Nothing Comes Between a Man and His Yarn?

I drove in from Houston yesterday just in time to hang out with some old college friends I hadn't seen a while. We did nothing more than stay in the place where they were crashing trying to change the world in a single night, and came up way short. By the time I realized how late it was I was too tired to drive home. True to college form everyone found the coziest couch, and in my case corner on the floor. Rising to realize these aren't as favorable of conditions as they used to be it was decided that I needed to get on with my day and make good use of my time. Grimy and gross, the conditions were instead ripe for sitting outside writing and sweating out the previous evening. Two cups of coffee in, a beer on the way, and two written pages down this younger guy came strolling in with a couple of tote bags.

Had he not kept looking over each shoulder spotting his investigative peers I probably would have never looked over my computer or hunched position over the leather bound journal. It's all good man. Rambeau's not looking. Whatcha got in there? Boom! Out comes some yarn and chop stick looking things. Duuuude, are you croqueting!? Hold up, that's a lawn game I think. Crocheting? Knitting? I don't know the difference if there is one, but right on. Do your thing bud. I'm not judging. I'm just interested to understand your interest in the delicate intricacies of your yarn. Carry on. To this bizarre bean who isn't afraid to get pointed at and picked on by his peers in class anymore: you know you are...