Truly. I am not a deeply crafty person. My mom and sisters quilt and sew things like dresses and Halloween costumes. I know how to run a sewing machine. I've dabbled in knitting, beading, clip-making, even stained glass. But I lack the conviction and patience (I try not to think I lack the talent, though that may also be true) to excel in the creative arts.
Once in awhile the creative bug gets to me - "creative" as in to create something, not as in coming up with something original and clever. It's usually satisfied through baking - oh, what therapy those sweet aromas bring! But once in a very long while I want to make something else. It happened today. Maybe it was the cozy-day-at-home thing with Hanna pouring and whirling around outside. Maybe it's all the amazingly crafty blogs and Etsy shops I've visited lately. Just a little something simple, but unbelievably satisfying.
I pulled out the big bag of scraps unearthed from the back of Mom's sewing closet - adorable but small pieces of vintage and retro fabrics - and made two little drawstring bags for the girls' rock collection. My kids LOVE their rocks and sometimes play all day just clicking them together and putting them in and out of containers. Hazel pretends they are the eggs of her rubber lizards or whatever other animal is handy. Ginger never leaves the house without one in each hand. They're just simple colorful rocks bought at a beach souvenir shop, and recently replenished at the Natural History Museum gem shop. But they're all over the house and car with no assigned storage place, so I made these little bags:
Then, wow, how the creative bug feeds itself! In the same bag of fabric scraps was a smaller bag of buttons scored out of the depths of Mom's sewing drawers, mostly from the 60's and still in original packaging. I got one of Ginger's onesies and sewed a few on.
Not much, I know. Anyone could do it. But a sense of accomplishment and loving domesticity came over me and lingered for the rest of the day. It just felt good to make something.