A madwoman's ramblings

I am knitting away like a madwoman on the still light tunic.  I managed to get almost 3 inches done!  With a pace like this, it might almost get done by Christmas.

It leaves me hours and hours of time to think and reflect and ponder the big and little things in the world, and it allows me to contemplate the state of things.  I thought of things I pin on pinterest much too much.

I rarely pin knitting.  when I do it is something that I haven't found yet on Revelry and I don't have time to search for it there.  Or stitch patterns.  I think I pinnned a few of those.  Generally though, the world is full of Ravelry and that is enough for knitting.

Pinterest started for me, earlier this year when I started working on my quilt (which is languishing).  It was a convenient way to keep track of where I saw something that looked possible for border treatments.  Then I noticed a pretty blue and white something and well it just sort of went nuts from there.  

A friend asked if I knew what tambour embroidery was and I started pinning embroidery of all kinds.  Some are things I would love to have time to do and some are just such pretty things I pop back just to look at them and admire them all over again.

I pin miniature things too.  Tiny things to create little worlds that sit as perfect unsullied moments in time.  I had to stop and ponder that for a good long while.  The idea of tiny perfect worlds goes right back to Friendly Giant and that little group of chairs around the fireplace as we all settled down to watch to the show.  

That is Pinterest in a nutsehll.  Pictures of tiny perfect worlds. The world in still life. Pretty blue and white rooms that would never stay so pure, deeply organized places and spaces that won't ever remain so, fashion that I like but would never ever wear, going back in time and forwards in time.  Pintrest is a place where you catalogue your feelings in pictures.  Pinterest, for the unwary could be a place where you feel like less because you know you will never live up to those perfectly staged moments.  

That is the thing you see.  Perfect moments are not life. Life is chaotic and loud and smelly and occasionally dirty and painful and joyous.  And it changes in the blink of an eye, usually in moments and events so small and so quiet that they slip you being aware of them unless you are sitting there waiting, watching it happen.

Here is to chaos and imperfection and noise and dirt and smelly messes. Here is to life with just a dash of dreams on the side.