Sneaking by to post
Thank you all for being so kind about my new pattern. I have a lot to learn, and I appreciate the great suggestions and tweaks. It's not too late if you have suggestions - I'd love to hear them.
I've been wrestling with a cold since late Saturday and I think I've finally beaten it into submission with Airborne, Sudafed and ibuprofen. However, the last time I checked, I can't call in sick to my day job. People around here still expect to eat, wear clean clothes and get to school on time. But my "bosses" are cute and entertaining, so I can't complain. My cold has made me melancholy and nostalgic though -- I miss my sister. I miss ALL of my sisters but especially my younger sister. I'm going to share some OLD photos of us -- the rest of the post might bore you, but at least the photos might distract you:
The main reason for my sneaking by to post is my wanting to talk about some of the thoughts I've had due to the ongoing dialogue at Hannabirke. I'm linking to the entire blog because I think I'd do a disservice by just linking to bits and pieces. In a nutshell, it's caused me to think more about my role and my clothing and how my clothing reflects my life. Since I became a (mostly) stay-at-home mom in 1997, I've relished my freedom from the tyranny of pantyhose and fully embraced my daily uniform - jeans and knits. I no longer need to dress to impress (professionally) but am focused more on function, utility, comfort. But I've decided to kick it up a notch and get rid of anything that doesn't reflect my style or color preferences. There are "reasons" but it's not all that deep to anybody but me -- and it relates to my desire to look closer to my chronological age. I'm thankful for my genes and my genetic predisposition to having good skin and hair and lack of "smile" lines, but I don't know that my choice to dress so much younger than I am is making me feel the way I want to feel. The changes are likely to be imperceptible, but when I walk into a room, I want to feel a certain way and carry myself a certain way . . . for ME. And although I can't control the impressions people form when they meet me, I can control some of my own details and choices. And I'm not fishing for compliments or feedback, but I am writing things down so that I follow through. It's always been my choice NOT to wear "mom" jeans and not to be "frumpy." I do those things for myself out of self-respect, and you wouldn't believe the things people feel that they can say to somebody who takes these pains -- they treat me as if I'm forming a revolt against womankind's right to be frumpy. I am not. It's my own choice and my own decision -- one that I made many years before it was even close to being an issue. NO FRUMP. EVER. My choices don't mean I am judging you. I would put on make-up every day whether I see anybody outside my home or not.
So if you've read this far, you're probably wondering how I extrapolated all that from somebody's blog entries and why I suddenly felt compelled to ruthlessly rid myself of half the clothes in my closet (already a sparse collection) -- it was because I couldn't move forward until I released what I didn't want. You've heard "don't think about what you don't want," right? There were several things hanging in my closet that were still making me think of what I didn't want. Basically, there are emotions attached to some of my things and until those things are released, I can't release the emotions.
It's also changed my mind about things I "thought" I wanted to knit. All of this is related, believe it or not. That's why I'm releasing stash - so I can move forward. And nothing is escaping this filtering process right now -- the knitting, the projects, the way I spend my time. The blog is here to stay, however -- I love writing here; it's not going anywhere and there will be no sudden disappearance. Thank you for hanging in there with me, for reading me, commenting and sharing.