|The Inmates - Easter 2005|
|Foghorn - Easter 2015|
So, with my main writing material gone and people not interested in a blog composed of nothing but my knitting projects (I'm not that talented of a knitter), what do I write about? I'm not overly fascinating. I don't do a whole lot. I've become that stereotypical 40-ish woman (I refuse to say I'm middle aged) whose kids don't really need her anymore or, more accurately, have nothing but disdain for her, who raised kids instead of having a job, and now finds herself saying, "What the hell do I do with the next four decades?!?" The obvious answer should be do all that writing that you haven't done in the last 16+ years because you've been raising children. Yeah, except I'm not sure I want to do that anymore. Getting published always was hard (as evidenced by the millions of hours of my life spent writing and the relatively small amount of published pieces I have to show for it) and it's arguably harder now than ever. I have trouble doing something without a purpose. No, I don't get paid for knitting, but I have a finished product I can be happy with, that I can gift to friends or relatives (or friends' dogs) or charities. I'm not just producing something that will sit in a drawer. My history of writing feels like I've knit 721 scarves...and they're all in Rubbermaid bins stuffed in the bedroom closet. I'm not sure I have the ambition it takes to try to get published anymore. It seems like such a sad waste of effort when I could be doing something productive like knitting while binge-watching Mad Men on Netflix.
While I haven't figured all that out yet one thing I did realize is that if I don't write something with some regularity, my ability to put two cohesive sentences together might leave me entirely. Thus my reason for this post. Or I may have just wanted to publicly whine about my kids. I do like to do that...a lot. No, fear not, my intention is not to turn this blog into endless posts about my midlife crisis and search for self. I'd write a book about it but, hey, the bookstore shelves are full of those already. It'll just be my usual blog, but without as many stories of my children. Hmmmmm...feel free to unsubsribe now.
|They never should have introduced me to|
Fireball Cinnamon Whiskey