orange and avocado acrylic, when "homemade" meant all those things I mentioned above. "Oh, you're on a budget, and/or you're trying to get out of this on the cheap."
So imagine my excitement right now: I went to get my hair cut yesterday, and I brought my brown felted bag with the brooch. My hairdresser had the look. The longing, almost tearful look of, "I covet that bag so much I am drooling right here and now. I want one of those, and I literally canNOT keep my eyes off it. I love those colors. I would pee my pants if you gave me one of those, but I would never dream that you would ever do such a thing for me."
Guess what my hairdresser is getting for Christmas.
The security system is set against you burglars out there, and we're leaving this afternoon for Parents' Weekend at a college in Upstate New York. We have a very full weekend of activities planned -- breakfasts and dinners we're invited to, a showing of a mockumentary on the school done by one of our daughter's friends who hopes to bring it to Sundance, a performance by an a capella group, The Hamiltones, (or is it the Buffers? Can't remember, but they're terrific!) and on and on. And we've been informed by our daughter that her boyfriend's parents can't make it, so we have been designated his surrogate parents for the weekend. What fun! We are in such demand. This is funny -- the same thing used to happen at her high school. We were everybody's parents. Kids would shout out, "Mom! Dad!" and run up and give us big hugs when they'd see us coming to campus. We had to make the rounds and see all their art exhibits or watch their performances or readings. And as has been so ironically established, I hate kids ;-)
Thank goodness the weather is good so we can go straight over the Adirondacks and save an hour or more off our journey. I just hope the light holds out so I can get some good knitting in. Hopefully there will be good progress to report on Rogue when I return. In case I get my fill of, or get pissed off at, Rogue, I'm also going to bring along Kirstin, the sweater that has been woefully ignored since before Rhinebeck. (Kirstin is from the book "Hot Knits" by Melissa Leapman.) I'll pack the makings for my pair of charity thrummed mittens, too, just in case. One never knows what project might be "the right one" at any given moment.
A HALLOWEEN WEEKEND GIFT FOR YOU:
Cassie did this to me, so I figure I should do it to you -- put this song in your mind for the rest of the day.
Raven hair and ruby lips
sparks fly from her finger tips
Echoed voices in the night
she's a restless spirit on an endless flight
wooo hooo witchy woman, see how
high she flies
woo hoo witchy woman she got
the moon in her eye
She held me spellbound in the night
dancing shadows and firelight
crazy laughter in another
room and she drove herself to madness
with a silver spoon
woo hoo witchy woman see how high she flies
woo hoo witchy woman she got the moon in her eye
Well I know you want a lover,
let me tell your brother, she's been sleeping
in the Devil's bed.
And there's some rumors going round
she can rock you in the nighttime
'til your skin turns red
woo hoo witchy woman
see how high she flies
woo hoo witchy woman
she got the moon in her eye