Confession time: I am as crafty as a big rock. No. Actually I am LESS crafty than a big rock. And yesterday I was reminded again why God has graciously safeguarded me from the wild and wonderful world of scrapbooking.
It all started in the scrapbooking aisle at Michael's, where I found myself searching for some items for Payton's school project. Now I should probably preface this rant by saying that I do not, nor have I ever, nor do I have any future plans to scrapbook. I don't "get it", actually. I have no moral objection to those of you who do scrapbook, just don't bother to invite me to a CROP.
So, there I was, standing in the scrapbooking aisle, detecting the onset of a migraine as I stared at the stickers, papers, sayings, glues, albums, etc. It is UNBELIEVABLE to me. There were sticker sets with catchy titles like "Special Delivery"--this one included a sticker of an ultra-sound machine--and "In the Kitchen"--complete with teeny tiny rolling pin and toaster stickers. The "Moments of Motherhood" set was especially compelling with its gaudy sticker exclaiming "Big Belly." Now that's just what every expectant mom wants on her special album page!
The aisle was replete with miniature shirts/jerseys for every sport/hobby/pastime you can imagine. I mean, do people really and truly make scrapbook pages that require "puffy" seahorses and lobsters or stickers of overflowing beer steins and bottle openers? Do savvy scrapbookers out there really spend hard-earned money on sheets of fuzzy stickers of every dog breed imaginable or stickers of corn on the cob and fried chicken?? And the scissors and die-cuts? What is up with all the scissors and die-cuts??
As I stood there surveying my options, I started mumbling to myself. But I guess I wasn't mumbling quietly enough. When the elderly lady beside me struck up a conversation, I knew I was in trouble. I'm sure she was lovely, but I was on a mission and she was about to impede my progress.
"Do you scrapbook?" she asked. At first, I thought this seemed like a very dumb question, considering I was standing in the scrapbooking aisle with my hands full of expensive stickers. Then I remembered that, in fact, I did not scrapbook after all. When I told her so, she asked me what I was looking for? Sensing her need for conversation and weighing it against my need for speed, I quickly answered "Stickers for a school project for my son.", hoping I had given her enough information. But she was not to be dissuaded. "Oh, how old is he?" she queried, and it went downhill from there.
In the next few minutes, I learned that she didn't scrapbook either. She made cards and sold them. She had a grandson named Shawnee (Kari M. stop laughing!) and her only daughter was expecting a baby girl in August. She had a son too and isn't there something special about sons that's just different than daughters? Her son was so diligent in school but her daughter was always irresponsible and needed a lot of nagging to get things done. When she started pointing out possible stickers options, my hives began, and when I made the mistake of mentioning that one of the chief reasons I didn't scrapbook was that I couldn't stand the clutter around my house, she looked at me like I had three heads and told me I needed a "special room" for all the scrapbooking stuff. (yeah riiighhhtttt!)
I tried. I really, really tried to be gracious. I hope I came across that way because I admit I wasn't feeling very gracious. I'm sure that this dear woman's cards are stunning displays of sparkling, acid-free scrapbooking goodness, but I just wanted to get the heck out of dodge and get my errands done. Finally, after a few more conciliatory nods and some well-placed "umm-hmms", I wished her the best with her card making and made a bee line for the register.
Maybe some of you scrapbookers out there can enlighten me. What exactly is all the hype about? How do you even begin to choose amidst all those "sticky" options? How do you justify spending the money? How do you organize all those stickers and ribbons and vellum "thingies"? Am I really missing out on something that I will regret? Do tell.