It’s time to go on an a dynamic adventure; one filled with hot glue, textile addictions, compulsive crafting, and petty theft. The origins of my life-long creative convulsions can most likely be traced back to my parental units. Like any accountable, loving, and grateful child, I will primarily blame my mother, Carol.
Stunnin’ with Mom’s Love Glue Gunnin’:
Growing up, I realized my mother inherently seemed to know how to do every activity that registered on the creative spectrum, provided it didn’t require a forklift. She impulsively and meticulously decorated EVERYTHING and EVERYONE she came in contact with. My father even suspected she switched-out the obligatory wreaths that were always on our front door just as religiously as she changed her underwear (i.e. daily...just to halt any potential rumors). The kitchen table was rarely sanctioned for eating food in our household. Rather, it consistently served as a sacrificial arena showcasing her most beloved and versatile weapon of choice: THE HOT GLUE GUN. Here my mother relentlessly used her glue gun to aggressively incinerate and adhere her creative subjects to one another with a vengeance. It was as if her glue gun was a monster truck running over stadiums filled with crumpled Ford Pintos at a monster truck rally...over...and over...and over again. If there was a maternal equivalent to the obligatory Dad calendar, ‘365 Days of Duck Tape’, my Mother’s would be titled, ‘365 Days with a Hot Glue Gun.’
School of Hard-Knock-Chalk-Jayhawks:
After spending my childhood perpetually watching and participating in creative carnage, I went off to college. I made a pit-stop at the University of Kansas (Rock Chalk Jayhawk Go KU) and temporarily veered off the creative pathway. I graduated with an undergraduate degree in political science with a minor in philosophy.
Wait….whaaaaa???? I know, right??? That’s what I thought too...and it’s my own life we’re talking about here.
Klepto-Craft-o-Maniac:
Anyway, I bet you are on pins and needles, wondering to yourself, “When does the petty theft get introduced into the story?!!” The answer is now. There were two major incidents that define my klepto-craft-o-mania phase. Both occasions involved sewing machines. The first victim was my mother’s coveted Viking Husqvarna sewing machine that I had my eye on since childhood. And the second suspect was my father’s compact, commercial-duty sewing machine that was kept on-hand to mend and repair sails for his sailboat. (yep….that’s right, my dad knows how to sew...like a Boss).
Both sewing machines were ‘borrowed’ in the fall of 2009. I was going through a post-college ‘creative relapse’. I had recently rekindled my childhood love affair with sewing while constructing a Halloween costume for my son when he was a toddler. I stayed up the entire night before Halloween sewing it. At the time we lived in a loft apartment, so I had to set-up camp in our bathroom; it was the only room with a substantive door I could close. (I was desperate, and it was a precautionary measure to not to wake-up my sleeping Rug-Rat, of course). So I closed the door, pretended I was in a sci-fi movie, and created an egg costume using an eight-dollar, (true story) micro-sized sewing machine. This event officially marked a new low for me...I realized I was sitting on a toilet seat while sewing a big fuzzy egg on a 'sewing machine' that was size of a Teacup Yorkie...and drinking a Red Bull in the middle of the night. I knew right then things had to change.
Rehab:
Needless to say, this mandated a moment of deep self-reflection and the realization that I had an insatiable appetite for a legitimate sewing machine; one that was far too substantial to fit inside the glove box of a Smart Car. I resolved to ‘borrow’ the sewing machines of my immediate family members with very ambiguous return dates. I needed these machines to release the inner-creative beast that had been deprived within my soul throughout my years in college. I thought it was a virus that would just run its course and I would return to 'normal'. But my desire to create again only grew stronger when I fed it more….and I haven't looked back since. As a result of my klepto-craft-o-maniac phase, I got back in touch with what I instinctively knew I wanted to do all along...create...and it has lead me on a journey to this very place today.
