There are 2 things that made me decide to finally go ahead and start a blog: Ravelry and a really big, scary roach.
You see, I've resisted blogging because I'm allegedly writing a novel, on top of working full time and having a reasonably-active social life and all that. Blogging would just take time away from the novel writing. I even put off buying a digital camera because I knew that if I had one, the urge to knitblog would become irresistible. And then no novel writing would get done.
Mind you, there has been barely any novel writing to speak of since Sept '06. Between then and now, I've gotten engaged, moved, started a new job and am planning a wedding. Planning to write and then not having the energy just would've led to more stress and so I had to cut myself some slack. His Awesomeness and I have agreed that next year he's going to try to make a feature film and I'll be able to work on my novel, so I definitely have a plan to get back on the wagon.
I should've just given in to the urge to blog months ago, so that I could've been writing something, anything during all this time. But I am a Woman of Great Stubbornness and I guess I didn't want to take time away from Not Working on the Novel.
But then I got my invite to Ravelry and it was just as awesome as they say, but since I didn't have any pictures to post, I felt like that kid in junior high with tape on their glasses who gets picked last for teams in gym class. And since I already was that kid when I was in junior high, I decided to go ahead and get a digital camera now rather than wait a couple of months to get one for the honeymoon.
I absolutely had to take pictures of my yarn because all the other kids had done it. Perhaps a more apt metaphor would've been the last girl in class to get Capezios. Except, of course, that photographs of yarn will never go out of style.
As soon as the camera was ordered, I started saying out loud that I might start a blog. I knew the camera would be my gateway drug and so it has been. No one even tried to talk some sense into me.
And the giant roach? I was sitting at the iMac last night, adding projects to my Ravelry queue when I heard a scritchy noise. I looked up a couple of times, but didn't see the cause. Until I looked up the third time and saw a big roach crawling up the side of a box about a foot away from my leg. It may even have been bigger than the bug I paid my brother $20 to kill when we were teenagers. It was probably as long as my middle finger.
And no, I didn't think to give it the finger. It's just as well. That might have angered it and the critter looked big enough to carry me away in its jaws.
Now, I lived alone for about 10 years, during which I dealt with a variety of bugs and mice, both living and deceased. But since the Great Shacking Up of Aught Seven, I defer all bug-related activity to His Awesomeness.
I used to be so capable, so butch, so un-spueamish. And now I just run out of the room, yell, "Bug!" and he comes and deals with it. I am a wuss because I can be.
Afterwards, after heaping many accolades upon my hero, I thought of the name, "His Awesomeness" and decided that now that I had a clever nickname for the man, I really had no excuse not to blog. He's not really a Hubbo or a Husbeast, and actual pet names are too cute for public consumption. So there's that settled.
So here we go.