So I’m back from my holiday travels (photos now posted, btw). It’s good to be back at my desk with a mug of tea. Santa was good to us. The toys are assembled, batteries installed. I’ve got a stack of new sci-fi and fantasy to read and watch. (The Collector’s Edition of Serenity is sitting right here next to my desk. Party at Shannon’s house, anyone?) I got more Christmas cookies and more ballet gear. Boy, do those ever go together... And I’m pretty set for a year’s worth of knitting adventures.
And speaking of knitting adventures, I present to you the Great Scarf Project of Christmas 2008: 
I knitted or crocheted 6 scarves for my family, put them in a basket, and let them fight over it. They didn’t really get the fighting over them part. That’s okay. Family that don’t fight at Christmas are not a problem. Far from it. The funny this is, every one of them picked the one scarf I envisioned for them. Cool, huh?
I won’t bore you with the techincal specifications of each one. If you know how to use a computer and you know how to use a pair of needles, then you already Ravel, so you can check out my Ravelry project pages for more info (Left to right: The First Knit Scarf, The Mesquite Scarf, The Blitzen Scarf, Dad’s Alpaca Scarf, The Big Sur Scarf, and The Local Scarf.) If you know how to use a computer and you know how to use a pair of needles and your not a Ravelry member, what the hell is wrong with you? There is no excuse for that kind of behavior. Go get an account.
I started these in May and have been working steadily on them across the months. I’ve never had so much fun making Christmas presents before and that’s something that I do a lot of. I’ve sewn and glued and pasted all kinds of stuff over the years, but there’s something about knitting in particular. These scarves followed me around everywhere. They went with me in the car, on jobs, on trips. They kept my lap warm in waiting rooms and doctor’s offices. My cousin’s scarf in particular saw me through the tumultuous seasons 2 and 3 of Buffy. There are tears soaked into that one; laugh if you must. They went to knitting groups, sat with me at the dinner table, on the couch, saw me through late nights and wee hours of the morning when Shawn was out of town. They’ve been my friends. The oils from my hands are soaked into the fibers of each. They’re me. In sheep form. It’s amazing to give that to someone you love. And I love all of these funny people.
