I Will Not Allow My Personal Technological Shortcomings to Affect My Ability to be a Good Ravelry-er

I love Ravelry, I really, really do. For those of you who have been living at the Idaho Knitter’s Separatist Camp (And no, the U.S. Government will not recognize the independent state of Yarnia no matter how many of you hole up there. Those in power have been infected with the most virulent strain of i-have-no-idea-what-normal-people-have-to-do-to-survive-itis colloquially referred to as Beltway Amnesia, so I doubt they will cave to pointy stick wielding peeved people.) with no internet access or contact with the rest of the knitting world, Ravelry is like a Facebook or My Space for knitters and other fiber enthusiasts. You set up an account and then put in your stash, your works in progress, your patterns, basically your whole knitting life.

That is if you are a good “Ravelry-er”.

I am not a good “Ravelry-er”. (I bow down and admit my debt of gratitude to those of you who are good Ravelry-ers as you make my favorite parts of Ravelry the greatest!) I do not have my stash photographed and catalogued. I do not have my WIPs photographed and catalogued. I do not have my knitting library catalogued. Basically, I just hang around in my groups and see what the other, more with it Ravelry-ers have done.

I decided that perhaps I should embrace my inner Ravelry-er and at least make an attempt at feigning hip, knitter coolness – it can’t all be Vera Bradley, Crocs, Birkenstocks, and smart phones. I managed to get a picture posted for my Ravelry identity – rubiconkimberly – a miniature of one of my favorite Maxfield Parish paintings. That took about an hour. First I had to find the picture, then I had to figure out how to put it up in my profile. I like technology. It doesn’t mean that I am all that great at figuring out how to use it.

To paraphrase Darryl Hannah’s character in Steel Magnolias, I will not allow my personal technological shortcomings to affect my ability to be a good Ravelry-er any longer.

So, this past weekend, Hubby and I went to my parents for a belated celebration of my mom’s birthday. I packed my new favorite bag with a bunch of my knitting accouterments and the camera so I could take some pictures. My parents’ house has great, natural lighting. Mine does not. I laid out my WIPs and took some pictures. An hour and a half later, I had my first WIP and item in my stash photographed, catalogued, and uploaded. I felt triumphant and like Murtaugh in Lethal Weapon – too old for this s---.

I am rapidly concluding that learning new technology is for the preschoolers among us as they don’t yet bear any animus towards Bill Gates, Microsoft logic, Internet Service Providers, hardware interfaces that are more in your face than interface, get brain cramps when it seems that the drop functionality in drag and drop is a myth or want to cry when plug and play is all plug and no play.

I am also learning that although I have all the trappings of the hip, sophisticated post-Reagan borners – a laptop, iPod, and smart phone – I am definitely not one of them. In short, I am a techie poser who at times in made painfully aware of that fact.

Knitting is a low-tech hobby in a high tech world. The way we get patterns may change. The way we get yarn, its fiber content, and dye method may change. The needles we use may one day be made of some high tech polymer that allows you to program in a stitch and row gauge and automatically adjust the needle diameter so you get the gauge you want. With all of that, it will still be basically two sticks and string. Thank the Knitting Muse!