I try to post something new on here every weekend, but as of yesterday afternoon, I still couldn't think of anything I wanted to write about. I mentioned my problem to Jen, and she said, "Why don't you write about what it's like to be in a relationship with a crafter?" Which is her way of saying, why don't you write about how amazing my pillows are? I thought, I'm not sure I'm ready to go public with that information.
While I think I'm pretty good at treating everyone the same regardless their age, sex, race, religion, or propensity to get involved in DIY projects, the thing you should know is that on the inside I'm judging everyone. Critically and all the time. When I was a kid always assumed that the only people who chose to make things that could more easily be purchased at Pier One were poor people (We didn't have a lot of money when I was a kid, but by god if I needed new jeans, my mother bought them for me. What 12-year-old wouldn't rather show up to school wearing something made in a sweatshop by one of her Chinese peers than something that looked **gasp** homemade?) and middle-aged cat ladies who've never known a man's touch. I was self-conscious about the possibility of being associated with the former and, while I'm proudly on a collision course with the latter, I was describing applique sweater wearing spinster crafters not gold-star lesbians in my crafter categorization. Then, after living within close proximity of Clintonville for most of my adult life (for non-Columbusites think 90-year-old $200k houses, organic farmers' markets and Tom's Shoes) I added a third "crafter type." The Pretentious. If you've read the first 283 words of this post, you'll note just how hypocritical this assessment is.
Over the course of the last month or so though, I've had to rethink my stance on crafting.* Not because I'm less right than I was a few weeks ago, but because I love Jen very much, and rethinking is the only way I can come to terms with our new lifestyle.
I don't know when Jen found Pinterest, but I first noticed close to Christmas when I realized we hadn't spoken to each other in about two weeks. We lived together. We ate together. We worked together. But it was clear that I was no longer the apple of her eye. All of her time was spent pinning. If you don't know what Pinterest is--good for you. No good can come of it. I will tell you that as far as I can tell, aside from being a potential destroyer of healthy relationships, Pinterest is like a personalized, visual bookmarking system. You know how you might go to espn.com to read about the latest douchey thing Lebron James has done? Well with Pinterest you could bookmark that online article to your own page and, instead of just showing the link so that you can get back to the article anytime you want, it will pull a picture of Lebron James looking douchey from the article and "pin" that to your page. If you still care what I'm talking about or my description makes no sense, I suggest you click this Pinterest hyperlink and take a look around Jen's page so that you can see all the things she finds more interesting than me.
As far as I can tell, 99% of the people on Pinterest are not pinning sports articles. No, the primary focus of Pinterest seems to be pretty things. Lots of cookable things, but mostly crafty things. If you already date someone who pins things and you ever hear her (let's be honest, this is not a dude activity) say, "hey, I could do that," it's all over.
Jen first fell down the rabbit hole over New Year's weekend when we went to Erie for a postponed Christmas with her parents. Jen had little faith in her own crafting abilities, but her mom is something of a genius when it comes to making things (especially if there's sewing involved), so Jen thought it would be a nice bonding experience if she and her mom could spend the weekend making some of the things she'd found on Pinterest. She was right. It was a nice bonding experience. Since I entered the scene, Jen's mom hasn't gotten much alone time with her daughter, so I was happy to spend two days drinking rye and trying to blend into the furniture while Jen and her mom made some pendants and t-shirt scarfs. New Year's weekend proved to be significant for Jen in that she realized that she really does have the ability to make pretty things that she's finds on the internet. It was significant for me too, because it was the first time I realized that every trip to the craft store from now until the end of my life will cost at least 50 bucks and that just setting foot in a Joann Fabrics can trigger the onset of menopause, even if you're a man.
They say (incorrectly) money can't buy happiness, but I'm here to tell you that crafting can. Since New Year's Jen has spent many of her evenings and weekends at her desk in our bedroom cranking out crafts, and I've never seen her filled with such joy. She started her momless quest into craft with handmade coasters, or as I like to call them--the thing everyone's getting for Christmas this year.
We now have more coasters than we have glasses, but that's okay. They do look pretty cool, and they make her happy. Once Jen mastered coaster craft, she decided it was finally time to recover some throw pillows of ours that she's always** hated.
Sewing the new covers for the pillows turned out to be something of a challenge. Jen has moved her grandmother's old sewing machine to and from 5 different apartments since she moved to Columbus with the poor old thing (the sewing machine, not Jen) collecting pounds of dust and cat hair all along the way and, to my knowledge, she never even plugged the thing in until about two weeks ago. The thing you have to know about Jen is when she wants something, she wants it yesterday. So you can imagine how frustrated she must have been when after we got home from a $50 jaunt to the craft store (fabric, pillow forms, thread) and after 45 minutes of trying to thread the needle on her machine, the damn thing wouldn't sew. She called her mom 3 times, she looked online for help, in a moment of desperation she even asked me if there was anything I could do. There was nothing. She would have to do the unthinkable and wait.
