3.15.2017

how much do you love me...

...is universally understood to be followed by some outrageous request.

me: how much do you love me?
him: depends... how do you want me to quantify it?

number of steps...? which means getting something from another room.

number of blocks...? which means getting something from outside.

number of balls...? which usually ends with the purchase of more yarn. yes, my stash already exceeds life-expectancy... but i may decide to live even longer than that.

this time around, i had a brand new request.

me: you know that sweater i made for you? the one i said you can't wear till i take some photos for my project page?
him: yes....?
me: well, i want to take those photos now... outside!

at which point, we both turn to look at the hip-high snow on the other side of the glass doors.

him: i thought you wanted me to shave and cut my hair so i look extra-sexy for that.
me: yeh... we don't have time for all of that.
____________________

the pattern is the Fireside Pullover by Jane Richmond.



i pretty much fell in love with it at first sight. problem was, i just could not see it being flattering on my body [and, yes... the pattern is designed for us girls]. it is knitted in a bulky yarn, and features a deep shawl collar and a whole lot of ribbing across the shoulders and upper torso. in my mind, that is a recipe for looking like a cross between a linebacker and one of the Dwarves from the Lord of the Rings movies. then the light-bulb went off.



take away the waist shaping, and this is the perfect guy sweater.



put this on, and you instantly look like you are about to chop down a tree... with an axe carved from the skull of a dragon... that you slayed with your bare hands! seriously, who needs a coat in a snowstorm?!?


i am having eighties shoulder-pad-abuse flashbacks.



i suggested adding a button or two to the collar, but he prefers it open like this.



someone may have watched The Wrath of Khan a few too many times.



i get rid of a bit of stash, and he gets one more sweater, which—some may argue—is a pretty awesome measure of love.