So I had all these grand ideas and plans when I started this blog.
I had so much inspiration and excitement and I knew in my head exactly how things were supposed to look and go. I was supposed to take beautifully composed pictures of incredible things I'd made, and post them in a timely manner, accompanied by witty banter and clear, concise explanations. I was supposed to take incredible photos that captured my everyday life in an artful and interesting way. On top of that, I was supposed to actually do interesting things. I was supposed to have this clean, minimal, modern blog design that would just pop together. I'd find a simple way to procure photoshop and then I'd take a quick, informal crash course, and be self sufficient for the majority of my design needs. My wonderful, artistic boyfriend would be able to whip up a logo that looks exactly like the one in my head, in time for a charming sunday brunch. I'd get a fair number of posts up and then start sharing my blog with friends, family and communities I aspired to be a part of on the internet. Maybe someday my blog would be a comfortable side income and people would pay me to putz around with my sewing machine and a glue gun.
None of these things happened.
Or I should say, none of these things have happened yet. This is hardly surprising, given how unbelievably absurd all those things look when written down. From even an inch away, nearly anyone can see they are mostly wishful thinking held together by gossamer strands of total naiveté and blind hope. And, if the last 8 weeks are anything to go by, almost zero actual effort.
I love making things. In the last 8 weeks, I've hand painted a set of bamboo serving spoons, quilted a pot holder, concocted some hand scrubs, finished one quilt top and am halfway through another, hemmed a pair of jeans, learned to repair holes in knit clothing, upholstered a bench, sewn 5 faux leather bottomed clutches, a weighted yoga bag with a handle, 4 burp cloths, a felt turtle stuffie, 3 kindle covers, a tablet cover, 2 gathered skirts, 2 envelope pillows, a few grocery bags (and a partridge in a pear tree). Clearly the making of things is something I've got down.
What I don't have down is the documenting part. Almost every time I made something, I wouldn't remember until after I was finished to take pictures of the damn thing. I also realized that after I had a finished product, I wasn't really interested in doing it again to document how it should be done. Inevitably the first time I made something, I would have to unpick seams, or recut pieces, and I hardly thought my botched attempts were worthy of publishing.
And then I realized that THIS is the point. I cannot write about a perfectly staged and orchestrated life BECAUSE I DO NOT HAVE ONE. My life is messy. I screw up tutorials, and unpick seams, and throw out batches of undercooked banana bread (because good lord, bananas are all different sizes and a big vs. small banana makes a huge difference in cooking time, and no where on any recipe does it tell you that piece of really important information).
But everyone's life is messy. And lying about my messy life to make all of you think I'm way more together than I actually am does two things I don't want. 1. It makes it seem like my life is different, or somehow superior to yours. If I only showed you the most perfect takes of my life, I'd be telling you I silently judge you from my corner of the internet for not being as "effortlessly together" as I am. How horrible and mean and unwelcoming is that? And 2. I'd be befriending you with a mask on. I'd be denying the opportunity for a real connection and relationship because the person you'd learn about through this blog would only bear a passing resemblance to me. You'd miss all the accidentally awesome moments in an imperfectly curated life.
So here's my promise: I will post more often. About what my life ACTUALLY LOOKS LIKE, and not how I'd like it to look. When I tell (and hopefully show) you that I've made something, I will also tell you everything I did that you should probably not do (like not unzipping the zipper you just sewed in, so you can't even turn the beautiful lined back you just made). I will be real and messy and as authentic as I can be. And I hope you come back for it. Because this is what life looks like. And my happy home really isn't so different from your happy home.