Making 2015

First of all…

This is not me. This is a symbolic representation of my inner California girl,  attempting to hibernate. I figure: It’s good enough for the California grizzly bears, must be good enough for me.

Dear Tamara, I just want you to know that I did not actually dig a hole in the snowbank and tuck myself inside. I do love you and all my readers very much, but perhaps I am more hard-hearted than anyone realizes. Not only did I steal borrow that photo off the interwebs, but I stole borrowed it from someone who actually DID dig herself a hole and crawled into it. She, whomever she is, is the courageous and selfless one, the one with the wet coat, the icy jeans, and the adorable pink boots. I am the selfish one sitting here all cozy at my desk, dog on my feet, cat attempting to be a wrist rest. Also, alack and alas, I lack adorable pink boots. Thank you for having such a high opinion of me that you thought I might really have done such a selfless act, all in the name of a fuller blog experience for all you nice people. It saddens me that I am not quite THAT selfless. Please allow me to distract you from my shortcomings with pretty pictures of yarn and yarnly pursuits. Love, Sandi

Making

Usually, around this time of year, I do a wrap-up of the projects completed last year, and perform a quick peek into the crystal ball to see what I might do this year. So, I checked my project page, searched for the “end2014″ tag, and came up with ONE finished object: My Hiro cardigan.

Taken almost one year ago to the day: Jan 24, 2014.

I was knitting other things last year, I swear it. Really I was. Truly. I Did So Knit. As I look back, though, I realize that what I was actually doing was Sampling. I knit a bit on this, I cast on for that and knit on that for a bit, I did a sleeve here and a mitten there. Same with my spinning: I have at least a dozen spindles with a few ounces each of something fluffy and wonderful…but not completed. I travelled for nearly three months, and all along the way, I visited shop booth after shop booth, wandered from one yarn to another, and one spindle to another, as though the trip were one long Wool Buffet. It was Grand. Tons of fun. I have photos to show you of some of the goodies that jumped into my car from here to North Carolina.

However, I thought it might be fun to talk about the Eternal Now, you know, as in what I am working on today, heck, this week even. Live in the present and all that.

That is a cowl. A big, chunky-wool, large-sized-needles, cowl. A gift cowl. A not-for-me-but-cozy-on-someone-else’s-neck-someday cowl. It’s not often I knit gifts for people. Oh, wait. That’s not true. I very often start knitting gifts for people, particularly the people I love. It is even possible that the closer I hold you in my heart, the more projects I will start for you. Finishing these acts of love, these handmade heart messages, well. That’s a different story.

However, this cowl has a Redeeming Saving Grace. The person I am making this for is someone whom I do not know well. I’ve met her, but I don’t know her. She’s a friend of Melody’s; Melody asked me to make this cowl for Z, so I’m making it. There is a Very Important Distinction here: I am making this for Someone Else, a near-stranger. I am NOT making this for Melody. That distinction is important, because the fact that the cowl is intended for a stranger quadruples its chances of an actual bind-off occurring in its near future. (Lucky cowl.)

The Usual Pertinent Details

- Pattern: #103 Lucscious Cabled Cowl (#SWB-L00103 is the mysterious code printed on the instructions)

- Source: SweaterBabe.com

- Yarn: Paton’s Shetland Chunky, 75% Acrylic, 25% Wool, 148 yds per ball.

- Needles: U.S. Size 10/6.0 mm circs, 24″, two sets.

- Number of skeins/balls required: I’m about a third of the way through and on my third ball of yarn. So, I’ll need probably 9-10 balls total. However, the pattern page says the entire cowl requires only 274 yds of Bulky yarn. I swear I’ve used 2.5 balls, or 370 yds already, of my teal green bulky yarn. I’ve done 4 repeats, the pattern calls for 12-13 repeats. If I have 8 repeats remaining, I will need about 555 more yards for a pattern which calls for only  274 yards.

Aren’t I clever, then?

C’mon, Sandi, You Made a Mod. Fess Up, We Know You Did.

Well, I may have modded. Probably. Oh, OK, I modified the pattern because I simply could not help my darn self. It’s a VERY simple patten, one which at first glance seems completely safe from any Sandi Meddling. One casts on at the back neck, knits back and forth in rows a length which wraps around the neck once or twice, and then one binds off. The beginning and the end are then grafted together, and there you have it, a beautiful smooshy cowl. It’s basically a lovely chunky scarf with its ends sewn together.

