Tell the story of trying to learn a new talent or hobby that you only pursued briefly.
It's been over five years since I've had a full-time job. Do you know how many hours I need to fill? God forbid that The Mister or The Boy expect me to do housework all day. And even though I love to read, and can waste innumerable hours on Facebook and other things on the interwebs, a side of me thinks I should be doing something useful.
I do useless so much better.
Occasionally, I come up with a harebrained scheme and try a new skill (just like I started this blog out of a desire to "do" something). I've rediscovered cooking and baking and have tried lots of recipes. I make our birthday cakes, but they're not all fancied up like the stuff you get from a bakery.
Then disaster came in my inbox.
"Look! Michael's has this coupon for 40% on Wilton cake decorating stuff. I'll take their class! Yippee! Yay for me!" The Mister encouraged this activity (he likes me to be productive too...and he likes cake).
I registered and shopped for the supplies I'd need. I was actually excited (and more than a bit nervous) about what I'd have to do.
|Michael's / Wilton saw me coming|
Reality slapped me in the face at the very start.
I am NOT crafty. I'm shy around people when I think I'm as dumb as a rock. I found the Wilton class to be madly frustrating. I have no craftiness in me (other than an occasional well-turned phrase). I turned into an ugly person at home and at class when I could not make my flowers and shells and other nonsense look anywhere close to what was expected. I cursed. I whined. I wanted to throw inanimate objects.
I know some of this is due to my being a perfectionist - I want to do it perfectly the first time. But even with practice, I wasn't making much progress. The list of things that could not be put on a cake by me was longer than the list of what would look good.
|What the cake was SUPPOSED to look like|
I am also left handed - the bulk of the instructions were for right handed folks (as are most craft-related instructions); even the instructors were right handed; they had to think 'backwards' to assist me in class.
The instructor, a chipper gal, said, "Use this rose nail and make frosting roses - look how easy!"
I was convinced she was one of Satan's minions, sent to torment me even before I burn in the pits of Hell.
As far as overall craftiness is concerned, It probably didn't help that I have double vision. I can't draw or cut a straight line to save my life.
So, after spending a small fortune for a lovely tackle box-like object filled with
This class was supposed to be fun. As far as I'm concerned, I'd rather be strapped to a dentist's chair and have a root canal without anesthesia, while polka music wafts from the speakers in the ceiling rather than attend another class like that.
|What MY cake looked like (shudder)|