She’s Crafty! (or not)

The great pre-move purge continues and today was my reckoning with what I like to call my “crafty” side. My office furniture includes a hutch that can store a surprising amount of loot, and over the years, I’ve done a smashing job of filling it and a couple of closets with the evidence that I am a sucker for DIY.

It started innocently enough. I subscribed to Martha Stewart Living and Real Simple magazines. I’d “borrow” my mom’s Southern Living and occasionally I’d peruse Better Homes and Gardens in line at the grocery store. And then came HGTV and Pinterest. Hell, even Buzzfeed’s in on the crafty action. Couple all these ideas with my personality flaw of really, really believing I can do anything (yes-anything!) and you have a mess in the making. I so wanted to be crafty.

I’d read an article, for example, ‘Sew Your Own Reusable Grocery Bags!’ and the next thing I knew, I’d be standing in the middle of AC Moore, JoAnn or Michael’s with a list in one hand and a basket in the other while I gathered the requisite supplies. It was almost as if I entered a fugue state after I was inspired by the glossy photographic evidence of a professional crafter’s handiwork. Everything seemed both dreamy and exciting until I realized that the directions weren’t clear enough for me to figure out how to thread a bobbin, if that’s even what’s it’s called. I dunno. This is how I ended up with a very nice sewing machine that’s never been used.

There have been a number of crafty phases, some more successful that others. I did make a headboard that I still love to this day, but I realize that a sloth with a staple gun could have done the same thing. I’m pretty good with paint (as long as it’s one color), I can knit (scarves only!) and I’m especially fond of anything that requires the use of a glue gun. I’ve had some epic fails as well. Making my own yogurt is an endeavor that my husband still teases me about, and I’m the only person I know who has managed to short out a Dremel while trying to make her dog a custom-height feeding station.

As the evidence of craftytimes past piled up in a corner of the basement, I experienced a new personal truth. I had accumulated a bunch of stuff in hopes to somehow make myself feel like those smiling people in the Home Depot commercials after they finish a project. In reality, I enjoyed very few of the projects I embarked on once I realized that they were more time-consuming or more difficult than I had anticipated. I was a poseur thinking that my personal enlightenment was just one hand-stenciled pillowcase away. I remain in awe of my friend C who is a whiz with a sewing machine and my friend S who makes museum-quality greeting cards. I wish I were more like them, but acceptance of who you truly are is indeed easier after 40. I’m just going to concentrate on coloring within the lines from here on out.

Therefore, in an effort to downsize and acknowledging the fact that I really was a C student in Art, I promise myself the following:  All the craft crap is going in the garage sale. I am no longer allowed to read craft porn or bookmark ideas (see above magazines and websites) and I may only enter craft stores during December, which will now be my crafty month.

But…I’m keeping my safety glasses, just in case.

Safety First!