Friday, April 09, 2010


I am easily influenced. Not in the usual ways, mind you. As a teen, I just said no to drugs, much to several friends' chagrin. I don't smoke, don't drink, eschew carbonated beverages and limit my caffeine intake to whatever is in chocolate (preferably dark, just in case, you know, you're thinking of enabling me). I avoid much pop culture by choice, which is one of the reasons we don't have TV in our home. In short, I like to do my own thing.

Except when it comes to knitting.

I just hopped over to the Yarn Harlot's blog and read this post. It's about legwarmers. Deep green, cabled legwarmers that she knitted for her sister. In the obligatory blog photo, the legwarmers are shown on legs (Stephanie's sister's, one guesses) clad in skinny, dark-blue jeans that end in the most violet pair of cowboy boots I've ever laid eyes on.

Now, I am a Yankee through and through, a city kid whose only use for cowboy boots would be to pry them off a sexy young cowboy for my own nefarious purposes. And I loathe the color green. So why is it that I suddenly want, no need, a pair of purple, high-heeled cowboy boots and some dark green leg warmers? How can I even envision myself wearing them like the skinny legs in the photo, leg warmers over the outside of the jeans and covering all but the heel and toe of the boot, purple leather barely peeking from beneath dark green cabling? What am I, crazy?

I get this way whenever I see good knitting. I want to make shawls that I will rarely wear. I desire sweaters that will neither fit well nor look good on me. I yearn for knitted skirts that will make me resemble an overstuffed pork product, sexy tanks that will spotlight my upper-arm deficiencies, and accessories either many years too young or too old for me. In short, my knitting eye, while able to recognize and appreciate great knitting when it sees it, is completely and utterly deluded about what an appropriate knit for me would be.

No matter. It's spring, the time of year to throw caution to the wind and start new things. Maybe high-heeled cowboy boots will be just the thing to spice up my staid wardrobe. Maybe I'll wear green cabled leggings and somehow manage to avoid embarrassing flashbacks to my '80s youth.

But maybe I'd better pour myself a good, stiff drink first.

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