How a sock saved my mind
I just got back from the weekend with the kinfolk. And again I come to the conclusion they're all nuts. At least I had my sock. Everytime my family did or said something mildly horrifying I had the sock to distract me.
Family: My cousin coaching her 3 year old daughter to tell me "You like that face yo mamma gave you? Cause I's is fixin to mess it up!"
Me: You know, I really like the short row toe, it makes it much easier to join in the round.
Family: So Abbe, when are you going to get married?
Me: Oh bother, I've dropped a stitch, where is my crochet needle?
Family: You see the trick is to get your job to pay you under the table so you don't have to pay taxes on it and you can still collect disability.
Me: What a lovely colorway! I just love the green, orange and purple!
Family: So Abbe, when are you going to have babies?
Me: Is it time to turn the heel yet?
Family: My Great Aunt cooks vegetables; that's one part bacon grease, one part butter, and one part veggie. Eat up y'all!
Me: I don't think I'm wrapping these stitches the right way, should I start doing it right or just be consistent?
Family: Really, why Ain't you married with babies yet?
Me: Ack, I'm going to have a weird stripe, but it's not worth breaking the yarn.
You get the gist of it. I'm just glad to be home. Here's what the sock looked like by the end of the weekend.