I blame Pinterest.
Damn that site and all those cute and clever pins that lure me into thinking I can craft. I can’t. My rational mind KNOWS this. Prior signing up with that devil site, I knew my limitations. I knew if there was some sort of test in order to become a stay-at-home mother, I’d never make the cut. I can’t sew; if something needs mending in this house, Jack (my husband) does it. I never, ever, make those clever snacks that all the hip moms make that look like something super neat-o, like palm trees and coconuts, but are really broccoli and raisins and the children are so wide-eyed enamored with the creation that they munch it happily. Nope.
My last attempt at a crafty hobby was one New Year’s Eve when I drunkenly contemplated my resolutions and decided that 2009 was the year I’d REALLY learn to crochet. “It’s the year of the crochet!“ I’d shouted (probably waking my poor sleepy children and the neighbors with my unfettered enthusiasm). Then January turned dreary; and, feeling a little blue, I headed to the yarn store to put my resolution into action and proceeded to purchase ream after ream of black yarn. Now, the very idea of crocheting depresses me a little. But, hey, you need some yarn to knit a funeral shroud; I’m your go-to gal. I CAN mix one hell of a cocktail, but every time someone asks my hobbies and I site cocktailing, they always look a little afraid—like I’m going to bust out a flask at any moment and drink to their health and my love of booze. Which, let’s face it, might very well be what I’m about to do.
But, all those darn pins make everything look so easy. I look at the pinners and think, good heavens, that woman can hardly dress herself (I’m not judging…I can hardly dress MYself), if she can make a decorative flower out of an old clip-on earring, material scraps (of which I have none), mosquito netting, thread, and a little “can do spirit,” why can’t I?
And the next thing you know, I find myself a project. Not the decorative flower—that, as it turned out, required sewing. No. I pin a do-it-yourself space saving spice rack project (space saving are two very tempting words as we happily reside in a house the size of a postage stamp). So, I find myself headed to the god forsaken craft store in search of jars, magnets, and labels. The picture that lures me in displays a number of small canning jars with magnets glued to their tops, filled with colorful spices, and neatly stuck to a wall mounted sheet of some sort of metal.
This isn’t at all like crochet. I mean, I don’t even need any special skills. And(!!), I think to myself, my refrigerator is right next to my stove; I can get all the spices off my counter and stick them to the side of the fridge. And, rather than canning jars, baby food jars will work just as easily and be a better size.
First mistake—do NOT deviate from the instructions people! Because, thinking that baby food jars will stick to my fridge as easily as their apparently supernaturally light canning jars stick to the industrial and obviously magical sheet metal they use was foolhardy. With a belly full of strained prunes and sweet potatoes, I watch my darling little labeled baby food jars with magnets attached slide slowly off the refrigerator.
Bleep the bleeping bleep with its friggin’ BLEEP!
Jack chooses this precise moment to come home. He hears me (I may be shouting and stomping my feet…but, you know, only a little), sees the descending jars, and the dog eating a bowl of strained apricots (oh shut it…she LOVED it!), Adele’s “Rolling in the Deep” booming from our stereo (“we could have had it ALL…”) takes a breath and says, “Ok…now. How can I help?”
God bless that man and his endless capacity for unruffled calm.
Another trip to the craft store, more jars purchased (this time small wedding favor jars that the craft experts feel certain will work). The old labels won’t fit on the new jars, so new labels. The magnets I purchased aren’t strong enough, we buy stronger. The fridge just isn’t working, so off to Home Depot for some sheet metal (or flashing or some such dang thing…Jack takes the lead at the Depot, muttering, “Isn’t DIY supposed to be cheaper? We could have purchased 3 wall mounted spice racks at this point”). And, of course, some special glue to get the stupid sheet on the wall.
I get home and re-label the forty (FORTY) friggin’ jars, glue on the super-hootie magnets, bless myself with a silent prayer to the saint of DIY for intercession (whoever that might be…maybe, in my case, St. Jude), and stick them to the sheet Jack has adhered to the wall adjacent to the stove.
Well…almost, anyway. Some of the jars still slip a little but Jack says, “it’s charming like that.” Which, I’m inclined to believe as to disbelieve it would mean revisiting the crafty horror.
So, yeah. I blame Pinterest. I have more baby food than I know what to do with (I could return them, but say what? My nonexistent baby doesn’t like this brand?). My dog has gas (it turns out fruit isn’t the best option for dogs--or my dog anyway—who knew?). I’m broke with nothing exciting or meaningful to show for it. What did I spend all my money on? An evening out? Some indulgent spa service? Charity? BILLS? No…I blew my wad on a bleeping do-it-yourself spice rack, thank you very much.
I’d like to say I’ve sworn off Pinterest and its optimism inducing visuals but Jack has found some sort of built in “space saving” (damn those words!) wine rack (what’s with us and the racks?) on Pinterest that will cost “next to nothing” and I find myself sucked in once again.
Here goes nothing!