Despite much evidence to the contrary, this is not a knitting blog. Well, not really. Let me explain.
This blog is an outlet for creativity, for worry, for whatever is eating me up inside, or whatever is making me smile that day. When I started this blog, I was in kind of a funk. I go through these from time to time, these moments where I conclude that I am not happy for whatever reason and I start trying to fix it. The blog was an attempt to fix it, only it turns out it didn’t fix it. The blog hasn’t been around long (here’s post 16 to prove it), but it’s doing something entirely other than fixing an ennui. It’s making me aware of what is happening in my life, and making me turn it around, taste it, appreciate it, and poke a little fun at it from time to time.
See, I’m the kind of girl who cries when you forget a scoop of flour in cookies and they turn out…non-cookiesque. I hate it when things don’t go my way. Traits about me have included: sarcastic, stubborn, expressive, impatient and a little impulsive. My siblings would add spoiled (though I content that the spoilers like to point at the spoilee on this point, but I didn’t buy that Care Bear, yo!) Spoiled is the more cruel way of saying I like to get my way. Yup (who doesn’t?) but I acknowledge after years of motherhood, employment and borderline poverty that I have definitely not always gotten it. It took me years to get here, and I had to persist.
Before you start thinking “good lord, this woman does not have any redeeming traits at all”, let me attempt to redeem myself with the end of this story.
As I said, I cry over cookies. I cry over pretty much everything that I fantasize in my head that doesn’t turn out. When I travel to places on my bucket list, I am always surprised and saddened that it doesn’t look like a panoramic view from a helicopter like it does in movies. I’m sure most people would not lament finding themselves in Paris. I didn’t either, mind you, but it takes a walk from your hotel to the Eiffel Tower to really accept that what you are experiencing is different than your dreams. These experiences, and this blog, help remind me that I have to be here in the now, and appreciate it for what it is. I have to try and savour the flavours of cookies with a scoop of flour missing rather than tossing them in the bin and crying on the floor that the cookies (and I) are non compos mentis.
It just so happens that knitting teaches me the exact same thing and goes hand-in-hand with my blogging. Sure, I shout out “don’t move!” when I drop a stitch and I once threw an entire mohair hat in the garbage (it asked for it), but I am learning. Slowly, but I am learning. I am learning to find patience among the curse words, and I am learning to find peace in the line-ups and the car rides, and Canadian Tire. I am learning that my way is not the only way, and that my way may not be the better way either. (Just breathe…it’ll be okay.)
Just to be safe, though, I’ve started counting the scoops of flour in my cookies out loud because, frankly, I just want the cookies.