And that did it. That Word. That “Scarf” word. Perhaps you remember that Things Scarf and I are not on speaking terms for the rest of my life. Perhaps you may recall several posts along the way, wisely coming up with gentle, but pithy, epithets against Scarf, all things related to Scarf (those short straight needles that glow in the dark come to mind), and the horse Scarf rode in on.

A Quilt is most Definitely Not A Scarf. Besides: I will never Confirm nor Deny that I am working on this Quilt.

Of course, once the word Scarf entered my head, I just couldn’t knit the darn thing. But the pattern (aside from its Inner Scarf qualities) is awesome and perfect. Thus (you see where this is headed, I am sure): I converted the Scarf Thing, knit back and forth in rows, to a Cowl Object, knit in the round. I had to finagle a reasonable stitch count, of course, and I had to get over my grief at not having every other row/round be a purl row/round, but I’m pretty much over both by now. Yes, the cables “point” up and down (vertically) rather than around and around (horizontally), but I think they look fine. Yes, one cannot do the double-wrap-around-the-neck trick that feels so cozy in the winter (minus 15C here today, how about you?). However, I am making the cowl long enough so that one can scrunch it down around one’s neck and chin, or, should one’s balding pate be chilly, one can tug the top of the cowl up and over one’s head, covering one’s stylish baldness and lending an air of Medieval Monkishness to one’s personal winter fashion choices.

So that’s One Project I am working on. I am trying to focus my magpie desires a bit this year, working on only one knitting project (socks don’t count, do they?), one quilting project, one spinning project, and so on, thereby increasing my chances of having more than one object with the “end2015″ tag affixed to it in my project pages.

Chispas

1. Discuss:

2. Fascinating Science: The Halfsider Bird. It’s not a male. It’s not a female. It’s not a neuter. It’s half male, half female. Somehow. Yes, really.

3. Traditional Bloggy Dose of Baby Cuteness

Quick quiz: Sheep or Goat? Regardless: Belleh rub!

4. In Which Rants Are Fun: It’s amusing (sometimes…) to rant at the sexist clothing industry, which, in order to preserve a clear view of womanly sexy curves, plus any sexy womanly panty lines, refuses to put pockets in women’s clothing. This pocket-lack frequently leads to women being without  the correct Useful Tool at the correct Useful Time (have you tried to find anything in your purse lately? Quickly, I mean?). Ladies, I give you Our Revenge.

Last but never least: Tim crawled into one of my handknit cowls the other day, tried for three seconds to wiggle out, and then realized he had discovered paradise: a blankie he could carry around with him, from one heater vent to the next.

There you have it, an actual Real Blog Post, organically grown right here in Bolton, Ontario, Canada. Be well. Laugh as much as you can. Love always.

Dear Flannery

Hi there, Flannery! I hope you still remember me; we met at SAFF in Asheville, NC, a few months back. I didn’t get much of a chance to chat back then, as it was a fibre festival and there were silk fumes and all. However, despite all the Oooh Shiny around us, you made a big impression on me, and I just wanted to let you know I’ve been thinking about you ever since we met.

I didn’t even get a photo with you. HOW LAMEOID IS THAT?

Here’s a photo of me, in an attempt to set the balance of the universe right again.

I thought that since I haven’t posted in a while, it might be fun to start off the new year with a gratitude: Even though we only had a few minutes when we met, Ms. Flannery, that few moments with you made a big difference for me; my first gratitude of 2015 is therefore for a young woman named Flannery who lives somewhere in the NC area; I think you know who you are. I still smile when I think of you.

This little dudette also makes me smile. She has two chullo hats just her size. Note the ear openings…

 

You see, meeting you helped to personalize this blog thang that I do, or rather don’t do as much as I might like. Real people read these words. Some people, not knowing what happened to me after I left Interweave, have spent considerable amounts of time looking for me, and they send me delighted emails when they find this blog. And I am so sad that 2014 has largely been one big huge Writer’s Block for me. I’ve struggled with this quite a bit, as most of you know, and it’s getting to the point where I feel like part of me is missing because I am not posting.

Gotta admit that I am rather tired of that particular feeling. Plus, my trip down south introduced me to Flannery, and a few others whom I’ll introduce to you as we go along; folks who reminded me that when I let go of something that is a joy for me, I am, in a way, abandoning the friends and family around me who connect to that joy as well.