The next morning Jen and I threw the defective sewing machine in the trunk of our car just in case she could find someone to fix it while we were out at work. Jen and I work at an ad agency, and most of the people we work with are of the computer geek variety, but crafters can smell their own. She reached out for advice to everyone in the office who emitted the scent to no avail. By the time I got to work at 1:00, I could see that let's-just-buy-a-new-sewing-machine look in her eye. It's the same as the let's-go-to-Lowes-and-buy-more-tile-for-my-coasters look and the I-really-like-this-sweater look. I'm powerless against this look. Luckily when I asked her if she was going to ask me to take her to buy a new machine, she pointed out that that would be ridiculous, "but I did think about it."
After work, we went home and she shut herself in the bedroom while I drank scotch and glued my eyeballs to a super boring GOP primary debate. Sometime between Newt Gingrich's first and 478th condescending eye roll, Jen came out to the living room with a smile on her face and a length of fabric with a perfectly sewn hem. "The needle was on backwards," she reported as she headed back into her workroom (where we also happen to sleep). Twenty minutes later, she came back out with an even bigger grin and a lovely decorative pillow. And that's when it happened. That's when I added a fourth "crafter type." It's the person-who's-stressed-out-99%-of-the-time-who-is-made-to-feel-calmer-and-happier-when-endeavoring-to-do-something-creative-and-seeing-that-project-through-from-conception-to-completion type. Having spent many an hour with nothing more than some Swedish hieroglyphics and an allen wrench, sweating and swearing right up until the moment the last screw is tightened on some pre-fab furniture, I can sort of understand where these people are coming from. It's fun to work with your hands. To make something pretty. I couldn't do what she does. It's not just the desire I lack. It's the patience, the vision, and the skill.
So, as long as we're in election season and the news networks are hosting 2 debates for me to watch a week, it's fine by me if Jen wants to spend all her free time pinning and crafting. I just hope she doesn't plan to bring her bottle of Mod Podge along on our vacation to Asheville in March. I'm fairly certain there are signs all along the Appalachian trail that warn, "Please don't decoupage the mountains."
*Just this morning, Jen and I had a mini debate about exactly crafting entails. She said, "I don't think sewing clothes is the same as crafting." I countered, "It's crafting if you get some perverse satisfaction out of making something yourself that you could buy for less money."
**By "always" I mean ever since she got on Pinterest.
While I think I'm pretty good at treating everyone the same regardless their age, sex, race, religion, or propensity to get involved in DIY projects, the thing you should know is that on the inside I'm judging everyone. Critically and all the time. When I was a kid always assumed that the only people who chose to make things that could more easily be purchased at Pier One were poor people (We didn't have a lot of money when I was a kid, but by god if I needed new jeans, my mother bought them for me. What 12-year-old wouldn't rather show up to school wearing something made in a sweatshop by one of her Chinese peers than something that looked **gasp** homemade?) and middle-aged cat ladies who've never known a man's touch. I was self-conscious about the possibility of being associated with the former and, while I'm proudly on a collision course with the latter, I was describing applique sweater wearing spinster crafters not gold-star lesbians in my crafter categorization. Then, after living within close proximity of Clintonville for most of my adult life (for non-Columbusites think 90-year-old $200k houses, organic farmers' markets and Tom's Shoes) I added a third "crafter type." The Pretentious. If you've read the first 283 words of this post, you'll note just how hypocritical this assessment is.
Over the course of the last month or so though, I've had to rethink my stance on crafting.* Not because I'm less right than I was a few weeks ago, but because I love Jen very much, and rethinking is the only way I can come to terms with our new lifestyle.
I don't know when Jen found Pinterest, but I first noticed close to Christmas when I realized we hadn't spoken to each other in about two weeks. We lived together. We ate together. We worked together. But it was clear that I was no longer the apple of her eye. All of her time was spent pinning. If you don't know what Pinterest is--good for you. No good can come of it. I will tell you that as far as I can tell, aside from being a potential destroyer of healthy relationships, Pinterest is like a personalized, visual bookmarking system. You know how you might go to espn.com to read about the latest douchey thing Lebron James has done? Well with Pinterest you could bookmark that online article to your own page and, instead of just showing the link so that you can get back to the article anytime you want, it will pull a picture of Lebron James looking douchey from the article and "pin" that to your page. If you still care what I'm talking about or my description makes no sense, I suggest you click this Pinterest hyperlink and take a look around Jen's page so that you can see all the things she finds more interesting than me.
