Tata: I would like to spend some part of our day in bed, discussing economics through finger puppets like normal people do.
Pete: Would you like some more coffee?
Tata: I would. What?
Pete: Normal people do not discuss economics with finger puppets.
Tata: You’re probably right. The puppets might’ve studied the humanities.
Pete: We could take a nap after we come back from the grocery store.
Tata: That’s a pleasant theory but we’re always too tired to sleep after all the label-reading and line-moshing.
Pete: What made you think of what normal people might do?
Tata: I don’t know. The finger puppets looked bored.
Recently, my friend’s ex-wife asked me to knit a baby blanket. The scenario: we had a falling out years ago that involved chocolate body paint and all the booze half a town could drink, but though we’re terrible human beings we’re both interested in do-goodery. She joined a group of knitters who turn out blankets for babies born in the hospitals in town and asked me to join her or donate baby blankets. I balked. Sure, a lot of babies born in the city’s hospitals have very little, but I disliked being unable to determine actual need; plus: I am a terrible knitter. I decided not to do it, but the request stayed with me. I wondered if women’s shelters would welcome this sort of gesture or if it would be counterproductive. Sometimes you can’t tell from the outside of a situation what would be helpful and what would be a disaster. As I was wondering this, a project at work asked us to create a holiday food drive, including presents for two families having a very tough year. Between these two families, there are three babies. With the friend’s ex-wife’s request still rankling my nerves, I had to admit to myself these were babies in need and I had no excuses. I bought yarn a few days ago and started knitting. The food drive ends on 1 December, so there will be time to knit exactly one blanket, but that’s also enough time to get over myself. I’m a terrible knitter and I’m freaking over it!