OK. I am screwing up my courage to enter that hallowed domain of crafty-ness, Micheal's. Filled with scrap booking women intent on finding the perfect sticker-stamp-paper combination Micheal's terrifies the hell outta me. I go in there and feel like I am suddenly transported to a world where everyone's home is decorated in raffia, gingham ribbon and cutesy painted wood cut outs. I feel suffocated by crafts there. Like I am drowning in cheap acrylic paint and being boxed in by floral foam. To be honest I think its the place where fine art goes to die.
Confused by the rows and rows and rows of choices in puff paint and ribbons and artificial flowers I suffer mightily trying to sort my way out of my own self righteousness and secret burning desire to be one of those who can create something using a hot glue gun besides third degree burns.
This is my second trip there in as many weeks. There is only one person on this whole planet that could make me do such a thing. Shes under three feet tall, can't walk yet (but likes to think she can) and has a birthday in the next month. I am attempting to put on my crafting goddess hat and create a birthday cake and invitations that she (and lets be realistic, I ) can be proud of. Wish me luck internets, wish me luck. I will report on the success of my hunting and gathering mission. Here's hoping I find the perfect vellum, card stock combo without too many panic attacks.