I make eye contact with The Girlfriend when she speaks to me. I marvel at her nut butters, goat cheeses, and handcrafted laundry detergent made from herbs and borax. I even sit down on the back porch with her and let her show me how to turn wool into felt, while she discusses my knitting Dad a beret for Father’s Day. Little white iPod wires dangle over my shoulders, at the ready, but I try my best to be polite and not stick them in my ears. Our back-and-forth goes: The Girlfriend: He’s getting a little thin on top, don’t you think? Me: Um. Yeah. A little. The Girlfriend: Maybe we can surprise him with a matching scarf. Me: I don’t knit. The Girlfriend: What a shame! I’m a Waldorf girl, you know. Learned to finger knit first. Want me to show you? Me: Um. The Girlfriend: You know, my brother isn’t much of a fan of the handwork either, but boy, can he whittle!
