Compete.

"I'm just going to tell you this right now so you get it straight. In public, you refer to me as 'Angie,' not 'Mom.' We are going to be in constant competition for the affections of men until I kick the bucket, so you might as well get used to it. By the way, we're scheduled for a mother-daughter mani-pedi next Friday."

Warmth.

Granny fondly called it the "smut blanket," for obvious reasons.

Sweaterdress

"Why don't you come over here and I'll tell you allllll about the stockinette stitch, and how I'd like you to just RIP IT OFF ME..."

Forbidden Fruit.

Theirs was a torrid, forbidden love...except in several southern states; and it was "okay" with their Great-Aunt Myrna.

Skating Away.

"Hey guys, I'm here! WHAT? WHAAAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU. DOCTOR SAYS THE THIRD CONCUSSION COULD BE FATAL. HEY WHO'S READY TO SKAAAAATE?"

Jonathan Livingston Seagull.

The years of therapy and shock treatments were but a blink in the future. Right now, Kevin and Travis just wanted to revel. Boys will be boys, Mother always said.

Golf Ballin'.

Paul clutched the club with delicate fingers, remembering Michael. Michael. The man who had taught him how to play. His tireless devotion to making sure he was firmly holding him from behind, grasping Paul's lithe waist, assuring his swing was strong and silent and MEANINGFUL. Their time wrestling in the sand pit. Their time alone under the windmill, searching for balls of one kind...and another.
Michael....Michael....whither the steamy nights of putt-putt?

They Walk Alike, They Talk Alike

Vested Up.

She was footloose and fancy-free, without a care in the world. She knew she was safe in her knitted bulletproof vest.

Matchy Matchy.

"And then, when we get back to my place, we can wear matching teddies."

Sisters!

Hazel was more than happy to find a competent knitter who could, at last, custom-make a cap that took into consideration the head of her unformed twin protruding from the back of her skull.

Breakin' & Poppin'

Because nothing screams "macho man" like a pink popped yuppie mofo collar.

Coyly Smiling.

"Why don't you come over here and twenty-three skiddoo me right there on the bearskin rug? WINK."

Footballer.

Things at the game were spiffing, until Ralph had a few too many Mad Dogs and mistook his daughter for the ol' pigskin, and punted her right over the 50-yard line.

Gallery Of Men In Sweater Vests.

You know what they say about men in sweatervests...

Inside.

The only refuge they had; their only shelter, was the comforting surroundings of yarn bricks and a window into their like-minded souls.

Yarrrrn.

He's so damn sophisticated he's decided to ingest the damn thing.

Trio.

It was a club that few joined and fewer wanted to join, but this band of brothers in crocheted tunics did alright.

High Definition.

"You know you want this acrylic yarn mountain in which I am tightly swaddled."

Boldly Banded.