Well, this is the first of what I hope will be many posts about crafting and motherhood. My hope is that someone (anyone? please, anyone?) will find this blog mildly entertaining and follow it. I will also be launching an Etsy storefront in the near future, so there is always the hope that this will become wildly successful, allowing me to live the high life (purchasing my own yarn without using household funds!- the high life changes once you have children).
My son is blissfully asleep. I say blissfully, b/c he is in dreamland and I am playing on the computer, inventing something new. I have never blogged about anything, ever. My personal observations were never really something I would have considered to be interesting to the chance passerby (this means you fair reader). But alas, if I don't start saying something at some point, how will I ever make that Etsy store a reality for myself and hope to buy mass quantities of yarn and other items without guilt.
Speaking of shopping: Why do women love to shop and feel guilt after they do? Is it hardwired into our brains that we must indulge and then feel like lower life forms for engaging our desire to obtain "stuff?" Personally, the craft store is my downfall. I walk in and I have a plan! My plan will not be changed! That is, until I see something cute, different, related to Steampunk crafting, etc.
The previous sentence is meant to imply that I nearly purchased a book on Steampunk crafting today! Now, you don't know me from Adam's house cat, but Steampunk would not be a word folks would associate with me. Yet, I find it endlessly fascinating. I love all the industrial design and those funky clock and bike gear doohickies. It looks like the new Sherlock Holmes movies, come to life. Therefore, I may begin doing some new wire-work pieces and seeing how they progress.
When I worked for a living, crafting was on the back burner. I spent most of my time worrying about how to be effective at the office. Now, I worry about how to be effective as a person. How does one appropriately gauge their worth when the climax of their day involves a blowout diaper and a dog that tips the garbage can, then proceeds to lick up a zillion cookie sprinkles from Saturday's party? I do not know the answer to that little puzzle (one of life's many mysteries), so I must choose to be effective by any means necessary.
I craft, therefore I am! Maybe... possibly... sort of?
That's all for now folks.
Rachel