The main floor of the arena at SAFF/NC. Yes, I am taking the photo from the second story of booths. Yes, it is HUGE.

However, new year, new possibilities. I realized today that I was starting to pull back into my winter hermitage, and that was certainly no fun last year, so I’m trying something different. I’m making a calendar for myself for blog post topics, and There Will Be A New Post Once a Week. I will pick a publishing day-of-the-week, and try to stick to that as if I had my editor standing at my desk, pointing at her watch, tapping her foot, reciting “blueline, blueline” in a pseudo-patient voice. (“Blueline” is when the staff of a magazine get the proofs from the publishing house and have their absolutely last chance to get things corrected or inserted before the copy goes to press.)

We’ll see how it goes. My intentions are (gently) focused on that goal, and I really think any efforts in this direction are going to help. Better than not trying, right?

Goodbye 2014

It’s been two months solid of zoomzoom here at Chez Sandita, and here January 1, 2015, was five days ago, and I would very much like to know where the heck December 2014 went, if you don’t mind me asking.

I think I missed December. Plus, I’m getting my new purple coat all wet.

I vaguely remember doctor appointments. And the UPS folks constantly ringing our bell. Windstorms. Wearing two pairs of socks day after day, only to have yet two more pairs develop Holes in them from overuse. (I think I must have Velociraptor claws on my heels.)

I got The Flu on Dec. 23, which is a brilliant way of guaranteeing one’s Christmas will be spent on the sofa with not only one box of tissues, but a backup box under the table, as well as a bag of menthol suckie candies and approving Cat Overlords draped on top of one (“STAY, human, stay. You are finally in your proper role as Cat Mattress Heater. Never get up.”)

I was too sick to open presents. I ate a little turkey, a little homemade cranberry sauce, a little pie, then it was back to the sofa with me.

I slept for five days straight. Even now, ten days later, if I try and do much of anything, like, oh, go to church, or have lunch with someone, I end up falling asleep on the sofa again afterwards. Apparently, this flu is the Popular Flu going around this year, and the sleeping thing just goes on and on for a couple of weeks or more. (Imagine my elation upon hearing this.)

I slept through Christmas, more or less. The first time I felt conscious enough to open the gifts under the tree was New Year’s Eve, in fact. It was kind of a fun way to spend NYE, what with the dog and cats playing with the coloured paper, and TimCat and ZoëCat having to personally inspect every box-like item.

We have an adorable tree, one which ended up decorated in a “woodland/farmland animal” theme, with hedgehogs and sheep and moose and mice and bears; even the above needle-felted alpaca I bought at SAFF found herself a place on the tree.

All right, 2015, here we come. Hope you have some goodness in store for all of us this year.

Chispas

• Life too stressful? Watch this.

• Possibly the coolest evening gown ever.

• Possibly the scariest house ever.

• The Wave Organ. I truly regret not ever visiting this when I lived nearby. (People! Visit Cool Things In Your Backyard!)

• Finally, Simon the Cat’s Christmas video.

Off-roading it a bit

Scenic pullout in Massachusetts along Hwy 9

Sometimes, a journey has a specific Plan: go here, stay there, see these people, leave next day for somewhere else.

Such were my wanderings, more or less, up until yesterday morning, Wed the 12th.  I had my last scheduled dinner Tuesday night with a much-loved friend, and Wed morning at ten o’clock, I still hadn’t made up my mind: I very much wanted to visit Salem, Mass, a second time. I could also see friends in Reading if I went That Way.

I’m having trouble posting pics for you. Darn blogging app. And the regular in-browser editor is wonky, too. Sorry about that. I’ll try to put a few at the end.

I could drive the normal (?) way home, stopping in Syracuse to see friends there.

Or…I kind of wanted to try something one of my Naomi friends had suggested: Enter a destination, vague, like Canadian Border. Then, disallow toll roads. (This works best in a place like New England that is cluttered with collection booths).

Then hit “go”…and see what happens.

What happened for me was that Barbie (my GPS voice) took me from Main Street, Northampton, along a few minor highways heading rather north-ish, to Hwy 87N.

Hwy 87N has no tolls…and barely any traffic. It took me high up into the Adirondack Mountains, so I could see treestreestrees, and lakes, and quaint homes and farms of every description.

