From the comments section of the previous post, it looks as though Jon’s Yarn Widower booth at Rhinebeck next year would be crammed full of our disinterested Others. He decided he wanted a dart board in there, too. I think it would be good of there was a skein of yarn attached to the center to give them something they hated to aim at. Sometimes he looks at my knitting bag with such despair. Last night I was working on the second sleeve of his sweater and he was lolling around his side of the sofa, poking me with his feet and looking coy, almost coquettish. I finally said ¢â‚¬ËœWhat?! Is there something I can do for you? Something you need?” and he said “Acknowledge meeeeee!” Instantly, I felt guilty. Was my knitting getting in the way of our relationship? Was I purling a rift between us? Would I long for these lost moments with him on my death bed? I turned to him my husband, my beloved partner with whom I share me very soul and said “You exist, I see you.” and went back to the task at hand. Sleeves don’t knit themselves, you know.