The dude needs a hat...

How often am I asked to knit something for Dearheart? Like, NEVER. My knit-for-the-dude-in-my-life history is rather mixed: one Fair Isle vest which only took three years (he called it the Great American Sweater) and one gorgeous cabled vest that I managed to ruin when removing a stain.

So, you can imagine my surprise and delight when he (offhandedly) said one evening, "You know, when you get to a break in your busy knitting schedule, I could use a hat."

My fingertips fluttered to my collar in ladylike amazement. "Do tell."

"Well, the thicket's getting kind of thin up there," (motioning to his beautifully shaped head which has, in truth, gone rather bald) "and my ears get cold."

After he hastened to assure me that he didn't want anything fancy, just your average basic hat, I began to ponder to importance of such a request. Just a hat, you say? Bah! This man asks for NOTHING -- he is a self-winding clock, deeply intellectual, insanely busy, often preoccupied, and yet generous in helping to keep the home fires burning. And he doesn't ask for things. Just a hat? No -- this is a momentous request!

I had intended, the day before Valentine's day, to visit a Tarrytown (NY) yarn shop for supplies for a big project (visit my Other Blog at: www.enchantedKAL.blogspot.com), and thought I'd find something for the Big Brain's noggin at the same time. But delay and dismay, a random car accident (I'm fine), and an impending snowstorm forced that plan to the side. On that other hand, Katonah Yarn was open late on Tuesdays, on my way home, and the snow hadn't started yet. Twenty minutes later and a lot poorer, I ran out the door with two skeins of Blue Sky Alpaca Worsted in my hot little hands (do those sheep get royalties for their wool? inquiring minds want to know).

You see the result of my efforts above. This included several days of knit..rip..knit..rip..knit.. temper tantrum..knit.. And Dearheart's comment, "I know you'll get there, somewhere between picky and perfect." The extra yarn will be enough for a matching cap for the Little Brain, young Big-Man-On-Campus at Binghamton University. Who will lose it before the winter is over, when it will be found, examined and worn by an undeserving (but very cold) freshman. An English major. Maybe he plays the sax. And the hat will become his trademark.

And who will someday be bald, hat long gone, and wishing for something basic and warm, like the hat he found in college so many years ago. Which must have been knitted by a very nice woman with lots of love for someone very special.