Obnoxious yellow cap a symbol of mom's love
Voters throwing money away, giving too much control to government
I don't normally pay attention to fashion trends, but I believe bright, neon yellow should be the new denim.
I don't quite know where I first got the impression this is a neglected hue on the color chart, but it's been a few years.
In college, I made the request for bed sheets that were a neon yellow color and, after many unsuccessful searches in places as extreme as Bed, Bath and Beyond or department store catalogs, my family wound up dying a large white set of sheets the desired shade of eye-boggling primary color.
My brother now attends the same university, and inherited the sheets as a hand-me down. He constantly complains that it's hard to get to sleep when they are on his bed, due to the fact that their brightness is akin to the fire of a blazing sun, even in the dead of night.
Also in college, I came across a pair of shoes that same shade of neon yellow, and instantly placed an order, without even trying them out to see if they fit. The gamble paid off — they were probably the most comfortable pair of shoes I have ever owned, and I heard from friends and strangers alike that my feet could be spotted from clear across campus.
My crusade to revive neon yellow as a trendy color recently saw a resurgence, when I asked my mom to crochet me a stocking cap "the brightest, most obnoxious yellow possible" for Christmas.
Bless her heart, she did exactly that. My mom and dad have the patience of saints.
It wasn't exactly an easy request to make, either, seeing as how she had made my brother a stocking cap only days before, but then made the unwelcome discovery that it was too small for his head. Not wanting a repeat, she asked me to measure my head.
Being a twentysomething single (and looking!) male of questionable domestic skills, I don't exactly have measuring tape lying around, and attempts to use a yardstick were also hilariously futile, so in the end I wound up cutting a piece of paper into strips and then marking two lines in pen, one for a tight fit and one that wouldn't cut off circulation around the top of my skull. Then I mailed it off, and waited for Mom to work her magic.
And boy, did she deliver.
This is a stocking cap harnessing the power of the summer sun. When I place it atop my head during these cold, overcast winter months, innocent bystanders have been known to suddenly think it is July, drop everything and head off to the dunes in their RVs, never to be heard from again.
It's a splash of color on a snowy day, a beacon of happiness amidst drifts of melancholy, and a guarantee that I'd be the first one rescued in a horrible blizzard, no matter the era I was in.
1840s Rescuer: "Matthew, thank heavens we found you because of yonder crocheted cap. But whither the rest of the Donners?"
Me: "I've no idea, because no one else in our party of weary settlers was wearing such a brightly colored accouterment. Hast thou any food? I am starving."
It is the most awesome stocking cap ever. Thanks, Mom.
Matthew Weaver is the business and agriculture reporter for the Columbia Basin Herald. This picture in no way conveys just how obnoxious his new hat is. Stop by to see it in person.
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