In my mind, this semester ended a couple of weeks ago. I really haven’t had much of anything to do that was school related for about 18 days. So, I’ve been trying to find things to do. I’ve written thank you cards to a couple of professors who played significant roles in my experience at Wheaton. I started a list of things to do before we move from here. I even copied down my recipes from their scraps of paper into my official recipe book (thanks Janell!).
One stroke of genius came to me in me in a session of my English Lit. class. The final for that class consists of several “reflections” on various readings from throughout the semester, in the form of journals, paintings, poems etc. I decided to make a quilt. You heard me, a quilt. No, I’ve never made one before, but I’ve always wanted to, so when the opportunity presented itself, I was all over it. Each quilt square some how represented a piece we’ve read. The finished product… ta da!
But I finished that quilt like 3 days after I started it – like I said, nothing else to do – so, on Saturday, my good friend Meg and I spent 13 straight hours scrapbooking.
You can spend 13 hours straight doing that, you say? Why, yes, you can. Scapbooking stores have these work rooms, usually toward the back of the store, where all sorts of folks spend time “cropping” as it’s affectionately titled. This particular store stays open until midnight on Fridays and Saturdays for crazy scrapbookers like Meg and myself. You heard it here first: I am nothing if not a scrapbooking addict, and I was determined to finish our honeymoon album before our first anniversary. Here’s a sample of the fruits of our scraping marathon.
Seeing as how we live in a rented space – for only 3 more weeks, planting flowers (which cost money) into the ground would be awfully silly. So, we got a hanging planter and filled it with all sorts of beautiful spring flowers. The original idea was that Dan was going to get me a bouquet of flowers for our anniversary, but while at the flower shop he saw some potted flowers that he thought I might like, which quickly snowballed into an evening of horticulture. It was awesome, but I also felt a little young to be in the yard with dirty hands, a bag of potting soil, and a trowel.
I have absolutely reveled in the free time I’ve had to explore my crafty side; even more than that, I’ve enjoyed the crafting itself. However, part of me is starting to getting concerned. Am I turning into one of those nerdy craft women that stencils green ivy above the doorways in her house and sponge paints her furniture? Am I destined to decoupage side tables and cross-stitch Christmas stockings? That seems to be the road I am headed down. I guess, so long as I stop short of faux-finishing the walls in my bathroom, I’m ok with all this new-found craftyness.