I should so be sleeping – firstly I’m a new mom and I should always be sleeping when my baby is sleeping. Secondly, we spent the day at the beach and we’re all exhausted. But I feel like I need to get this post out and late at night might be my only time to do it.

To start, I want to thank everyone that left such thought provoking and generous comments. I promise I wasn’t trying to be provocative, I was just elaborating on an off hand comment I wrote the other day. I’ve read all your comments and have taken them to heart. Here’s what I’m thinking:

EVOLUTION: I think you’re absolutely right – blogs evolve. They have never and probably will never be any kind of static platform. Just as we evolve as humans (we hope), how we communicate will most likely evolve. I used words like suffer and death and I think they are appropriate in all kinds of evolution. Things change – something gives, something dies. I’m beginning to think that my lamentations on knitblogs, per se, has a lot more to do with me and my life than the actual state of knitblogging. My life has changed so much over the past year – immeasurably so – that it’s only natural that I’d want some things to stay the same. My blog changed, and it seems everyone else’s changed too and I miss how things were. I guess I’m still grieving for the blogger I once was; I was always very proud to be carry the label knitblogger, then someone called me a mommy blog the other day and honestly I cringed. I’m not ready to change my moniker. I’ve got almost 300 feeds on my bloglines list and maybe 50 are something other than knitting blogs. I suffered from infertility, yet I have maybe one or two infertility blogs on my list – and that’s because they were both knitters. I have a couple mommy-ish blogs – but really they’re about products – not people. When I found knitting blogs I found my home. Now I sort of feel adrift at sea. Melodramatic, perhaps, but it’s how I feel. And I fully believe you should feel what you feel.

RAVELRY, et al: I’m (one of) the biggest Ravelry hypocrites out there. I have no problem browsing for patterns or checking out what yarns people have used for a particular pattern for WAY too long, but I haven’t updated my projects on there after the my first initial posts. So I’m using the database, but not contributing too it. Honestly, the minute I heard about Ravelry I took the position of Chicken Little. And when I heard there would be forums? Ugh. I’ve spent my share of Internet time on forums and honestly I’ve seen nothing good come of it. In fact, I’ve seen a lot of ugliness. But there’s no denying that change is good and welcome and inevitable. I’ve benefited from Ravelry just like the next knitter or crocheter or spinner. I just can’t be a contributer – it’s not for me. Same goes with Flickr. I never had a Flickr account until I started my Ravelry account and that’s not for me either. Photography is a HUGE part of my life, but it’s also a job for me and something just doesn’t feel right about my pictures on Flickr. I’m sure this is an ignorant bias on my part that someone will surely point out, but again. It’s not for me. Same thing with a lot of these other internet tools. The fact is I’m a blogger. It suits me very well. I love to write and I love to take the pictures I need to take and I like having the control to do what I want with my words and photographs. The fact that I have an audience makes it all that much better, but I’ve realized these last few months that I’d be here regardless.

The bottom line is I’ve allowed myself tremendous growth in so many areas of my life, that now I’m going to feel free to let my blog grow. From now on I’m going to disavow any and all labels – I’m no longer a knit blogger or a mommy blogger or a photo blog or an infertility blog. This blog is me. All the parts of me. For better or worse.

Thank you all, again, as always, for coming along for the ride.

The first year I posted a poem about infertility. This year things are different.

First Birth

I had thought so little, really, of her,
inside me, all the time, not breathing–
intelligent, maybe curious,
her eyes closed. When the vagina opened,
slowly, from within, from the top, my eyes
rounded in shock and awe, it was like being
entered for the first time, but entered
from the inside, the child coming in
from the other world. Enormous, stately,
she was pressed through the channel, she turned, and rose,
they held her up by a very small ankle,
she dangled indigo and scarlet, and spread
her arms out in this world. Each thing
I did, then, I did for the first
time, touched the flesh of our flesh,
brought the tiny mouth to my breast,
she drew the avalanche of milk
down off the mountain, I felt as if
I was nothing, no one, I was everything to her, I was hers.

Sharon Olds. The Wellspring, 1996

For more information about the Bloggers (Silent) Poetry Reading, celebrated each year on February 2, go here.

