photo taken in 2006, while we were on vacation
So, picture this: it's 1996. I'm in grade 11. I've just moved to a new high school in mid-term where I know approximately 1-1/2 people (the half-person is because I'm related to a girl in grade 10, but I don't really know her... at least not well enough to talk to her in the hallway in front of all her friends). First day at my new school. First class of the day. Biology. I walk in.
The only seat left is riiiiight in front of the teacher's desk. The Seat of Honour. The one where you go to sit if you're either a Badass (and you're in trouble) or a total Suckup. I'm aiming for Badass, as I sit down (pretending like I intended to sit there all along).
The teacher starts talking and my eyes glaze over (not because I hate science - I'm a total geek - but because the teacher who had been teaching at my old school was awesome and I'd already learned all of this material, studied it and aced the test a month before).
At the end of class, this guy walks past my desk and says hi. To me. The new kid sitting in the dunce chair. Hmmm. Something must be wrong with him, I decide. Doesn't he know the Code?
He's built like a football player, he's got shaggy hair and awful wire-rimmed glasses. He's wearing a light blue button-down oxford shirt and pleated khakis. With an ironed crease down the front, for crying out loud.
And lo and behold, he's wearing the most ginormous pair of white cross-trainers I've ever seen. I didn't even know they made shoes in that size.
Nerd. I take a quick peek to see if he's wearing a pocket protector.
I roll my eyes at him and walk away, praying that he doesn't follow me.
Fast forward 15 years. I am perusing a borrowed copy of Men's Knits at home. At first glance, the patterns in the book didn't really grab me, but I was really taken with the photography, so I had signed it out of the library anyway. I was looking them over more thoroughly at home and showed the hubby a few of the items, asking if he thought they were nice. Indeed, he snatched the book out of my hand and started picking out his favourites. Many of them were sweaters, which confused me, because he is a walking furnace and doesn't need sweaters. We bought a few for him at the beginning of the winter and all I heard from him all winter was how hot it was at work and how he'd been tempted to strip down to his undershirt a time or two in order to cool down.
So, why would I knit you a sweater (that was in fact the point of this whole exercise: find a suitable knitty type of garment to make for my beloved... one that he would actually wear, that is), I asked. You'll just take it off the minute you get to work and then you'll leave it lying around (do I know him or what?). Plus, I added, you're not fond of wool and there's no way I'm knitting a size XL sweater in cotton. I'll kill you out of frustration before I get to the second sleeve.
That's when he got to the page with the argyle vest. His breath caught. He got stars in his eyes. He practically swooned.
I saw the naked lust on his face and my mind harked back to that fateful day in October of 1996. Apparently, once a nerd, always a nerd.
I've been training him on how to dress like a normal person for 15 years. He's found and fallen in love with a knitted garment that I can knit him that isn't going to take me a decade to finish. I think I can work with this. So, this is what it's going to look like:
Now all that's left is for me to knit it. And buy him a matching button-down shirt. And pray that he doesn't find those stupid cross-trainers. Or a pocket protector.