You all remember the prayer shawl I just finished? The one I crocheted from my own handspun yarn?

The back, draped over a dress.

Here’s what happened when Mom, Aunt Geri, and I went to put a price on it for the show:

I’d just driven down from Fort Collins on Friday, my last day at my old job. I had to get my products ready for the big show the next day, and the day after that, I had to be on a plane. I was, as you might suspect, a bit stressed out.

Enter the rest of the family. We price the skeins of yarn, a hat I found floating around in a box, a little neck warmer thing. All good. Then we get to the shawl. It is, apparently, too small. An awkward size. Not worth as much as previously discussed.

I burst into tears, accept the suggested price and try to escape the room before I have to talk about it any more. Because the fact of the matter is this: I actually like this piece. Much of what I make, I have to settle with “Eh, not terrible”. But this shawl is one of the best things I’ve ever made. And even though I know I’ll seldom wear it, I can’t let it go.

We never put a price on it.