On blogging

When I first started blogging, eons ago, it was an exciting new adventure. I had a small following, we played, we chatted, we had fun. Then Ravelry came into being, and it was (and still is) amazing. Ravelry is also a time suck. For me as well as for the small following I had at the time. Some of us are still in touch, more aren’t. It’s sad, but that’s the way of things. The one thing you can count on is change, whether you want it to invade your world or not.

When everyone went away, it felt like I lost my voice. I’d sit in the same room, in the same chair, typing on the same computer, but suddenly no one listened. It stopped being worth the effort. Years went by with me posting to my blog only on rare occasion, or when I had a naming contest to run. I’ve often thought that what I really need to do is to start blogging regularly again. I keep thinking it, and I keep not doing it. Blogging takes a lot of effort, a lot of time. What if no one reads it?, no one comments?, no one cares? Well, so what if they don’t? I never really blogged for other people, anyway. I did it for myself, if you really get down to it. Since I did it for myself, and I enjoyed it, I should start doing it again. I mean, why not? What do I have to lose?

I’m not sitting here in a new home, in a new room, in a new chair, looking out a different window at different trees over the top of a new computer running a far newer version of WordPress, and a much newer theme—yes, a lot has changed since I last really, truly blogged—promising that I’ll write every day. That would be silly. I don’t have time to write every day. But I’m hoping to write at least once a week. For me. Because I’ve been missing a part of my life that I enjoyed. And it’s something that’s easy to get back. I just have to do it.

Because this is primarily a knitting blog, I include this photo of a little sweater I recently finished. The pattern’s not done yet, but will be soon. I hope to get the pattern off to my tech editor next week, release it before the end of the month. The sweater is a top-down raglan with a row of eyelets above the armhole, a turned hem with (optional) contrasting color on the inside, boxy (read:no waist shaping), eyelet button bands, short sleeves.


I need to take the sweater to a local fabric shop, find matching narrow orange ribbon that I can feed through those eyelets. Show the sweater with and without the ribbon. As an option. Because it occurred to me that some people might like to have that extra little bit of color on the outside, as well as on the inside. Or instead of it. It’d be fun.

I used up almost all of the three hanks of Sonoma that Mira of Baah! (MC: Baia; CC: Orange Amber) gave me for this design. When I say “almost” I mean it. See this little pile of orts? That’s all there is. There is no more blue yarn. Those are the remnants from weaving in the ends. Yup. That’s it. That’s all that’s left. It’s what is known, I believe, as a close thing. I am elated that I decided to do the hem in a different color of yarn. Was that lucky, or what?

She always had that about her, that look of otherness, of eyes that see things much too far, and of thoughts that wander off the edge of the world.
—Joanne Harris—