The road to hell is paved with good intentions. I had every intent to keep a journal, particularly a journal about my crochet endeavours, of all things to blog about, (I wouldn't've created one if I didn't), but I got a little distracted:
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Okay, I'm not saying that getting knocked up is a valid excuse for a person's life to stop, nor am I saying that my life did stop. I just didn't have anything relevant to say. About crochet. I mean, I was trying to churn out Christmas presents early because I knew that when I popped in November, there would be no time and too much fatigue. No one wants to hear about the beige afghan or the standard socks (I'm yawning just remembering them), so I've been quiet.

And, well, now there's this to keep me occupied:

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While the hooking has considerably slowed, something miraculous happened to whip me into shape and actually say something in this lovely medium: I received my complimentary copy of The Anticraft Book. It came to the house last week and I was thrilled to show my husband and tell my friends how famous I am (riiight), but then I felt guilty because, there it was in print, how to track me down...and that trail of bread crumbs leads to here, a place I haven't been in a long time, the evidence of which has long been deleted.

The good news is that the past has passed, and guilt has manifested into motivation...because I'm proud of my work, and I really ought to be doing more of it, despite the squirmy 10 week old in my arms. Besides, I've got some tricks up my sleeve that I'm eager to try out, and the book has provided me with a nice kick in the ass.

I can't promise that I'll be consistent, but I will promise to check in once and awhile.