I wish I were crafty, but alas I am not. I am artsy, yes, but not crafty. I aspire to be – I mean, I have a glue gun, but I am afraid to use it. And while I make fun of crafty people with their homemade potpourri and their crocheted toilet paper roll holders, I secretly envy them. I thumb through Martha Stewart Living and gaze at her decoupage and her stenciled lampshades and think, “Wow. I could do that”. Then I think, “Wow. What a colossal waste of time”. Then I think, “Wow. It’s cocktail time already”. And so ends another day. No, but seriously. My sister-in-law is crafty. She makes birch bark candles and picture frames, and beads her own jewelery, and she’s not a stay at home mom or anything. She does something really important in finance somewhere. My friend Donna whips together cushion covers and redecorates her house in an afternoon. Leslie makes her own greeting cards. Fiona makes her own freaking paper, for the love of God. The last thing I made was a Popsicle stick ashtray, which didn’t work out all that well. If I could make something myself, it would be shoes. Yeah baby! You’d be all “Wow I love your shoes! Where’d you get them?”, and I’d be all “I made them myself. Out of birch bark.” And that would out-Martha even Martha. But it’s not going to happen. Because when it comes to craftsmanship, I defer to people who make things better than I can, and that would be just about everybody.
Now, seeing that it’s Friday, if I’m going to make anything, it’s going to be a martini.
Happy weekend.