The air was fresh, like it is in a real forest of a certain size. Chilly, with the clearest, brightest sunshine. Many of the leaves had turned and fallen already, but there was an occasional tree clad in an emperor’s royal red that took my breath away.

Thank you, Barbie. The scenery was well worth the extra two to three hours of driving.

Unfortunately, it was so curvy with many Unexpected Trucks that I didn’t get a chance to pull over and take photos. ::sadface::

I stopped for the night after about six hours of driving, got myself checked into a hotel (I boldly walked up to the desk at 5 pm asking if they had an open room for the night—que cajones!), and went to throw open the curtains just to see what’s out there.

This time, “what’s out there” happened to be a Canadian border crossing, literally about two blocks from my bedroom.

I had no clue that I was that close.

So today, Thurs the 13th, I enter Canada via Quebec, and drive for a while through a lovely province I have heard so much about. Another stop tonight, and then, midday Friday: Home.

Not all who wander are lost, you see.

Who’s that?

Who the heck has climbed into my purple Namaste bag?

That sure isn’t Truffles, my usual Travelling Companion.

Whoever they are, they’ve snuck into my purple purse and cuddled themselves into my favorite storebought cashmere sweater.

Now, who do you think would have the heart of mischief required to do such a thing?

I guess we’ll all just have to wait until next post to find out.

P. S. This is my 200th post since I switched to WordPress. Yay!

 

 

Travelling woman

Since I last posted (from NY? No clue), I have driven All the Miles and stayed either with peeps or in hotels. I now have a fave hotel chain, a statement that reflects just how many chains I have tried.

 

First place goes to Country Inn & Suites, for overall sparkling cleanliness, price deals, breakfast quality, and bed comfiness. Second place (close on heels!) is Hampton Inn & Suites, for all the same reasons. Just a wee bit of travel insight in case you haven’t had the chance to try umpty-three chains yourself. You’re welcome.

I am currently in Utterly Gorgeous North Carolina. I was fortunate enough to be able to attend one of the best fiber festivals in my experience: SAFF, South-Eastern Animal Fiber Festival (or similar, I will look it up when I have internet to post this post).

The setting is beautiful. But check this out:

It’s Rhinebeck South!

That’s the inside of the main building. Booths are in a ring around the edges, and then in a central oval, with booths facing the booths on the edge. (but wait! there’s more!)

If you go up the stairs to the snacks and restrooms ring at the top of the stadium, there are MORE booths all along that second-floor walkway.

Go outside, cross the parking lot, and you will find a second building, a barn will a similar ringed arrangement.

Which I did not take a picture of. :)

Cross a gravel road, and you are at the animal barns.

Which is where I met the fine fellow whose photo is at the end of this post. He won Grand Champion, and from his bearing and noble eyes, you can tell he knows it. However, he is a true champion, humble and courteous, so he will not think himself better than you. In fact, Himself was not above giving the Paca Princess a few kisses on her nose.

There’s more to tell, the past week down here has brought me friendships both new and renewed, so there are people to introduce and pictures of a five-day-old cria for you to coo over.

However, checkout time looms, and it’s time to find a route and get on the road.

More later, I promise.

I am trying to find a way to post multiple photos in a place you can see them ( I still have a flikr acct, hm), but in the meantime:

I have joined the Instagram crowd, user sandiwiseheart, and I am posting daily as much as possible there. (If you don’t know Instagram from an app-in-the-wall, it is basically photo-sharing, one at a time, with captions. Usually folks like me post only one pic a day or so, so it isn’t overwhelming).

Love and llama kisses!

Two days before Rhinebeck

 

I am so fortunate to be here.

I left it as a large photo because this place is beyond awesome. I’m in a town in the hills just outside of Syracuse, waaayyy upupup. My awesome hosts, friends of a friend, offered to let me stay in their loft the week between Stitches East and Rhinebeck. I am completely captivated by the surroundings, and by my charming hosts.

Hold on… Perhaps I ought to back up a bit to fill you in.

I’ve been thinking about a “Fall Tour, East Coast Version” for a while, and when my friend Jen, the superhero indie dyer behind Holiday Yarns, invited me to be a booth babe at a couple of the fall shows, I, not being an idiot, said Holy Stitchmarkers, Batman: YES.

Gotham City Skyline Socks, designed by Melanie Matos. Kit & Pattern available from Holiday Yarns.

