Pinterest, I hate you.
Okay, maybe hate is too strong a word. How about Pinterest, you lying, deceptive temptress of hand-made evil?
I'll admit I am relatively green when it comes to all things Pinterest. I've only skirted the phenomenon. I was under the impression that seeing all that awesomeness would give me a case of the "I can't do that s#$t blues." And guess what?
I know how to design scrapbook pages. I'm good at it. I know this. I make fonts do what I want them to do on command. I know clean. I know simple. These are my personal, self-evident truths.
But get a hot glue gun in my hand and I am literally a hot freaking mess.
Exhibit A: My cheese cloth ghost project.
What it was supposed to look like:
I know, I probably used the wrong kind of spray starch. But I stood there shaking my fist at the sky (or at least the front porch ceiling) thinking: WHY, MICHAELS? WHY DO I THINK I CAN DO THIS STUFF? DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL!
That and, "I want my $70 BACK!"
Exhibit B: My glitter pumpkin.
Okay, this one isn't so bad. Except for one little, nagging issue.
I hate glitter.
I'm sorry, but I do. I try to like it. Intrinsically, I know that as a female crafter I am supposed to like glitter. But it really is the herpes of the craft world. The minute it touches my skin I have a visceral reaction and head for the nearest sink. I'm afraid it will never, ever wash off.
I also have an irrational fear that a micro-shard will land in my eye and scratch my cornea, rendering me partially sightless for all future craft fails.
I have zero joy when working with glitter. Only fear and a healthy dose of garden-variety suspicion. It's just not worth it.
Not all recent attempts have been complete losses. For example, I successfully hot-glued plastic spiders onto my store-bought wreath.
The operative word being "store-bought."
And there is still my yet-to-be-taken-out-of-the-box Silhouette Cameo.
I know many of you are scratching your heads. "CATHY!" you're shouting at the computer screen, "Unbox that s@#t already!"
In due time, people. In due time.
Comparison is the thief of joy, comparison is the thief of joy.
It's the journey that matters, not the destination.
Buy it at a store and be done with it already.