A perfect plan
And last, but not least, the sweater / bolero / "Perfect Shrug" I knitted this winter. This was my first pattern. I loved the finished garment, but it has been passed along to my Oma. She lives in a nursing home in Montana, and is wheelchair-bound due to advanced MS, so finding clothes that are comfortable to wear in the chair, and that will keep her warm in the too-cold nursing home has been difficult for her. She adores it.
The pattern for the above garment (whatever it's called) can be found here.
My Oma is a great lady. She's also a needlecrafter. She taught my mother to crochet, and my mother taught me. But my mother was never quite able to get the hang of knitting.
When I taught myself to knit last year, my mother was jealous, so for Christmas I gave her a "learn to knit" kit. It included a skein of Brown Sheep Co. Burly Spun in a color she loved, a pair of hand-made (by me) size 13 (or so) hardwood needles and some hand-made (also by me) stitch markers, along with the promise I'd teach her to knit. It worked. She's knitting up a storm now.
When we spoke to my Oma at Christmas, I got to talk to her about knitting. She grew up in Germany, during the Nazi era. She "always had to make useful things" and now she's not able to knit at all. She was glad we were keeping alive an old craft. I am too. One thing that I will always remember about that conversation is when she spoke to me about socks. She asked if I'd worked a heel yet, and when she found out I'd learned short-row heel turning, she said, "Oh good. The heel's the only interesting part of a sock." I still laugh out loud whenever I think of it, and you know, it's true. That's why I have one sock without a mate.