As far as I can tell, 99% of the people on Pinterest are not pinning sports articles. No, the primary focus of Pinterest seems to be pretty things. Lots of cookable things, but mostly crafty things. If you already date someone who pins things and you ever hear her (let's be honest, this is not a dude activity) say, "hey, I could do that," it's all over.
Jen first fell down the rabbit hole over New Year's weekend when we went to Erie for a postponed Christmas with her parents. Jen had little faith in her own crafting abilities, but her mom is something of a genius when it comes to making things (especially if there's sewing involved), so Jen thought it would be a nice bonding experience if she and her mom could spend the weekend making some of the things she'd found on Pinterest. She was right. It was a nice bonding experience. Since I entered the scene, Jen's mom hasn't gotten much alone time with her daughter, so I was happy to spend two days drinking rye and trying to blend into the furniture while Jen and her mom made some pendants and t-shirt scarfs. New Year's weekend proved to be significant for Jen in that she realized that she really does have the ability to make pretty things that she's finds on the internet. It was significant for me too, because it was the first time I realized that every trip to the craft store from now until the end of my life will cost at least 50 bucks and that just setting foot in a Joann Fabrics can trigger the onset of menopause, even if you're a man.
They say (incorrectly) money can't buy happiness, but I'm here to tell you that crafting can. Since New Year's Jen has spent many of her evenings and weekends at her desk in our bedroom cranking out crafts, and I've never seen her filled with such joy. She started her momless quest into craft with handmade coasters, or as I like to call them--the thing everyone's getting for Christmas this year.
We now have more coasters than we have glasses, but that's okay. They do look pretty cool, and they make her happy. Once Jen mastered coaster craft, she decided it was finally time to recover some throw pillows of ours that she's always** hated.
Sewing the new covers for the pillows turned out to be something of a challenge. Jen has moved her grandmother's old sewing machine to and from 5 different apartments since she moved to Columbus with the poor old thing (the sewing machine, not Jen) collecting pounds of dust and cat hair all along the way and, to my knowledge, she never even plugged the thing in until about two weeks ago. The thing you have to know about Jen is when she wants something, she wants it yesterday. So you can imagine how frustrated she must have been when after we got home from a $50 jaunt to the craft store (fabric, pillow forms, thread) and after 45 minutes of trying to thread the needle on her machine, the damn thing wouldn't sew. She called her mom 3 times, she looked online for help, in a moment of desperation she even asked me if there was anything I could do. There was nothing. She would have to do the unthinkable and wait.
The next morning Jen and I threw the defective sewing machine in the trunk of our car just in case she could find someone to fix it while we were out at work. Jen and I work at an ad agency, and most of the people we work with are of the computer geek variety, but crafters can smell their own. She reached out for advice to everyone in the office who emitted the scent to no avail. By the time I got to work at 1:00, I could see that let's-just-buy-a-new-sewing-machine look in her eye. It's the same as the let's-go-to-Lowes-and-buy-more-tile-for-my-coasters look and the I-really-like-this-sweater look. I'm powerless against this look. Luckily when I asked her if she was going to ask me to take her to buy a new machine, she pointed out that that would be ridiculous, "but I did think about it."
After work, we went home and she shut herself in the bedroom while I drank scotch and glued my eyeballs to a super boring GOP primary debate. Sometime between Newt Gingrich's first and 478th condescending eye roll, Jen came out to the living room with a smile on her face and a length of fabric with a perfectly sewn hem. "The needle was on backwards," she reported as she headed back into her workroom (where we also happen to sleep). Twenty minutes later, she came back out with an even bigger grin and a lovely decorative pillow. And that's when it happened. That's when I added a fourth "crafter type." It's the person-who's-stressed-out-99%-of-the-time-who-is-made-to-feel-calmer-and-happier-when-endeavoring-to-do-something-creative-and-seeing-that-project-through-from-conception-to-completion type. Having spent many an hour with nothing more than some Swedish hieroglyphics and an allen wrench, sweating and swearing right up until the moment the last screw is tightened on some pre-fab furniture, I can sort of understand where these people are coming from. It's fun to work with your hands. To make something pretty. I couldn't do what she does. It's not just the desire I lack. It's the patience, the vision, and the skill.
So, as long as we're in election season and the news networks are hosting 2 debates for me to watch a week, it's fine by me if Jen wants to spend all her free time pinning and crafting. I just hope she doesn't plan to bring her bottle of Mod Podge along on our vacation to Asheville in March. I'm fairly certain there are signs all along the Appalachian trail that warn, "Please don't decoupage the mountains."
*Just this morning, Jen and I had a mini debate about exactly crafting entails. She said, "I don't think sewing clothes is the same as crafting." I countered, "It's crafting if you get some perverse satisfaction out of making something yourself that you could buy for less money."
**By "always" I mean ever since she got on Pinterest.
No comments:
Post a Comment