Will you not take me to Funky-Ville?
Why doesn’t blogger every remember me? Is it my breath, something I said – ? I worry too much about this.
Today I funk out and start some new weird, wild and non-discussable projects. Knitting with stuff that god never intended knitting needles to touch. Still waiting to hear if the Baird Center will accept my site-specific proposal for a knitted sculpture hanging from one of the huge trees in Meadowlands Park here in South Orange. I’m torn – I want them to accept it, but I don’t want to do the work. Hmmmmm.
I’m astounded by the sheer number, breadth and humor of the other knitting blogs. It makes my head spin – and also makes me so happy to not feel alone. I swear, if one isn’t an old lady (THAT stereotype is out the door – I mean, older women aren’t even OLD LADIES anymore! Check out Carole King who is SIXTY and still so SEXY in the most life affirming way!) or a young chickie-thangie (under 25 and has never owned more than two bras at a time, or one bra and a pair of non-thong underwear) you’d think one was INVISIBLE to the major knitting world! Not really – I don’t really mean that – but it seems that the world sees a fad, runs to the fad, and then runs the other way (hopefully before the boat tips over). Those who stay in the center clinging to the kids are my hero(ines).