Knitting for charity? Screw that.

I would like you all to know that after (wait. I have to count on my fingers for this) fourteen years of knitting, I have finally exhausted the number of hats, mittens, scarves, shawls, sweaters, and socks the house can hold. And my friends refuse to accept more gifts of the knitted kind.

I know what you’re saying. “Why, Jane! You didn’t mention knitting for charity!” Yes, indeed; you are a discerning reader as well as a constant one. I have not contributed my time and effort towards charitable concerns. I would far, far rather send money. It’s a sad sad thing, because (let us be honest) I don’t have money to send.

This does not win friends at Knit Night. It’s, like, a knitterly duty to make things for other people. Especially babies. Especially premature babies.

While I do not mean to suggest that charity-knitting is unworthy, I’ve gotta say – my feminist knee jerks reflexively at this. But fear not! This is not a post about women’s role as the Angel In The House and the good ol’ Victorian assumption that we will spend our freaking lives embiggening other people at our own time, expense, and (often) sanity.

… but, please: before you go all out sending nasty comments and death-threats: listen.

I have mended my ways. I have found my inner Marmee. I too am happily spending this evening knitting – on teeny-tiny needles with mercerized cotton thread – a long long long white bandage, which will be mailed to a charitable organization, who will give it to a leper to wrap around her or his gangrenous limbs.

How Victorian of me.

(shown: 1,000 stitches, or about 4 inches … Only 11,000 to go.)

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