3rd Blogiversary

My first was here, back when Cate & Carry thought I was a femmey butch. They might be right.

My second was here, while we were waiting for Wifey to birth the Surrogate Baby.

The third is today, which I spent teaching a dear friend how to spin (both spindle and wheel).

This day is celebratory. Three years of blogging. That’s big. In fact, that’s longer than most of my relationships. (whoah) But …

I have to be honest here. For the last couple weeks, I’ve been thinking about quitting. Before you decide to write crazy comments, please know that I’m not saying this to elicit “oh, please don’t go, we love you so…*” comments.

*extra points if you can identify that quote*

I started blogging in an effort to focus on the good in my life. I needed a place to write positive things, because life was hard and very disappointing. It worked. I felt happier and more content. Without a doubt, this incredible community kept me standing through some of the worst times of my life. But at this moment, I’m not sure where I’m headed or what I want.

Oddly, I am content for the first time in many years. The divorce was a blessing in disguise, and I’ll be forever grateful to Xifey and her next-door-neighbor-girlfriend for giving me an undeniable exit. An evil horrible exit, but an exit that showed me that I could survive a fiasco and plopped me into this dreamy life (which could be much dreamier if I was having lots and lots of crazy lusty sex with the beautiful women that constantly cross my path, but I digress…).

And yet, as I piece together this dreamy life, I’m not sure where/how the blog fits in. My attorney isn’t terribly happy that I have a blog (though she’s thankful that it’s completely anonymous). I’m quite sure that Xifey (or at least her attorney) is printing posts to use in court. It’s caused fighting and struggle and custody questions. If custody is actually at stake, there is no doubt that I’ll delete the entire 3 years of posting in an instant. [poof. gone.] As the blog has become more personal, I’ve lost a lot of my favorite readers, and I’ve gained new favorites. I’ve nearly stopped posting photos of knitting. I’ve stopped responding to comments. This is not the blogger I want to be.

This is all a long and depressing way of saying that as a celebration of my 3rd blogiversary, I’m going to take a break. ‘Tis a bittersweet celebration. It feels selfish to stop now, when I’ve received so much support from this community.

Please forgive me for being so selfish. Because I feel guilty about it, here’s some eye candy in the form of drafted Visions of Revenge, a Rabbitch stroke of genius.

One More Saturday Night*

For some odd reason, I haven’t been spinning for the last few months. But today, after going to see Nemo on Ice with Little Man, he requested that we make a robot costume. Random? Yeah. Apparently his dress-up box is not complete without a robot costume. Who knew? He drew a picture of what the robot should look like, and insisted that we make it out of fabric, as opposed to paper. Even Little Man understands that fabric will wear better. So, one old pillow case with head and arm holes, some fabric scraps and some fusible interfacing later, the robot costume was complete (including my colander as a hat – his idea). Then, he insisted that we make a ghost costume. This was easier: old sheet + strategic holes = happy boy. Then we made brownies (No-Pudge which are surprisingly tasty) and he suggested that we smash some almonds and sprinkle them on top. I have no illusion that this was purely cooking creativity on his part. He just really loves this gadget and begs to chop something every time we cook. After the mid-afternoon brownie attack, I figured we should eat something healthy for dinner, so I set off to make baked sweet potato fries and turkey burgers. It’s a tricky way to get a vegetable into a 4-year-old. In fact, I’m thinking about cutting parsnips and broccoli and squash into french fry shapes. Though I shouldn’t complain because he tried edamame last night and liked it!

Anywho … while I was busy cooking, Little Man went over to Cheryl’s spinning wheel and started treadling. He does this with some regularity, but the drive band has been too loose to get the flyer going, and he gets upset about this. Apparently tonight was the night that a loose drive band was no longer acceptable to the wee one. He insisted that I fix it. I’m not kidding. He kept saying:

“Mom. You need to fix this. I want to make yarn. If you don’t fix this, I can’t make yarn.”

Who can argue with logic like that? So I fixed it. And we played with the wheel, and then the yarn winder, and then the lazy kate, and then the other wheel (because he wanted to see the brown alpaca fiber (not kidding!)), and then … before we knew it, the living room looked like this:

Which is good, because Kellee proposed the most incredible trade — her beautiful Traveler + stool in exchange for my sweaty labor expertise in home renovations. I’m not sure about the expertise bit, but thanks to Ms. 1890, I can scrape and spackle ceilings like a pro. I guess she needs some ceilings done. So we have a deal, and I couldn’t be happier.

This means that Cheryl’s Traveler is going to the next victim home and Julia’s Joy is going to the next victim home. With departures pending, Little Man’s spurt of creativity was perfectly timed, because I have several full bobbins of practice singles hanging around. So I spent the evening plying, and it was good.

Not so balanced 2 ply, before its bath

My first attempt at Navajo Plying, thanks to this video, also crazy unbalanced and pre-bath

After bathing and hanging that yarn, I started throwing lustful glances at Rabbitch’s Visions of Revenge. Perhaps I’ll just pre-draft a little of it.

It’s good to be back at the wheel.

Motivation comes from the most unexpected places. Thanks, Little Man.

*extra points if you know where the title comes from*

It’s National Spank Danielle Day!

Otherwise known as her 30th Birthday!

Go give her a spanking.

As soon as I see her at the office, there will be spanking, and quite possibly, photos. 

“hello, HR?  hi.  there’s a hostile work environment in formation on the 6th floor.  could you come up here, please? thanks.”