On my way home from Lawn Guyland yesterday, exasperated by perceived slights, real slights, sleights of hand I said to myself, Chica (I call myself Chica – just trying to keep it real) this blog thing is very very important in your life, but is it worth all this stress? Honesty. It’s such a lonely word. It is worth the agita?

I said, yeah, I think it is. But how to know for sure?

Chica, I said, let’s take the decision out of our hands. Let’s let GOD decide. If we should see a rainbow today, that ultimate sign of peace and harmony and unicorns, then we’ll keep blogging! Chica wholeheartedly agreed.

It was a kind of tense train trip. What was the likelihood of a rainbow? Sure it was kind of overcast and looked like it could rain at any minute. The conditions COULD be right for a rainbow. Maybe. Did we, Chica and me, even really BELIEVE in signs?

As I walked to the shuttle after taking two regional train lines, lugging my big bag and my wheel bag, permanent indentations carving their way into my shoulders, I tried to avoid a puddle and almost falling on my ass, I caught a glimpse of something sparkly in the sky.

Chica! I gasped. God has answered our prayers. Look, out yonder, it’s a RAINBOW!

The blog stays.

Thank you all so much for your emails and comments and notes of support. I’m hoping to get back to each of you that wrote, but it might take me a bit. I appreciate it for me, but really I appreciate it that you all care so much about truth in advertising. I am what I am and I’d hate to feel like I have to change that or censor it or anything. One note though – it’s been mentioned a few times that maybe my yarn store review was what prompted the Yarn Harlot’s impassioned post of the other day. I can pretty much tell you unequivocally that the two situations have absolutely NOTHING to do with each other. Unfortunately, I’m guessing that Stephanie’s talking about something that happened TO her, not passing judgment on what I wrote.

I’ve got to apologize again. When I wrote about the reveal, I meant my new project. Not my new PROJECT. That project, with a capital P, is gonna be a little while longer.

Clue #3
Click for big. (Do IT!)

Thank you again for your readership. I’m fully aware that a lot of these problems wouldn’t exist if no one was reading my blog, so it’s kind of a good with the bad situation. I do appreciate your being here – ridiculous opinions and everything. 😉 (I KID, It’s a JOKE!)

Hopefully, Monday, we can get back to the knitting. No promises though. Life is kind of crazy at the moment. Duh.
Have a great weekend!
L, C

PS – It’s true – I did thinking about closing up shop, but rainbow or no rainbow, I’m not giving up anytime soon. I actually like my blog. A lot. And I would really really miss it (and by extension all of you) if it was gone. It does take a lot of energy and time though and I often think about stopping. For now, though, the good certainly outweighs the bad.

in keeping with a theme….

Kissing

They are kissing, on a park bench,
on the edge of an old bed, in a doorway
or on the floor of a church. Kissing
as the streets fill with balloons
or soldiers, locusts or confetti, water
or fire or dust. Kissing down through
the centuries under sun or stars, a dead tree,
an umbrella, amid derelicts. Kissing
as Christ carries his cross, as Gandhi
sings his speeches, as a bullet
careens through the air toward a child’s
good heart. They are kissing,
long, deep, spacious kisses, exploring
the silence of the tongue, the mute
rungs of the upper palate, hungry
for the living flesh. They are still
kissing when the cars crash and the bombs
drop, when the babies are born crying
into the white air, when Mozart bends
to his bowl of soup and Stalin
bends to his garden. They are kissing
to begin the world again. Nothing
can stop them. They kiss until their lips
swell, their thick tongues quickening
to the budded touch, licking up
the sweet juices. I want to believe
they are kissing to save the world,
but they’re not. All they know
is this press and need, these two-legged
beasts, their faces like roses crushed
together and opening, they are covering
their teeth, they are doing what they have to do
to survive the worst, they are sealing
the hard words in, they are dying
for our sins. In a broken world they are
practicing this simple and singular act
to perfection. They are holding
onto each other. They are kissing.

Dorianne Laux
from What We Carry

For more information about the Blogger (Silent) Poetry Reading, please click here. Please feel free to post a poem today that touches you in some way – be it your own, or someone else’s. Have a great weekend!