After the completion of my first pair of socks (and their subsequent trip through the dryer and into the loving arms of F, who has incredibly small feet) and the baby knitting, I felt confident enough to try for a pair of socks for T.
I let him pick his own yarn, in his own colors and so on. (Otherwise I would have used the neon-rainbow-vomit sock yarn I already have. Barbie goes tanning pink, anyone?)
This yarn was left sitting in a hank in my yarn stash, languishing its days away while I finished fretting over the baby sweaters and asking everyone I saw if they would dress their child in such an item (Moni says she loves it! Hooray!).
Last night, I decided that the time was nigh. It was time to organize the yarn pile, to wind the hanks into balls and then separate everything by color, brand and fiber.
I asked T's brother J if he would hold the hank for me while I wound. (J has hands that we {well, I} refer to as 'Man-Bear-Paws {catch the South Park reference?} as they are huge beyond belief) All this chore entails is holding your hands about three feet apart while the yarn, which is suspended cat's-cradle style, around them, is slowly rolled into a ball.
This proved a job too difficult for the dear J.
He dropped a part of the hank, which immediately turned itself into a huge tangle. So T had to help. And my buddy A, who was over for dinner and some Wii bowling.
Please enjoy my blurry photo montage:
This is J, attempting to untangle the mess. Also, A's feet. Also, the random storage container in my dining room. T is currently holding the hank, I am winding the ball and taking the pics.
Here you are getting a larger scope of the problem. J is standing about three feet behind me, still taking part in the activities shown in the previous picture. (Aren't T's feet adorable?)
Here's T, modeling the proper way to hold a hank of yarn for winding. Also, my messy living room. And the infamous 'Navajo' couch. (You would think that if someone were going to make a couch that ugly, they would make it comfortable. That thing needs to go live with a nice family on a farm.) Oh, and anyone who can tell me who is on T's t-shirt wins a prize. For real.
And here is the full picture, from T's view. There's my pajama-ed legs, J frantically trying to un-tangle the knots, and my horrible horrible carpet.
And that is how I spent my Thursday night.
(Seriously, how embarrassing is it that it took 4 adults over the age of 25 half an hour to wind a ball of string?)