Tuesday, Oct 7th, I drove to Syracuse, NY, where Jen’s dye studio is. Last-minute Happenings ended with me joining Susan, owner/operator of The Yarn Cupboard in Jamesville, for dinner…at her mother’s house in Jamesville with sisters, Mama, and a cousin or two all around the table.

They’re Italian. Mama had made a pasta dish with some kind of (delicious) meatballs, and there was HOME MADE canneloni for desert.

I really do have pictures of canneloni and cookies! Patience…

Turns out that one of the sisters is trained as a pastry chef, and owned her own bakery for years.

I like Susan’s family.

Because time is of the essence right now, I will post more pics and words(!) about all these ongoing Hi-jinks as I get seconds to sit down and tap the keys. 

After a lovely sleep in Susan’s guest room (she trusted me enough to leave me alone with both her yarn stash And her quilting sash…now THAT’s trust), Jen, assistant dyer Melanie, and Colorful Personality Minion (that’s me) set off for Stitches East, held in beautiful-but-impossible-to-navigate (especially with a marathon running right down the main streets, causing detours and nice, capable cops trying to stay polite whilst giving alternate routes to people who are shaky-at-best on the original routes.

Until I have more time to tell stories and introduce folks properly, how about a few photos to tell some of the story for me?

Ummm…my iPad is having hissy fits about those pics. The internet here fails to acknowledge me sometimes, so how about some STUNNING Stitches pic later? GAH. 

I promise there will be Yarn Pr0n, on my honour.

Where am I headed today after I tear myself away from paradise up here?

Rhinebeck!!

I hope to see you there. I have the honour of being the sales minion for jessalu’s bags, sold at the Holiday Yarns booth…

on beyond the Yarn Beyond!

Sandi

ps linking isn’t working properly either.  Doomed.

Note: obviously, I wrote this post last week, and I have more adventures to share. The reason this is posting so late has to do with Inconsistent Internet. But I’ll keep trying when I find a decent hotel room or a starbucks. I love Panera, but it’s internet is a tad wonky at times.

How Tim Lost His Eye

You asked questions! I am thrilled. Thank you. I love answering questions.

Sharon and Msuem both asked…

That’s my mischief maker! He is our Canadian cat, as he is the first pet we have obtained since moving here.

This little guy and his mom were found outside a garage in a snowbank by Frances, the mother of Denise, one of Melody’s grad students. I think there may have been other sibs who found homes before we came into the story, but when Denise contacted Melody and asked if she wanted a kitten, it was just Tim and Daisy, his mom, living in a warm guest room upstairs in Frances’ house.

Except at that time, Tim was living under his Witness Protection Program name: Boots.

Once we got him home, all four pounds of him (he was about seven weeks old), we realized that he didn’t so much have boots as he had long white leggings.

And calling a perfectly sweet kitten “Leggings” just did not seem fair at all. (Someone once said he had grey “spats”. I looked her in the eye and said, so, you want us to call our adorable new kitten “SPATS”?)

(It was kind of one of those laughing with your hands on your knees moments.)

We cast about for a name. We tried everything we could think of, from the sublime “Prince Hairy” to the redonkulous “Swashbuckle”.  We’d stand in front of him, look him in the Eye, and say, “Swashbuckle! Hello-ooooo, Swashbuckle! Are you a Swashbuckle? Swashbuckle!” all in that sugary-sweet Shirley Temple high-pitched voice that one reserves for baby kittens and baby kittens alone. And wee Not-Swashbuckle would blink, look at us quizzically for a moment, and then yawn and start studiously cleaning his nether regions.

Ooooooh-kayyyy, then. Not a Swashbuckle. Gotcha.

One day we were watching the folks filing into choir practice, several of them with their evening cup o’ Tims, which has a store about two blocks from us. Melody and I looked at each other with that dorky ohHO look that is our patented dorky couple look. When we got home, we presented Not-Swashbuckle with “Tim”–and he didn’t lick his butt! That was good enough for us, so Tim of Horton’s he is, a truly Canadian Cat.

OK. So. Back to the Not-Eye.

He actually does have an eye in there, so saying he lost his eye is a wee bit dramatic. When we met him, we noticed that he kept his left eye almost closed all the time, and it seemed to run a bit. Frances told us that she had found him that way, and the vet had given her some ointment in case it was an infection.

