So many patterns & recipes & blogs & bookmarks and so few friends & relatives & strangers...

After a fast-paced Saturday morning spent feverishly celebrating PINK SATURDAY (see below), prefaced by a Friday evening taking photos and thinking of witty, little things to say in my blog post, I generally spend Sunday morning at the kitchen table with my laptop reading and visiting and browsing and saving pages that I just can't bare to lose under any circumstances, you know what I mean? Sure you do, yes, I'm sure you do, after all, you're reading this, aren't you?

Just as I was "bookmarking" something I just HAD to remember or to keep or to make or to further think about, it hit me: "Will I ever live long enough to make all of the lovely, artistic, artsy-fartsy things "adornments" saved in my computer and in my files and in boxes and in drawers and...well, all over the place?" Even if I live to be as old as Methuselah...will that be enough time...really? Not to mention the cost of materials for making all of those Sugar Plums that stumble dance through my head at various times during the day. Now that Bernie Madoll is in the pokey, I don't think I'll ever be able to get him to tell where he put all of the billions I gave to him to invest. At least three to four million was set aside for crafts...sigh. It is clear to me, with his incarceration, that I just might have to do all of my creating with what I have stashed around this house or with the money I make at summer garage sales selling off my clothes and furniture so I can buy more supplies to feed my OC obsession creative pursuit.

And, there is the time to think about...the time spent making all of those wonderful, adorable, darling, precious goodies. There are only so many hours in my day to sit and to make or to glue or to paint or to sew or to cut. Once those goodies are completed, do I know enough people to "gift" them to or have enough family members who would like more homemade "thingies" from Mimi? Uhm, I've really piled those folks high with cute stuff over the years, not to mention the three to five crocheted or knitted afghans and sweaters and slippers and scarves and potholders and stuffies I've forced on them blessed them with either since they were born or graduated or had a birthday or married into the family!

I'm not even bringing into the equation all of the recipes that I've collected and arranged or computerized and put into the "must bake or cook or grill" compartment in my brain. Looking back, I should have had dozens more children to feed on Sunday when we gather 'round the table for a feast to bless after Sunday church service. At least then, I would have had more bodies to force on share all my containers filled with delicious left-overs culinary delight as they stumbled walked out the door with their pants unzipped...mumbling to their spouse, "Why did you answer the phone? We have caller ID for crying out loud!"

Is there enough time, really, to make and bake and give everything that nurtures my compulsive God-given talent and pushy generous personality? Oh, who knows and who cares! I live in a town where winter lasts longer than it should. During snow-storms, with wind-chill temps hovering around -42, I am doubly warmed as I sit in the family room by the fireplace thumbing through my recipes and patterns, picking out one or two out of the millions I've collected since I was approved for holding scissors by my mother. I clutch the selections to my breast as I make mental illness note of who will be blessed with the newest creation to flow from my insanity fingertips...wondering why my sister only gave me her phone number when she moved to California fifteen years ago.

Photos of craft center and spices courtesty of MarthaStewart.com