Yesterday my husband brought me the "Living" magazine. It's sent out monthly by our electric company, and it's contents include energy saving tips, calendar events of the month and other such things of interest to the Blue Ridge customers.
I almost never even look at the magazine, but perhaps I should.
There is an article written each month by a very humorous woman who sounds as if we'd get along famously. I discovered this when Mike thrust the page under my nose last evening and said, "You have GOT to read this." So, being the obedient and obliging wife that I am, I stopped everything I was doing, and without argument or reply, began to read. There was no stopping once I started. I giggled my way through each sentence...and even called my mother to read it to her. It was so ME!
The writer is a crafter too. She says that craft items such as clay, paint, glitter, baskets, flowers, wire, etc. are to a crafter as important to life as oxygen. Yes, indeed...I must agree. She says that she hasn't thrown anything away since 1973 because somewhere, someday, someone is going to need a glittered clay basket of flowers. Oh. yes, we MUST be the sisters separated at birth!
I immediately liked this woman. She encouraged me to continue my saving for future projects. Now I have an ally. She'd never say to me, as my kids do, "Mom, you have too much STUFF. Get rid of it!" She'd never ask "How long are you going to keep that thing before you use it?" or "WHAT are you going to do with THAT?"
She'd tell me to put on the ear muffs and ignore all those non-crafting neatniks.
It seems to me that we'd have a grand time shopping together for stamps and inks and papers and paper mache boxes. She'd understand the overwhelming urge to buy a hot pink and cool lime feather boa for some crazy notion I might get while hyperventilating in the aisles at Michael's or Hobby Lobby. She'd join me in my excitement and breathless race to the dollar bin filled with spools of ribbon. Nobody else does, but she would. We'd be fast friends for life, if only I could meet her. We could spend hours together in my craft room or hers, painting and gluing, tossing glitter into the air and wiring beads to anything that will hold them. She might even have a creative thought for the milkbox full of ceramic tiles I've had for ten or twelve years! Oh the joy of such a thought!
But alas, I fear that I will know her only through her words. I must hunt up all the old copies of "Living" so I can read all of her articles. They've been saved since we moved here, because Mike tells me that I must read this or that. I never seem to get around to reading much, and since he reads everything in print, I wouldn't get anything done if I read all that he suggests. I'm far more interested in doing things than reading about someone else's adventures. However, I think I can manage to read my new friend's monthly article.
I wonder where that stack of magazines is? Let me go move the teetering pile of blank cards and tape and scrapbook papers off the coffee table. Maybe they are there.