We took him to our vet, who gave us the 411: You know how cats have that inner eyelid?(Warning: slight gross-out ahead for those with eye squidges, sorry) Well, somewhere along the line, probably in the womb or during birth, his inner eyelid got stuck to the surface of his cornea, so that when it came time to open his eyes as a baby, the inner eyelid tore (we think), leaving parts stuck to the cornea and parts attached to his outer eyelid.

When he was older, the vet suggested an operation to try and separate the inner eyelid bits stuck to the cornea, to lessen the risk of bad juju. We took him in for the surgery, and for a while after, it looked as though he would recover almost completely.

Except that he didn’t. The membranes got stuck together again, and after a couple more rounds of medication and poor-baby kisses, the vet said it was better not to mess with his eye too much, and that was that.

So he still has that eye, but it is partially covered by bits of his inner eyelid, and he can’t fully open the eye because of the bits stuck to the outer lid.

No, we have never put an eye patch on him and growled, “Avast, ye Cap’n Tim!” His claws grow super-fast, and they are Sharp.

ARRGH!

Can he see out of that eye?

We think so. We think he can see light and dark, like shadows, maybe shapes, that sort of thing. Not a lot of detail, probably.

But TimCat can jump six feet from floor to banister post without a waiver. (The top of the post is four inches square.) He jumps all over, up and down, down and up, as if to prove that he is still a Most Worthy Cat. Never falls. Never hesitates. We don’t know if he is using the veiled eye to help triangulate, or if he is turning his head in lots of mini-moves to get the coordinates right.

I will say that the two times a feline has caught a live mouse in this house, that feline has been Tim. Great Hunter Tim clearly doesn’t need no stinkin’ second eye.

Question: Why don’t kitties ever get napper’s block?

Chispa

Here’s Oskar, a truly blind kitty, learning to play with his very first toys.

Posting this video is my way of arm-waving so you don’t notice that I have not yet been able to locate one of Tim’s own baby pictures. I owe you a Tim Baby Pic. Remind me if I forget.

---

Thank you, all of you, for the wonderful, kind, and yes, loving comments. You are giving me the strength to climb out of the pit, one chispa at a time :)

peeking out, because of kindness

This post is dedicated to the kindness of LauraLyn, who along with a few others of you, have sent me several lovely emails out of the blue, expressing concern and support for me whilst depression has been eating my brainz. Thanks to all of you for the hands outstretched, the kindnesses extended, and well, just everything.

LauraLyn offered this bit of insight taken from Alice Hoffman’s Survival Lessons, a tiny volume of essays she wrote. Alice wanted to remind herself, as a breast cancer survivor, that in the midst of personal crisis, turmoil or trauma, that there is still beauty in the world to be explored.

Indeed there is. Let’s go for some bloggy walks to seek out that beauty, shall we.

Sunday, Sept 21, 2014

Hullo, lovely GentleWise Folk.

I took a selfie! Mostly a proof-of-life selfie, but still. Here is me, breathing and dressed and everything.

After writing that last post, and after reading all your supportive, lovely, and uplifting comments, I realized I needed to do a bit of navel-gazing, as self-indulgent as that might seem. The Flails were back again with a vengence, and one day, tired of being frustrated with myself, I just Hit The Wall. I closed the laptop, went outside to sit on the front porch, and began asking myself the hard questions.

You know. The HARD questions, the ones that cause some of us to lose sleep and and lay awake thinking about What It All Means and What Part of Everything Do I Want to Participate In?

My perfect cats would NEVER do this. Tim, AKA the Great Northern Hunter, prefers to bring his half-dead mouse upstairs and plunk it down at my feet when I am sitting on the loo at 2 AM. Nice.

Still, sometimes you just gotta ask yourself what is important to Self. So I contemplated my at-times bejeweled belly button, and Had A Think and gave myself a wee Q&A session.

• Why was I fighting so hard to do something that was so difficult, bringing so much Flail into my life?
• Where had my blogging mojo gone?
• Did I even want to continue blogging?

That last one, wow. That hurt. Stop blogging? Well, yeah, it does seem as though I’m resisting more than I’m writing. So why keep doing it? Why keep blogging?

And believe it or not, my belly button simply refused to answer any of my questions. It did not even wish to offer advice.

It just sat there. Being Navel-ish. (The nerve!)

Do I want to continue blogging?

