Friday, October 05, 2007

I'm Not That Girl

I blame Craftoholic. I've blamed her since this post of early May, 2006. Wait, let's pause for a moment to ponder that:

I am both incredibly lazy and terribly forgetful. Knowing exactly which blog to go to and where to look to find a blog post (reminder: I read well over a hundred blogs regularly) from SEVENTEEN MONTHS ago??! It has to be a complete fixation for me to retain that sort of information.

Okay, so back to Craftoholic and how evil she is. (Note: Craftoholic probably has zero idea who I am, and so if you link to her and she comes here wondering how all these people are coming to her blog from mine, she's probably going to be quite stunned to find me so resentful of her.) But really, it's not anything about HER especially, other than that I'm annoyed about her abilities.

Did you look at that post? Did you see that bag? That bag is EVIL. That bag has had me thinking for seventeen months that all I need is a sewing machine and a few yards of Amy Butler to be a complete genius. As a matter of fact, immediately after reading that post, I scrapped everything on my birthday wish list (my birthday's in May) and put "Sewing Machine" at the top. Sure. Why not? (I did not get a sewing machine - this turned out to be a very difficult time in our lives and what I got instead of a sewing machine was much more unpleasant, but probably less dangerous than it would inevitably have been to put me in a room with something with a motor, pedal, and sharp pointy object that moves at an alarming rate of speed. I have one quilt I made in middle school and the physical and emotional scars to go with it. Trust me.)

Back to that bag. I hate that bag. I hate that bag because I LOVE THAT BAG. It's sturdy and feminine and looks beautiful on abandoned train tracks with a skinny girl in a trenchcoat and knee boots. (I spend no time on abandoned train tracks, very little time in trenchcoats and/or knee boots, and absolutely zero time as a skinny girl.) I wanted to go to her house, wherever it is, and either steal the bag or throw piles of money or yarn at her until she let me take the bag (which option I chose would probably depend on how ethical I was feeling at the time, whether she was home, and most importantly, whether I felt energetic enough to go to all the trouble of stealing stuff - usually doing something the honest way is much less trouble, and I do love my laziness).

See, I am not particularly feminine in my personal style, and those padded quilted flowery bags that you see absolutely everywhere right now? Those bug me. (Too artsy-craftsy.) But I dream about bags like this one. It's different from the patchwork thing, I swear. (Oh, and yes, I ordered that. It's my destash present to me.) Amy Butler, and recently, Joel Dewberry, are the plague of my existence, sent to earth to remind me that I'm not a badass, and frilly pretty colours and huge floral prints in bold tones make me weak in the knees. (What?? Why?? Since when???)

Case in point, I do not care for the following things: Patchwork. Belts. Aprons. Pastels. Fabric purses.

I want the following things: Patchwork (and pastel!) coin purse. Fabric belt. Apron. (Don't buy that apron, I will find you and kill you or steal it or cry and make you sell it to me at a discount because now it's used and has little bits of the fried rice you made for dinner last night on it. I'm buying that apron as a present to me next time I sell something. Please buy something from my shop instead so I can buy me an apron. That's what you really want anyway. Not that ugly old apron. Yuck. Besides, you're obviously just going to get fried rice on it anyway.) And I believe we've already pretty much covered that fabric purse thing, seeing as how there's one currently on its way to me. Edited to add: Oh. And, um, I might have also bought this, um, patchwork wristlet. (Can I help it?? Did you notice that the little bit of striped material on that wristlet is EXACTLY THE SAME as the striped fabric used for the handles of the bag I bought? Hello!!)

So what the hell??? I hate you guys, Amy Butler and Joel Dewberry. I hate you much.

Okay, must have picture. Picture has nothing to do with topic of post. This little blogger works ten and eleven hour days now and can't be bothered with continuity. Here's some navajo-plied self-striping handspun from a Sweet Sheep roving.

Stripey goodness

Happy weekend!! (Happy long weekend, if you have one of those!!)