Sometimes I wonder if I wouldn’t have made a bomb-ass housewife. You know, cooking (check), bringing up kids (check), community work (check) but no job (well…) and a few lovely hobbies (check) instead. I very much doubt I’d have been bored. A solid fine arts education gives you a wide enough horizon to be an interested human being, after all. Maybe I’d practice piano again. Or sign up for Arabic classes like I’ve been wanting to do. Ha. I bet the very thought of a stay-at-home-mom daughter would have made my brainy mother and her women’s lib generation shudder. But as my fabulous and equally brainy sister-in-heart A. pointed out, that generation fought for us having the choice as well as the opportunities. She’s right – and it was what I needed to hear when she said that, as I’d been struggling with the whole ‚OMG why did I not make more of the chances I was given in life‘ … in connection with the big 5-0 approaching. Anyway, that isn’t how things have worked out for me, and that’s fine. I get to do things that I love, which is anything but a given.
Where did this train of thought come from anyway? It’s my friend A.’s fault. She asked me for a lasagna recipe earlier today, and since I already wrote mine down a while back, all I needed to do was point her here. And then she said, Jeez, when do you even find the time to write all this stuff? Which made me feel like a weirdo. I’m certainly not an artist by any stretch. I don’t feel compelled to tell stories like I imagine authors do, I have no fictional characters in my head, I’m not plotting any story arcs, and I don’t think my musings and pics posted here are of great importance. And yet I find the whole blogging experience gratifying, and when I’ve done a good job with a post, I feel reasonably proud of it, in much the same way I feel happy with a piece of knitting or crochet that turned out well. Obviously it’s a time-consuming hobby, and sitting my butt down to write a post seriously cuts down on my free time, for unlike with crafts, I can’t really do anything else while writing. I guess you’d have to be a blogger yourself to understand why I do it. I certainly didn’t get it before I started this blog, even though there were a few bloggers I was following. It’s a mystery I won’t be solving tonight, that’s for sure, as I need to go put my kid to bed, stat.
An hour later. Kids. When you have them, they rule your life. Seeing that my mood has changed completely in the meantime, I’ll just continue this post with remembering one of the coldest Easters in years. But the crazy weather did make for some amazing light – magic, right?
My current crafts WIP is a pair of socks, for my friend S. in Frankfurt. Yesterday was her birthday, and I was going to finish the socks before that. I bought the yarn in good time, but I swear it took me 3 days to decide on a color scheme. I even did a color survey on Instagram because I just couldn’t make up my mind: Despite sound advice, I still wasn’t happy with any of the choices. I ended up trying out quite a few things – I don’t think I ever ripped up so many swatches. When I’d had it with that, I decided that stripies were the way to go, and here’s what that led to: I’ll finish the socks tonight so I can mail them to my friend tomorrow. She’s an alternative medicine practitioner, with beautiful long honey-blond hair and amazing eyes, blue and green and some grey – and I seem to remember she wears white to work, so I hope the socks will go well with her coloring. They’re made of a soft merino mix (mint green) and the downiest baby merino yarn (off-white). I think they’re really pretty in a retro kind of way, and also they feel really snuggly. Handmade socks warm your heart from the feet up, don’t they ;-)?
The rest of my week looks kind of crazy, wish me luck with not dropping too many of the balls I need to juggle. I guess that’s what you get for being brought up with the notion that since you can do it all, that’s what you’re supposed to do, too … No wonder people all suffer from burn-out syndrome these over-achieving days!
Stay sane, stitch readers, and remember to breathe.