Not Knitting

Not far from where we live, there is a nice neighborhood shopping street, with lots of stores for people with disposable income. One is a yarn store offering knitting classes. Every time I walked by, there would be a delicious new sweater in the window, and finally I went in and put myself on their mailing list. I wanted to take a knitting class. I had this idea that I would happily sit in the evening and knit, creating funky sweaters to make my wardrobe more interesting, making holiday gifts, and fuzzy hats for my toddler. I got their newsletter. The classes were offered only at times people with highly flexible jobs could make. I waited, hoping the class times would rotate from season to season. They didn't. But every time I walked by the yarn shop I was convinced I would soon learn to knit.

Then I had a minor epiphany. I'm busy, so busy with my job and kid that I've given up doing things -- like baking -- I really used to enjoy. Why would I take on something new? Rather, I needed a way to return to or expand my old hobbies.

And that's partly what I had hoped for from a blog (and now NaBloPoMo) -- that this would provide me the space to write as a hobby. I write as part of my job, but it isn't always fun writing, and I miss feeling that writing is fun, the way I felt writing stories in third grade. And if I still feel, at the end of November, I need a new hobby, I'm going to sign up for a letterpress class.

Not knitting. I'll have to buy the fuzzy caps.