The Saga of the Yarn Twaddler

The Engineer's family requires a Christmas list be submitted by no later than Thanksgiving evening each year. Should one miss the deadline or fail entirely to send his list, dire fates such as receiving Chia Pets or nose hair trimmers are considered suitable punishment. This is definitely incentive.

Among the items on my list this year were a yarn swift and a yarn baller. Didn't really expect to get them, but, what the heck, a list was required.

Christmas was spent in Michigan. When the family gathered on the 23rd, Twin'sWife began asking EldestNiece if she had received a particular shipment yet. The answer was no. At the traditional Christmas Eve Opening of the Presents, it turned out that the missing package was a yarn swift for me.

Of course, no one else in the family had the faintest idea what the heck that thing was, so it was quickly dubbed "The Yarn Twaddler."

Seems that Twin'sWife, who lives in Texas, had ordered the Yarn Twaddler immediately after Thanksgiving to be sent to EldestNiece, who lives in Michigan. Instead, the box arrived on the doorstep in Texas. Probably a good thing, as it was not what she had ordered. So the beginning of December, after much time on the phone with the owner of the company, she sent it back to the place she'd ordered it from with their promise that as soon as they received the returned merchandise, they would send the proper item to Michigan in plenty of time for Christmas.

Murphy rules in all things. We left Michigan on the morning of December 26th. The Yarn Twaddler arrived at EldestNiece's house the afternoon of... December 26th.

This caused great excitement with the Engineer, his Twin and Twin'sWife. They tasked EldestNiece with sending it ASAP to Utah so I could begin twaddling my yarn immediately. My attitude was more along the line of "whenever you can get to it." EldestNiece works full time, has a sports crazy teenager that she chauffeurs constantly from game to practice to game, and her Dad's been in the hospital since August. Just a wee bit of stress on her.

We were informed that the Twaddler had been mailed on January 5th. It had not yet arrived by the 9th, when the Engineer and I had to go out of town for the weekend. I had hired the 10-year-old next door neighbor to pick up the mail. When the Twaddler wasn't with our stockpiled mail and newspapers when we got home, the real hoohah commenced. I kinda figured they don't call it snail mail for nothing.

Friday, the Yarn Twaddler finally arrived. In the bottom of the slightly battered box was a yarn baller as well.

Thanks so much to my sister-in-law for giving it to me and my niece for sending it to me. I appreciate both of you. (Though if I'd known it was going to be so much trouble, I'd have asked for a nice toaster instead.)

Guess I'd better set it up and get my yarn a-twaddlin'.

Odds 'n' Ends, Bits 'n' Pieces

Remnants. What does one do with them?

I was raised by a mother who had internalized that Great Depression slogan: "Use it Up, Wear it Out, Make it Do, or Do Without!" From the time I could reach a light switch, I knew that you turned it off as you left the room. Aluminum foil was washed and reused as were zip lock bags. What one child outgrew, the next one wore. That's just the way life was.

Things can get interesting when my Mom and the Engineer are in the same house. He walks through the rooms, turning on all of the lights as he goes, turning none of them off. She follows behind, turning them off. He grumbles about walking into walls in the dark, she mutters about waste. Dad and I try to pretend we don't notice what's going on. Sometimes it's hard not to snicker.

Now that I've been knitting a while, I'm starting to accumulate remnants -- half a skein here, a few yards there. Mostly the left overs aren't enough to actually do anything with, but, since I buy yarn I like for the most part, they're pretty.

I don't want to throw them out. There's a corollary to Murphy's Law that states: "The day after any item is disposed of, it is needed." Anyone who's paid any attention to the way the world works knows that Murphy rules. Defy Murphy and it will surely come back to bite you on the butt.

So here I have a couple of yards of worsted wool from the Manly Man Scarf, a length of cotton left from the Thank You Dishcloths, and several yards of 70% kashmir/30%silk from Ember's Gossamer Scarf. I can't see any of these bits being useful for anything, nor can they work together, they're too disparate. But I can't throw them away.

Maybe I'll have to make Art with them. Ooh, Art. (Note the capitalized first letter, that means it's important.)

The nice thing about Art is the artist is pretty much expected to await his/her muse to come calling before starting to do Art.

That gives me a pretty good excuse to save all my odds 'n' ends, don't you think?