The Things We Do for Love
I came home last Friday night to find the Prince sitting in front of his computer cursing it.
"What's wrong, dear?" I asked.
"I'm trying to order ball game tickets and I'm having trouble."
"Ball game tickets? The Sox are so out of the running this year you can't possibly want to go to a game."
"Not the Sox, the Cubs," he said.
"The Cubs? Isn't that sacrilege? Aren't you a dyed in the wool Sox fan?"
"I go where the action is," he told me.
I thought, "Uh oh, who's he going with? I'm not going to ask."
The weekend passed and around dinner time on Sunday, the Prince came into the kitchen with an "I've just had an epiphany" look on his face.
"I totally forgot until just now that you're off tomorrow!"
"You can go to the Cubs game with me."
"Oh, I couldn't possibly. It's laundry day. Take a friend, dear."
"I don't have any friends that can go. Scott's got a doctor's appointment, Chuck is playing golf, and I haven't even seen Mark to ask him."
"Well," I said, "when you ordered the tickets, who were you planning on going with?"
"I didn't really have a plan; I thought someone would be available to go with."
"Hmm," I thought, "that's just how we ended up at Kankakee State Park for a picnic on the 4th of July with only an empty cooler, no blanket, no fishing poles or any other way to amuse ourselves."
"No plan? Again, dear?" I said.
"Go with me. It will be fun. We'll take the train and make a day of it."
"There's laundry to be done."
"I'll do the laundry."
"Deal. I'll go, but I'm bringing my knitting."
"I wouldn't have it any other way."
So we set off on our trek from the South Side to the Other Side on Monday morning. Had a nice lunch at Heaven on Seven, got into the Park and found the nosebleed seats we would call home for the next few, long hours.
Now, I brought two little projects with me to knit. My "can't stop making 'em even when I try" project, the latest square from the Great American Afghan. Isn't it something?
And I brought socks...
I decided that I couldn't work on my square because we were so high up and the force of gravity was probably so great that if I put my book in my lap to follow the chart, it would go flying into left field. And the last thing Alfonso Soriano needed was my Great American Aran Afghan book sailing into his head.
So I pulled out the socks.
"What the hell is that?" the Prince asked me incredulously.
"It's a sock."
"It's gigantic! It's grotesque. Who is it for?"
"It's the first of a pair for you. Remember, I started a pair for you?"
"That was a long time ago. That sock's too big; it will never fit me."
"We measured your foot, which by the way, was a whopping 12 inches. It was a long time ago that I started this sock, but I told you a 12 inch sock is a BIG sock and since I've always got other things to knit, your socks would take a while."
"I don't remember the yarn!"
"I picked the yarn based on what you told me. I wanted to make you a pair of black or green or cammo socks and you told me that that was boring and you wanted blue or purple or some other non-black color. Hence the purple and grey variagated yarn I'm knitting with."
"They're never going to fit."
"That's what the women in my sock class said. They said, 'my oh my, that's a big sock.'"
"You showed that thing to people in a class!"
"Well, sure I did. I used it as a sample. By the way, this sock is exactly 12 inches and therefore it will fit! Take off your shoe."
"I am not taking off my shoe in the middle of a baseball game," the Prince hissed.
"Take off your shoe and I'll prove to you that this giant sock will, in fact, fit."
"I am not taking off my shoe!"
"Okay then, stick your foot up here and we'll measure the sock against your shoe."
"I am NOT sticking my foot in your lap at a Cub's game to see if a gigantic purple sock is going to fit! I'm not doing it!"
"I'm telling you this sock will fit and since it's done toe up, when you calm down, you can try it on while it's still on the needles."
"I AM NOT PUTTING MY FOOT IN THAT SOCK WITH THOSE TINY LITTLE STICKS STILL IN IT!"
We watched the game in silence for a while; my needles purred.
"Put that thing away," the Prince said.
"Because it's embarassing. It's a gigantic sock; it's unnatural."
"No one knows it's for you. No one even knows it's a sock."
"Pleeease, put that thing away.""Geez, so sensitive! After a lifetime, you should know what they say about men with big feet and big hands!"
The daggers that shot from his eyes as he turned to hush me really hurt.
"Ouch! Big socks, big gloves, my Prince! By the way, unless you start hopping on one foot instead of walking, you'll never have to wear it. Oh no, Mister, there will never be two."
See, it's exactly 12 inches.
Here's the sock compared to a sock the Prince wears all the time. Perfect match except that the ugly white one is filthy. I know, I know, never make him another sock and never, ever let him do the laundry again. Harrumph!