It’s not usually a struggle for me, deciding what to talk about here. It’s a knitting blog, and I’m always (always) knitting, so… there ya go.
But there’s something in the room, now. Or rather, not in the room, and it’s getting in the way of my Rhinebeck post. I went. I had fun with new friends and old.
I bought yarn. A lot of yarn. Did I need a lot of yarn? Well, no, not really. Had I budgeted for a lot of yarn? You bet. And it was all lovely, every last yard.
(It will all be up on Ravelry over the next few days, if you’re curious.) And I made immense progress on the Tangled Yoke, and I finished Waterlily, and I have a gorgeous sock on the needles. But I can’t just post a chipper “oh my god it was so fun and I can’t wait for next year and I saw these 8 million people and here are some links to their blogs” post. I just can’t. It would be false. So instead, here’s an actual honest-to-goodness update on my life.
The day I left for Rhinebeck, I had a miscarriage. I was somewhere between 9 and 11 weeks pregnant, the dates are unclear. The week before, I’d seen a happy wiggling little proto-kid, steady heartbeat and all.
I’m really glad I went to Rhinebeck. It was really fun, I can’t wait for next year, and I did meet and spend time with some fabulous people. I’m excited about the knitting I’m doing right now, and excited about what I’m going to knit next, but I would feel like an ass if I just launched into all of that without a word. I have to be honest in this space, even if I’m usually pretty narrow in scope. So. There you have it. If I was oblivious to you at the festival, if I seemed sad or unfriendly, it wasn’t anything you did. It’s just where I was, this weekend.
Quite aside from me needing some time away from Monterey and the problems associated with it, Rhinebeck was the perfect place for me to go. There was something very healing and satisfying about spending an entire weekend devoted to a very creative endeavor that I also fully and completely control. If a sweater is not perfect, I can rip it out and re-do. I can very carefully choose exactly the right yarn, exactly the right buttons, exactly the right pattern. I can obsess over every stitch, fix mistakes as often as necessary, and wind up with a perfect object that will last a hundred years. So very, very unlike parenting. I craved the predictability, the control.
I’m absolutely going back, and I hope to see you there (and here) lots more in the future.