Every family has one. You know the one I mean. The crazy aunt who gives the weird gifts. The one who strikes fear in the hearts of her nieces and nephews because they know the next package could contain the worst gift know to man. (Be honest, you just had a flashback, didn’t you?)
As much as it pains me to say it, I fear I have slipped into that role. Even worse, I am the crazy aunt who knits.
It gives me great satisfaction to give carefully chosen and lovingly created gifts. Unfortunately, the guys at my house aren’t big yarn fans. I’ve made a few scarves, hats, and socks for them in the past but this year they didn’t have a single request so I took out my creative frustrations on my dear, sweet nieces. (Sorry gals.)
Please understand I had the best intentions and I only made items I would wear myself. (You should know I am 43 years old and they are not.) As I carefully wrapped each exquisite masterpiece, that nagging little voice got louder and louder until there was no denying what it was trying to convey. “I AM that aunt.”
If you get a cowl, slouch hat, or scarf from me in the future rest assured the pattern was chosen for you, the color is one I think makes you look positively radiant, and the yarn is one that feels like bliss as it slides through my fingers and off the knitting needles. Please remember this and know I will still love you as you take it directly to Goodwill. It really is okay. Really.