Upon my bed is a pile of yarn.
That feels more like the start of a poem than a blog post, but I like it.
One of my favorite things to do is start creative projects. And, like many people who most enjoy starting creative projects, my follow through leaves something to be desired. Which means I have more raw material than I have ever transformed into finished product. And this has only been kept in check by ruthless routine purges, otherwise I would have surely drowned in fabric and paper by now. I got the yarn out because my son was amazed to learn I can knit. So I figured it was high time I knit him something for Christmas.
Out poured the yarn. And with it out poured all my wildest knitting fantasies. All the ambitious projects I’ve kept swirling perpetually in a space outside of space, and all the delicious inspiration they send coursing through my veins.
I am overwhelmed with opportunity. Transfixed by possibility. I don’t have time to make them all. Where should I begin?
I unearthed this part of myself to make a present for my son, so it’s only right I start there. And, let’s be very clear, it’s been a minute since you actually, you know, made anything. So rein in the ambition.
Hooded scarf with rainbow dino plates it is, then. Good. Now ride that ecstatic, inspired momentum until it escapes while you’re washing the dishes.