I have always been an artsy kind of person. From the moment I pulled a magenta Crayola crayon out of the crayon box with the fancy sharpener in the back. It wasn’t an easy road. You are made to believe that anyone with a glue gun and a pipe cleaner can be the queen of DIY. “Not so.”
At a young age, I borrowed my aunt’s sewing machine and lugged it to Jo-Ann’s fabric store every Saturday for lessons. I was obsessed. I had wanted my grandmother to teach me how to sew. However, she had immigrated here from Italy as a young girl and worked underage at a sweatshop sewing coats, so the joys of sewing were not high on her list. I was blinded with thoughts of fringe skirts and ricrac-lined anythings to even think beyond my own aspirations. When I came to her with my astounding enthusiasm I was met with the same look that Michael Corleone gave to Fredo. I probably should have been more sensitive than to ask her to relive her childhood nightmare. I had to find another route to get to the end of my sewing rainbow.
It’s a curse to want to create. I would walk through Michaels Crafts and get equally excited and overwhelmed at the same time. My mind would get all jumbled with thoughts of glitter, paint, fabric, etc. There is too much stuff to make, cook, sew, paint and read. Ideas for projects are everywhere. I am inspired by the old woman with the rhinestone sunglasses and the striped socks and the young mom with the tiny leopard print bow in her purple hair.
It can be a bit embarrassing when at the PTA meeting you reach for a pen in your purse and a wave of glitter comes out with it. You tend to feel like a bumbling mediocre wizard.
When I became a stay at home mother, I became a bit of a gangsta crafter. I’m sure I kept the other mommies wondering how the hell I had the time to make roses out of ribbon. “How do you have time to bake 75 princess tiara cookies, wrap them in glittery pink plastic and add pictures of your daughter on the cutout heart shaped tags?” they would ask. “You see, crafting is like breathing to me”, I would answer in a much too serious tone.
Crafts combined with my other love, holidays, make for a beautiful marriage. When I started to get up out of bed in the middle of the night because I wanted to practice painting “surprised” pumpkin faces for the upcoming Halloween party, I knew I was meant to be a serious crafter. I have glorious aspirations. I so want to be the Princess of Paste. I picture myself with a crown and a glue gun and a crazed DIY smile on my face.
I scammer around town looking for rummage sales or any place I can score crafts for a bargain. When I hear of a sale, my antennas light up as though I have just detected the location of the Holy Grail. The other day I bought a stack of fabric at a garage sale for fifty cents. I got to the car with my purchase and literally drooled all over myself.