A couple months ago I decided to knit a sweater. I had been avoiding this for a while because every time I looked at a sweater pattern it was like "Hello WOULD YOU LIKE TO DO A LOT OF MATHHHH" and that terrified me, so then I'd just make another scarf or hat.
Then I took on The Scarf That Must Not Be Named, and that thing was so complicated to complete that frankly I probably now have what it takes to solve COVID-19 by tomorrow (but I won't, because busy with TV). So I thought I could maybe take on a sweater.
I found a pattern and showed it to Skylar. It has different stitch counts based on obesity levels and when I measured Skylar he was so small that I actually had to manually alter the pattern because it didn't contemplate someone of his size.
Speaking of, I am growing into my chair during social distancing. It's been four weeks and having zero access to a gym in addition to not even walking around an office, things are getting scary here. We've tried to create a fitness center in our basement using some elastic bands Skylar bought on day one of quarantine but so far the only thing they've done is nearly kill us.
Last week I heard a loud crash and then desperate moaning coming from the basement and I rushed down there assuming it was affairs but instead it was just Skylar and a pull-up bar that he had wrapped elastic bands around and then somehow sling-shot into his abdomen. I nearly became a widow that day, which is unfortunate because his life insurance policy sucks and I'm not even sure if I'm listed as the beneficiary [makes a note to check on that].
Anyway, he's fine. He's more than fine, in fact. Because while you and I have gained the weight of a thousand Titanics, he marched into the living room on Thursday and announced "I've lost 10 pounds somehow" like he was a SlimFast Commercial. Don't worry. I told him to shut up. We have a very healthy relationship.
This morning I was trying to write and he wouldn't stop talking to me so finally I locked him out of the room I've turned into my quarantine office. A few minutes later I heard him standing on the other side of the door humbly singing "do you want to build a snowmaaaan?"
The point is, I decided to make that man who now weighs 41 pounds and apparently knows all of the lyrics to Frozen songs a sweater using a pattern meant for grown obese men.
It was very difficult because the pattern was like "make sleeves and then make a front and back and then sew them together and then audit the taxes of a Fortune 500 company and then place your first born on an altar during a full-moon on a Leap Day while drenched in the blood of an ox's enemy" and do you know how hard it is to find 19th century pioneer blood during a pandemic?
Anyway, I finished the sweater. Don't look too closely because then you might not want to praise me.
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I made him pose in various places around the house and the above photo is the only one he said I was allowed to share because apparently he hated all of these:
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So I promised not to post them because I respect his 41-pound body. Sorry not sorry my husband is so cute.
And now, please enjoy a story from Jolyn.
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This time in Strangerville, Eli steals from children, Meg looks hot on Zoom, and Jolyn takes the Strangerville Live stage to explain why she’s hiding from her neighbors.
Story:Gas Leak, by Jolyn Metro
Production by Eli McCann & Meg Walter
~It Just Gets Stranger