Tonight I went to a workshop at PaperSource on creating handmade cards.
Hmm? Oh. Well, because I wanted to, that's why. Because I haven't done anything just because I wanted to in... uhhh... hmmm...
You see how it is.
So I enjoyed every second of it. I arrived early to find a h u g e table covered in brown craft paper (how I love that stuff) and neat stations fully stocked with an array of craft supplies that would make even the uncraftiest among us feel an electric jolt of elementary joy.
And then, I played. Playing feels pretty good, in case you've forgotten. You have, haven't you? Well now, a little quality time with some office supplies would probably do you a world of good. Cut and paste, people! Rock, paper, scissors, gluesticks! It maketh the heart merry. (If you need convincing, pay Ann Voskamp a visit. Now there's a gal who knows how to party with a gluestick.)
So the PaperSource instructor, a chirpy 21-year-old art student named, appropriately, Cricket, showed us craftylicious things to do with engravers and templates and bone folders and rubber stamps. Funnity fun fun! I even got to use some power tools -- a heat embosser and a Xion sticker maker machine thingy. Heavens, I'm still trying to settle down.
My table partner was probably at Woodstock. When I glanced up to ask her for the tape runner, she had her eyes closed and was swaying and humming all groovy-like to the music. I think it was Rocket Man. "Oh my," she exulted, "I just got lost in the music for a sec. Elton John was just so... powerful, ya know?" And then, while Cricket was chirping about engraving tools, Woodstock Woman kept leaning over whispering to me in countercultural tones, "I don't WANT to do it that way. So I'm NOT." Trippin' daisies, babe, way to be revolutionary! And then she'd nod at me all conspiratorially. (Probably because I was wearing acid green and purple together. With teal tights and lots of blue beads. Right on.)
So I came home with a portfolio of swell projects which I made all by myself. (Well, all by myself with Cricket and Ms. Woodstock and seven other remarkably normal women.) I picked up some sweet paper skills, too.
But no matter what... no matter how clever I become, no matter how many ink pads or canisters of embossing powder I go through, no matter how many racks of dollar store Christmas cards I peruse after I've given up on all that... I will never NEVER top the Christmas greeting we put postage on in 1995. Because this, Gentle Readers, was our family Christmas card picture that year:
Not even Martha Stewart can beat that.
*hat tip to Claire for digging up the picture. And for having those incredible curls.