OK, the afghan guy didn't snap out of it, and realize he's behaving badly, but I just finished doing the finishing on an UFO (unfinished fiber object, in this case a Donnegal tweed drop shoulder pullover in autumn gold tweed wool) for a lady who is going through cancer treatments... She not only paid me my going rate, she was hugely thankful that this sweater, a source of guilt (It needed a collar, and the pieces sewn together) is finally put together and wearable.
I'm doing the same thing for a gal who has some...well how to say. She's slow... a couple of the connections upstairs aren't working quite properly, but she's REALLY REALLY sweet. Her sweater is based on a wrap cardigan and basically at this point, it is 5 missmatched shapes of a novelty yarn. (She has a little trouble with patterns). I am going to check for any dropped stitches, fix any holes, and then use the mass as fabric, and design a fabulous wrapped sweater out of the fabric, using the sewing machine and serger to shape it. She is so thankful, you'd think I just offered her husband one of my kidneys to save his life... Funny how it goes. She insists on paying me for it and I'm (very) OK with that.
Sigh. The golden rule I learned from business is that there are those who will never be satisfied, and you should cut your loses and just put your energy out for those who appreciate you.
Your afghan is great but I am going to write anything and everything to get your huge pics to drop down. It's driving me nuts. Again, no offense.
Once upon a time there was this little divorced Texas boy with an affinity for bourbon. He was a part of this knitting group on the internet constantly talking with other knitters that live in the 'suburbs' of Texas; meaning any other state.
This boy was a good boy even when he was a little boy in pigtails. He always makes his bed. Opens doors for strangers and always finishes all his bourbon as he realizes his mother was always right when she told him that there are 'sober children in China' that would give their arm for a good sour mash.
(damn I have no idea where I am going with this)
This boy also was possessed with a a good heart. When one of his friends asked, "Why do you keep all these dead bourbon bottles around?" His response was, "Because I was with them when they died".
(I still dont know where I am going with this)
Many people berated this boy for his relationship with Makers Mark, telling him that he only drives home the way he does to pass that one particualar bar. Being the good boy he is, he responds, "I NEVER pass a bar and you know it!".