(As a side note, Ted Myatt, of Knitterguy fame, designed and knit the stole I'm wearing here, just for me, to boost me up when I was going through rough times. It's a marvel of Shetland gorgeousness, he's the most talented lace knitter I know, and I'm so lucky to be able to wear his work.)
So, who knows if you'll want to stick around the same way you did with the old blog, but I hope you'll enjoy what I plan to do here. To welcome us both—me as your host and you as my readers (all three of you!)—here's a little preview of what to expect from Knot Good.
First and foremost, Fuzzy Logic is dead. It is not resting, nor is it stunned. It is no more. It has ceased to be. It's expired and gone to meet its maker...you know the drill. Fuzzy Logic is an Ex-Blog. You can't visit it. You can't even nail it to the perch. Trust me, it's better that way.
I know, it's sad. But I still have photos of the heinous things I made for my daughter, at her request, when she was young. I still have a tendency to spin in public and freak people out. I still swear. (I know, I know. Motherhood is not the grand profanity eraser it's cracked up to be.) And I still have an enormous scar running down the side of my head from the Great Head-Opening Experiment. The rest, well...
I've had to move on. You'll note that my last name has changed. That's my maiden name, and it's the name I'll keep. In the interest of not dredging up the past or harming anyone, especially those I love, I would prefer not to answer questions about anything personal from the Fuzzy Logic era, unless you want to know basic fibre-related (or close) details, such as the gauge the surgeon got when he stapled my head back together. (5 staples to the inch. Worsted-weight stapling. Standard stuff.)
If you're coming here for the first time and you have absolutely no freaking clue what I'm going on about, I sympathise. I sometimes have the same problem.
Let me introduce myself: I'm Lee Ann Dalton, and I'm a knitter, a spinner, a poet, a writer, an editor, a Vogue Knitting columnist, a mother, a partner, and a diehard supporter of the serial comma. (Also, I don't sleep much.) The only thing you've missed was the surprise craniotomy. Trust me, it's a good thing for you to have missed. It was a little rough on the hairdo, I'm still slightly klutzy and have to write everything down, and I'm a tiny bit misshapen, skull-wise, if you look very, very close. Other than that, I'm okay. The aneurysm is gone. You can see the clamp using an airport scanner, but I have yet to be accused of being a brain terrorist. (There's still time.)
Part of my moving on has also involved becoming an athlete. (Holy hell, did I really just say that? Yes, I guess I did...). You'll hear a fair bit about fibre arts here, but you'll also be witness to my ever-developing adventure as a runner. When I was a kid, I was the very last person to cross any finish line and the very first person to huck up a lung in the process. As an adult, I struggled to include some kind of exercise in my life, and wasn't so successful at sticking to it. But after the surgery and a few other awful life-moments, I started running.
It was a slow process, becoming a runner. I went from stress-reduction flailing around the block at midnight, hoping that no one would see me cry or, worse, jiggle, to running a full marathon in the fall of 2010. 4:59. My surgeon could hardly believe I even bothered to run the full block, but there you go. I'm wicked stubborn, and anything I can do to get the neurons to keep speaking to each other helps a lot. It nearly killed me to finish the marathon, but I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
In fact, this summer, I will do it again. In July, heaven help me and the creek don't rise, I will run the Mad Marathon. I'm not a fast runner, but by god, I can go long. Mind you, with all the life-changing I'm doing this year, I'm giving myself the "out" of transferring to the half-marathon. A half requires far less of the mental game of "Noooooo, I am not going to sit on this curb and cry..." and I may need that option. Big changes ahead.
Some of you may remember Twinkletoes. She's moved on, too, namewise, and prefers to be called variations on a theme of Tigidou, which means a-okay in Quebecois. She is big enough to wear my clothes. My red jeans have been missing for weeks. But the knitting for the Tigger? Not so much of that. Everything still itches, so we're sticking to polar fleece and fake fur for now. I'm still hopeful that we'll turn her on to knitting, though, and then she can pick any yarny variation on a theme of Pretty Pony Puke she wants.
I still knit, and I've even washed, combed, spun, and knit up a hogget CVM fleece into various little items. There will be more of that featured on this blog, for certain, because it's a very rewarding experience to go from shit-laden fleece to a delicate little lace bookmark. And someday, I'll learn to shear so that I can go from shearing to sweater. I'll keep you posted on the progress with various sharp instruments. I don't have such a good reputation with them, as they have tended to land me in the emergency room, but I'm working on that.
Another feature I am extremely happy to have here is the occasional cartoon. Some of the little sheepies you will see scattered around the blog are drawn by none other than Tigidou. (You'll know them by the little T next to each one. She wants to help me with the design. We're a family-run operation around here. I just have to cover her eyes and ears when I swear. All her unused knitwear is really good for that.)
The full cartoons, and a few other little sheepie tidbits besides, are drawn by the very talented and ridiculously funny Justin Kane. He picked up a pencil one day recently and, much to his surprise, drew my blog banner. (He was aware that he was drawing, thankfully. He just had no idea he'd also be roped into being my permanent illustrator with that one little cartoon.) I'll be featuring a Kane cartoon on the blog on a regular basis. Side benefit: he doesn't understand why anyone wouldn't wear wool. SCORE! I'll be stash-spinning and knitting for him for a long, long time. Especially since he knows the importance of posing to show the decreases. Take a bow, Jus...
I will be periodically singing the praises of artisans whose products and creations I love and use (Yes, really. No one's giving me anything to advertise, and if I talk about it, it's because I bought it and I love it. I like supporting small farms, independent artisans, and other creative types who are trying to make a living via their craft). I'll also do the occasional fibre arts book review, with my usual smartass approach. And I'll be announcing fibre events that may not get much publicity (and didn't make the deadline for the column I write).
Finally, I plan to test-drive various ways to create new knitters. I've got two
This is going to be fun. I'm happy to still be kicking around, and it's good to see you again. So, why "Knot Good?" I'm glad you asked.
Honey, life is too short to come unstrung thanks to a crappy knot. And when it comes to being "good," I am, clearly,...
Knot. (Rimshot.) Welcome aboard. We'll be here all week. Don't forget your waitress.
