I’ve been doing so much crafting lately that I’m a wee bit giddy.
First of all, I seem to be nearly done with my Watershed:
The yarn is such a lovely fuchsia colour, and soooo smooshy and rich-feeling. I’ve checked the yarn label several times, because it’s just so hard to believe this is superwash merino. (Yarn: Great Adirondacks.) The yarn is so good the project just flies.
I may also have made a tiara.
I’ve made a few tiaras before, had one in Beadwork magazine even, but never made more than one every few months or so. When Abby sent out the call for door prizes for Stringtopia, I jokingly suggested I could donate a tiara…and people practically begged me to actually do it.
So the blue one with the star is winging its way to Ohio to be awarded to some lucky spinner at the end of this month.
I’d forgotten how much I love making tiaras. I’ve toyed with the idea of setting up an Etsy shop to sell a few here and there, but just never got around to it. But now that my fingers seem to be itching to make the sparklies again, well. I can’t exactly keep them all, can I?
Is it Real Life or is it Blogging?
Mardi asked a really interesting question in the comments from last time.
In what way is blogging not “real life”, especially when one is a professional blogger??
That resonated with me, and I’ve been coming back to this question over and over the past few days. There is a sense for me that if I am writing, I am somehow stepping back from the rest of life for a bit, sifting through my experiences, evaluating them to see which ones might interest you folks to read, which ones would interest me to write about. That sense of evaluating my experiences, of putting them together for an audience, of editing their stories and illustrating them with photos, that sensation feels a bit Other Than Real Life to me.
So there’s what I write about, and there’s the act of writing. Except for when I get all meta on myself and write about writing (oh, look, doing it now!), the writing feels separate, apart. Writing is a way for me to document my life, my craft, my thoughts; it’s also just something I have to do or else I get darn squirrely.
So is it real living, the time when I am writing? Well, sure. I’m a writer; I have to write, I can’t help it and I need it to thrive and grow. However, over the past few years, as I’ve spent more and more time writing for pay, I’ve fallen into an easy trap, the trap of writing about crafting without actually crafting. I could go for months at a time when I worked on Knitting Daily, writing my head off about seaming and bust darts and yarn (oh my!), but not actually having the energy or time to pick up needles and wool.
After a while, when I keep writing about making without actually making, I feel…thin. Not physically thin, of course, but thin in terms of that vibrancy, that singing tuning fork within me that is the source of all my best work, whether it be in sparklies or in merino or in words. That tuning fork is what’s True within me; get too far from it, and its vibrations lose their strength and power.
I think that’s what I’ve been doing lately: Finding ways to give that tuning fork something to sing about. Knitting fuchsia yarn makes it sing, as does sitting at my bead table again.
Spinning this ain’t too bad either.
That is the first batt I ever made, created in one of Abby’s drumcarding classes at SOAR 2009. This batt is named “Non-Dromedaries Eat Melons” and is merino, tencel, and camel. (Why the name? Why not?)
I kind of love it.
Oh. And by the way… I think Cal needs some handspun silk sewing thread. She’s coming up this way to teach soon; I might have to find a way to slip some into her bag.
This dog needs a crate. Or doggy daycare. Or something.
Great office supplies we covet: I need one of these. I think all of us need one, actually.
Ever wonder which loaf in the store is the freshest? I love tiny bits of useful info like this.
Finally…an addictive time-waster that is actually fascinating and teaches you something. Thank me later. (Don’t forget to take pee breaks.)