52 Things #1: The Truth About My Wife’s Yarn Habit

I felt that since my wife is the one who decided on these topics that she deserves the honor of being the subject of the first one I complete. She chose that I talk about her yarn habit and, therefore, I must.

Is this a slippery slope? To discuss my feelings about my wife’s hobby? That which occupies at least 98% of her time? The one activity she does while doing everything else? She purls while sautéing onions and manages an intarsia while shaving her legs. It’s disturbing.

I certainly understand obsession. I’ve had two hour conversations about the use of a triangle in “God Only Knows.” A note that 90% of people never even notice. On a daily basis I leave my house dressed in less than 1/8 inch of body hugging lycra so that I can spend a few hours on a bike saddle so small that most people would view it as a torture device.

Yes, I’d like to have eye contact when we talk and it would be nice to sit next to someone who isn’t holding something that could be used to kill me at any moment, but I can deal with that.

In the past few years I’ve fed that habit. Just this past Christmas I spent an obscene amount of money on hand dyed yarn that comes from the fleece of virgin llamas raised on a Buddhist farm, that only ate organic food and were kissed on the cheeks by cherubs on a daily basis. I fully support her habit.

It’s the websites that freak me out.

After watching her in her active communities I can’t help but think that knitting is what shy people do if they want to be exhibitionists but don’t like nudity. It’s fiber porn.

It’s all about the boobs.

All of these women are fantastic knitters. They truly create wonderful pieces. And they photograph their chests to share with everyone. They post the photos for other women to admire with titles like, “Double Twisted Cable” or “Cashmere Cardigan”. They are proud of their work and they are willing to share their secrets with one another. They claim they are showing of the fruits of their labor not the fruits that men savor.

But if that’s the case, what’s the deal with thrusting out one hip and striking a seductive, sexy stance? What’s with the come hither body language?

My wife swears that it’s all about the sweater, not the meat. But when she’s in the kitchen scrolling through pages of women’s chests I can only see boobs.

Oh, and she posts these photos too. And they are awesome. I love it when she takes those photos. And I’m always thankful when, after staring at it for ten minutes, wondering how I can print it out and carry it in my wallet, she points out the amazing sweater that I’m supposed to be looking at.

I’m married to a hottie knitter. I think I’m okay with that.

So what do I think of her habit? I love it. I support it. But I never realized it would lead to Purls Gone Wild.