I had to laugh at Sheila’s comment (thank you, Sheila!) Yesterday, as I was signing and had three stacks of books in front of me (sitting properly in a chair, no less, that should count for something, right?) a woman approached and asked if I were the author of (mumble, mumble, I didn’t quite catch it) and someone else explained to her that no, I was the author of “Wrapped in Comfort.” (You know, the book that was all over that table?)
Oh, well, then. And she hastily retreated. I got quite a laugh out of the ego check, while wishing I’d caught whose book it was she’d wanted me to be the author of so I could go tell them they had a fan. And if you read this, whoever you are out there, thank you; I quite enjoyed that, I hope you don’t mind my mentioning it.
Meantime, many here know that I’ve been on a quest to knit a lace scarf for every woman at my church–my “ward,” ie, congregation in Mormon-speak. I’ll never finish, because I live in an area where university students are always moving in and out, and that’s just fine with me.
But one old-time regular didn’t have hers yet. I wasn’t sure quite what to do there. She wouldn’t know about all these scarves popping up all over the place unless someone said something, and I didn’t know if… B is blind. Scarves, in our climate, are purely for decoration, and how useful is that if you can’t see it? Could it be a potential hazard, even; dunno. But I finally went out and bought some brushed baby alpaca yarn from Plymouth, figuring well, the softer the better, definitely, and something useful and warm would be the only way to go, for cooler mornings when she’s walking her guide dog. I could just picture her fingers deciphering the diamonds in the pattern, and wondered if it might convey something Braille-ish to her; I had no idea.
The needles were huge–13s–and the thing made my hands ache. It drove me nuts that it took me three weeks to finish the thing. Pick it up, do a few rows, bag it and go do something else more comfortable. Gradually it got there, though. Part of the delay I’m sure was that she had a chronic cough after a bad bout of pneumonia, and I with my severe immune problems had no desire to get too close to that.
But today I finally had it fingertip length and ready to go, so I sat down by her for a moment and explained about going out and shopping for the softest yarn I could find for her. About noticing what colors she wore most often to church, and going out and matching them. I pulled it out of my purse, and her German Shepherd was instantly on his feet and all nose, right there–he’d never met an animal like that, show him more! B, however, as soon as she found out I was talking about a scarf, shook her head, saying, emphatically, “I don’t wear scarves.” End of subject. Class dismissed.
And you know? That’s perfectly fine. But the offer, at least, had needed to be made.
Her dog, however, was, I’m sure, quite disappointed.