I’ve been posting on-the internet blog entries, in one format or another, since around 1996, 1997. Before that, I kept journals, in all sorts of blank books, from the mottled black & white composition workbooks to leather-covered volumes (usually purple leather; usually embossed with faeries, trees, hobbit runes, or the ever-popular Cats. At age twelve, I predictably chose a unicorn.).

I collect blank books, spindles, stuffed animals, and children’s books. Come over and play sometime.

I don’t remember exactly when I started writing about my life and its inhabitants, but by age eleven, I already had a whack of no-longer-blank-books lining the shelf above my bed. For a couple of years, I took to making decorative cloth covers for those black&white composition books, using my mom’s heavy grey metal stapler to attach cloth to cardboard, or else sewing the parts together with embroidery floss in the color of the week using a honkin’ big 2-inch “craft needle”. I took a batik class in sixth grade; most of my class practice pieces ended up as journal covers.

See? Even as a kid, for me, journaling was inextricably linked to craft of some sort. I pasted cards and drawings onto the pages, I sewed beads onto sparkly ribbons for bookmarks, I made those workbooks into little mixed media explorations.

In other words, I realized that I have been writing stories about myself, my interests, my inner life, and my crafting since before I could do calculus.

My new sewing machine loves to do strip piecing. Fortunately, so do I.

How does one stop doing something they’ve always done?

The answer is, of course: They don’t. If I stop writing down slices from my life, it will begin to take slices off my heart.

That’s when I started hearing objections from the Blog Demons…

But my posts are annoying.

Annoying? Yes, this is why you get dozens of supportive comments every time you post. Because you are annoying. Uh Huh.

It’s time-consuming.

Well, don’t write a tome every time you post, then.

I don’t know what to say.

And yet somehow, you always manage to say something.

I don’t tell funny stories anymore. So I’m boring.

Oh, for pete’s sake. Stop that.

I want to write, but I can’t do it on my own.

That’s what readers are for. And cats, apparently.

A Challenging Challenge

Writer’s block is normal, but hooboy does it suck. I’ve had a particularly rough patch of it this spring and summer, so methinks Measures Must Be Taken.

So here’s an Idea. See what you think….

I gather, from previous conversations with you-IRL, that many of you (being intelligent and curious beings) have Wonderings. You have Questions. Questions about me, questions about how to bind off and not have the edge curl, how to choose the right yarn for the right socks, Please-can-I-avoid-kitchener-stitch-forever-and-ever-amen, what can you knit if you live in Alabama, what about crochet, why is my studio such a peach pit, how did Tim lose his eye, how things are going with Melody and by the way, who IS Melody?

I say: Go for it. Bring on the questions. I need a little two-way interaction here to get me past my inner demons, back on the road to posting regularly again. (That’s my goal: Regular posting. Time schedule TBD.)

And my new goal to help me get started: One paragragh. One photo. One Chispa. We’ll start there and see what happens next.

My wee Origami Frog. He jumps, too. When he feels like it.

CHISPAS

~ I saw this one months ago, and it’s still at the top of my personal chispas list: Gentleman spins his hair into the playable strings of a violin. (Mommmeeeee,  Sharaz is playing my hair again! And she’s practicing Mozart this time. I’m BOOORRRREEEDDD of Mozart, plus the high notes bother my teeth.)

~ This artwork can only be found using Google Maps.

~ I am suddenly fascinated by origami after making a wee frog in the children’s exploraratory room in Peabody Essex Museum in Salem, Mass. (I was there to see the Yin Yu Tang House, fascinating)

1. This guy promised to fold a life-sized elephant from a single sheet of paper if his collections for charity hit a critical goal. They did, and he did.
2. Photos and videos from an exhibit of the work of 80 origami artists. When you look at it, it is hard to believe it is all paper.
3. Note wee teensy origami effort of mine own, above.

 

Obligatory Cute Animal Photo:

See the goldfish cracker on the table. Buddy sees it too. Buddy does not understand why it is not on the floor, but hanging in mid-air. Buddy does not understand glass-topped tables. We love him anyway.

Well, my friends. That’s way more than one paragraph; but truth be told, I have been writing blog entries almost daily…I just haven’t been posting them because of the Blog Demons. I didn’t want to edit this one too severely for fear I’d never think it was good enough.

But your kindnesses have brought me out of the woodwork…thank you.

much love,
Sandi