I am here, writing to you at this time, to make a confession.
I have been unfaithful.
It just happened. I’m not even sure when. My heart strayed, and where the heart goes, the hands always follow. (We learned that in Sunday school)
So I cheated. And I did it in full sight of my love.
Poor poor Hidcote. Balanced on the back of the couch, with needles pointing at odd angles, hastily thrown, almost forgotten, had to witness my indiscretions. My unfaithfulness. My “mistress” late night knitting.
First, it started with this:
How could I? How could I, especially with that color way. But ~oh~ the pattern. The process. It sent me for flips and turns and pickups that I’ve never experienced. It was new and exciting. (shiver)
But Hidcote nodded and said that it understood. It forgave me. It knew, it had no competition. And it really didn’t. That was just a quickie, a ‘one night stand’ of knitting.
But, that was until Heirloom Doily Showed up in my ever-cheating hands:
Lace. Oh dear God It’s lace. White, pure, clean. Small, dainty. I’m so sorry Hidcote, that you had to see me knit that. I know a part of you cried. I wish I could say, that it would be the last of it. That my heart would run back to you, but I fear that that I may be knitting more, soon. (weep)
The twists, the turns, the sheer delight and naughtiness of cabling with out a cable needle. Naughty and sometimes kinky. Knits and purls and pleasure. (sigh)
Alas my Hidcote, I shall return to you. But just give me time. I’d ask for forgiveness, but repentance means a turning away, and I am not ready to turn away. Be patient with me. I know you’ll understand.
Dearest You, I had to. You understand don’t you?
Ahh, I thought so.