My poor Lumberjack-y companion. We've been married for a year and change, and together for over four, and still he is woefully short on knitted things. I mean, that's supposed to be the advantage of entering a legally binding commitment with a knitter, right? You might have to put up with skeins of yarn jumping out of unexpected cabinets like tribbles, but in return, they keep you decked out in sweet, sweet woolens. (It's a pretty fair trade, if you ask me.)
Until recently, I have been positively remiss in my duties as Knitter on Call. But what's this? Wham, bam, pair of custom-made socks? Hello, new bargaining chip!
Uh, Cory, why is there a stack of pink laceweight on top of my video games?
Shhhh... I knit you socks, remember?
Har. I'm the worst.
(Details on Ravelry here.)