OMG, more irony category: Can you believe that I was scheduled to steward for the ladies' alpine events at the Olympics, had to cancel the first few days of that to take another trip to someplace Euge, and the weather in Whistler has delayed those events such that I will arrive just in time to steward those very events? How cool is that?
Apropos of nothing, I am tonight thoroughly enjoying cutting out my idea of cute fashions from the various fashion mags laying around the house and glue-sticking them into an old spiral notebook. (Jeepers, some guy just fell during the pairs figure skating competition on TV...ok he's up and they are going again; they look lovely and the music is divine.) I just started doing this to keep track of what I like; I am always thinking about repurposing clothing and fabrics (from home, from the thrift shop, from freecycle) into something gorgeous......well, as many of you know, I like to plan projects but rarely complete them, so, don't be looking for me on Project Runway. (Now why for crying out loud are they only replaying the fall and none of the beauty?)
As a child, I was a daydreamer and wandered through life in a fog, and was, therefore, clumsy. No, nobody saw any Olympic potential in me at all. But I hope to medal in volunteering. Good grief, here's an Hermés leather post-it note case, sort of a wrap with a snap---$240. “Sucker born every minute,” I trill. I’m not clipping that out. Paper dolls, entire towns built out of soap boxes, miniature furniture made from graph paper, scotch tape, and colored pencil, flowers made from Kleenex and a bit of wire, comic books, greeting cards; those were my crafty trends as a child.
Sometime during my 30s I hit upon a creative little craft I still enjoy very much—making my own gift tags from greeting cards. Sounds silly but for some reason I get a big kick out of cutting tiny pieces out of greeting cards to make teeny tiny gift tags, that fold such that there is a picture on the front and inside I can write in small letters the “to” and the “from”. Why this is so satisfying to me I don’t know, but it is.
I also have the habit of recycling past humiliations. One will pop into my head, give me that adrenaline rush of shame/fear/shame/disgust, and ruin my day. Does anyone else do this?
I have presented my evening musings as desultorily as possible, which seems to be the way I like to write. I didn’t even know what the word meant when I selected it for our writing prompt.