I can stop anytime I want. Really.

I am a beginning knitter. And when I say "beginning," I mean just that. I started this insidious interesting little obsession hobby only a few months ago, after a trip to the local fabric store went quicker than I expected. I had some extra time, so I wandered around-- and discovered that over to the side there was this ENORMOUS selection of yarns, in a riot of colors, and sizes, and patterns, and textures... Lord forgive me, I am a sucker for texture. The next thing I knew, two little skeins and a pair of fat plastic needles had adhered themselves to my hand. In order to make a break from the store they pried my credit card out when I wasn't looking; and then they followed me home.

Being the geeky sort, I wandered around online until I found a place that would show me how to put my purchases to good use. I found some directions that were only moderately confusing, and began.

Ripped out, and began again.

Finally, on the third try, I managed to get a needle loaded and a row of knitting started. This boded well; so I kept going. . . and going, until I had used up my two small skeins. Lo and behold, I had a scarf! A fuzzy blue scarf, with soft little sparkly bits in it. (Okay, I know that yarns have names, and that I should probably remember it-- the yarn that willingly gave itself to my first project-- but I don't. I simply used it, casting on and then casting off without a second thought. It served my purpose, satisfied my longings, and I moved on. (I am coming to better understand the appellation "Yarn Harlot.")

Over the next few weeks, I made trips back to the store on several occasions, and yarn went through my needles like water through a sieve. I took the knitting everywhere-- to sit in the doctor's office, to watch the boy's soccer games, to pass the time in the passenger seat when our family travelled... (no, I did not try to knit while driving. I may be crazy, but I'm not stupid). I've made scarves for both children, the boy's teacher, my sister-in-law... and the current project doesn't even have a destination. It's only reason for existance was that I was working on purling (that being the other basic knitting stitch, and kind of like knitting only backwards).

but you know... a woman can only knit scarves for so long before she wants to move on to harder drugs projects. I considered hats, and mittens, and even sweaters or shawls; but I have lately developed the urge to make socks. This is not logical, I know. I can buy socks by the bin at the local department store, with less effort and less expense. Nevertheless, the desire is there, and grows stronger by the day.

Herein lies my dilemma. I have tried looking up directions online, just as I did to learn what I have so far-- and I find that they are written in code. Unintelligible code, confusing and bewildering and beyond comprehension.

Fingering weight yarn? I finger all of it. That's what yarn is for, yes?
bulky weight? That hardly seems kind. Is there a Weight Watchers for yarn?

Slip 1, purl 9, p2tog, p1, turn.
Slip 1, k3, SSK, k1, turn.
Slip 1, p4, p2tog (across the gap), p1, turn.
Slip 1, k5, SSK (across the gap), k1, turn.

If knitters had been employed during WWII, we would not have needed to worry about transmission of secret information behind enemy lines.

And then I look at the pictures, and they use four needles to do one sock! Criminy, I can barely handle two without doing harm to some vital organ.

However, I am stubborn tenacious. And I am obsessed with committed to learning how to knit a sock.

So I'm coming to you for help. Are there any knitters out there, who would be willing to translate for me? Or heck, show me where to begin? Yarns, needle sizes, directions comprehensible to the rank amateur... ?