This weekend I took my first humble bits of yarn from my spindle. The Beloved hopes that I am pleased with my 3000 year old technology and wants me to let him know when I master it. I think I love him most for his supportive nature. Anyway. It's over spun and inconsistent and rife with flaws, but it is my first yarn and so I share it with you.

Here it is right off the spindle:

After winding it into a sorry skein, it was time for a nice, hot bath. For the yarn. Not me. Mine came later. Anyway--yarn bath:

I washed it and rinsed it and squeezed the extra water out. Then the fun began. There are no pictures because The Beloved refused to take part in any of my barbaric fiber-related activities. What a coward.

Since it was cold and dark and rainy, I took the yarn into the bathroom rather than outside. And I whacked one end of the skein against the tile walls. Then I whacked the other end of the skein. I took the yarn and whirled it over my head for a little while. When I thought it had been punished enough, I hung it on the shower head to dry:

After asking which Rastafarian I had scalped, The Beloved promised to leave the yarn alone for the evening. I moved it in the morning before he had a chance to try and wash it again--accidentally--in the shower, thus dramatically reducing the likelihood of spousal abuse.

As I said earlier, the only reason this yarn is impressive--to me--is that I did it all by myself. What it will actually be used for remains a mystery to me. Laura has suggested tea cozies and big felted socks. I'm leaning toward the tea cozy myself, but there's still time. As you may notice, there's not quite enough yarn to make much of anything there. But I've got more Romney to spin and lest you think I've been lax in my labors since discovering the wonders of setting the twist through abuse:

Keep on spinning, keep on spinning, keep on spinning, spinning, spinning....