Day 14

Day 14 - A picture of your favorite pastime.

I know that you might find it hard to believe, but I actually enjoy hobbies OTHER than therapy research, determining behavior antecedents, and other fun Autism-related activities. There are actually moments that I can get to myself and do the things I love to do--things that do NOT involve the word "potty" or nursery rhymes, or anything to do with Thomas the train engine. (seriously, is anyone else creeped out by that train?)

For those of you who don't know me, I'm a crafty gal--and not in Beastie Boy terms. Having spent a majority of my childhood in Indiana--home of the winters of oblivion--and comign from a long line of crafty gals, I enjoy plying needle to thread, glue to paper and paint to wood, or any combination of those things.

I learned to sew when I was a teenager--which was a little late in Indiana terms. But the skills taught to me by my lovely home-ec teacher, and fortified by my mother and grandmother have stuck with me. And I'm not just talking sewing on a button or hemming pants here. I'm talking full construction, pattern-making, quilting--if it has to do with fabric, I'm on it.

My mother can tell you I wanted to be a fashion designer early on. She encouraged me and my love for fashion, but she was really the only one. I was faced with a great deal of pragmatism when I told other adults what I wanted to do. That, and I couldn't draw for crap--not that I ever learned figure drawing formally. So, I listened to the nay-sayers--my fault really--and went into education.

Now, before you say," but you shoulda…," you have to also understand that I was (am!) a jill of many talents. I also read like a fiend, and write tolerably well. And I have a head for memorizing all sorts of crap, so while fashion fed my creative side, I did have a side that liked the thought of being a teacher. I mean, lord knows I like to drone on and on about inane crap sometime…

So, career choices aside, I can tell you that craftiness never really left me, and I now have a whole basement-type room (basements don't exist in CA) that is dedicated to my creations. I only get to go down there when Ben is either at school or taking a nap, since he hasn't really grasped the concept of danger, per se, and lord knows I don’t want to have to rush him to the ER for an iron burn. It's also the place in this house that is MINE, just for me, with my sewing machines and fancy scissors, where I can listen to my crappy music and not have to clean up after anyone with testosterone. It's a quiet and thoughtful place, and I often get lost in my thoughts or designs when I'm down there. (ask my husband who has learned to sing a little tune loudly before he comes in so that he stops startling me!)

That being said, I hope that one day Ben will be able to hang out in my studio like I would hang out in my Grandmother's sewing room. (under the table and out of the way, mind) And I hope that he develops some of the crafty gene. I suppose there is that side of me that hopes he develops some sort of sick visualizing skills that will make him a genius artist (even though it seems he is turning out to be more of a number kid). If anything, I hope my studio will be a place where he learns at least the joys of creation, even if it is just glue and glitter--which I still consider vital parts of a child's development.

And of course, I've included a picture of my best work yet--my own wedding dress. It was a joint effort between me and my mother, but still, there aren't many who can say they made their own wedding dress, so I hope you'll allow me some vanity on that point. Or at the very least, acknowledge that I'm not talkin out of my ass…