I recently knit up a pair of bears and two pairs of booties in honor of two of my good high school friends' simultaneous pregnancies.
Some people call this winter. I call it knitting season: the sun sets before dinner time and it's cold out so you huddle in front of the television watching art films (and junk films) and crime-solving television dramas while sipping mulled cider and knitting your fingers raw. (At least, that's what I do.)
Though I finished the bears and the booties long ago, I hadn't packed them up for mail travel yet, mostly since the bears have been galavanting around Washington exploring (above they're at Dungeness Spit, climbing the driftwood; below, they're showing off the scenery at Deception Pass).
I finally cornered them last night and got them to hold still long enough to be wrapped for travel. I convinced them that there would be even more sites to see and places to explore in their new respective homes. I do worry that they'll miss each other: one flew to Eugene, Oregon while the other headed off to Minneapolis. Alas, they'll each have their own baby to look after, and with time, they won't even remember their carefree days of bachelor-hood.