Gentle readers, I must share with you a dream I had two nights ago but first, I ask you not to judge me too harshly until you have read this entire post.
Do you promise to withhold judgment? Ahhh, thank you; I knew I could count on your civility and generosity.
I dreamt I was at a taping of David Letterman's show when suddenly one of the producers decided it would be great to include a craft demo in the next segment. She turned to me (somehow I was no longer in the audience but instead standing right next to her) and asked if I knew any craft projects and I (somewhat overzealously and with more than a little conceit) replied, "Of course, I know
hundreds."
"Great, you'll be on in 5 minutes."
Undaunted, I rapidly sorted through the amazing mound of art supplies that inexplicably appeared around me, and spied a little handmade booklet that I thought would be the perfect project. No matter that I hadn't made said little booklet, or that I didn't know its dimensions or if I had the correct supplies on hand. Being an intrepid artgirl I figured I could improvise something snappy.
I quickly arranged little bowls of supplies in a pleasing configuration while I tried to mentally deconstruct the booklet's construction. All of a sudden I was told, "Make sure you look right into the camera" and ladies and gentlemen, it was showtime!
Trouble was...I had nothin'. Zip. Nada. Zilch. A big goose egg.
I looked at the nifty little booklet and gamely tried to guess at its dimensions and suggest what materials to use (it was no coincidence that the materials I used for the Junque Journal workshop at the Art Party came to mind). I realized I should have spent more of my precious preparation time figuring out HOW TO MAKE THE PROJECT rather than merchandizing the supplies. After about a minute of mumbling and stumbling I realized that they were no longer taping me and had in fact, moved on to something else.
It was basically the artgirl's equivalence of dreaming you're naked in public or unprepared for that big test.
Sigh.
In my defense, I have identified several factors that no doubt contributed to this disturbing tale...
First, my dear friends Maureen and Terri were recently defending David Letterman in light of his recent scandal. In fact, they named their Tuesday evening Trivial Pursuit team after his production company (Worldwide Pants) as a means of defiant protest. Thus, David Letterman was on my mind.
Second, those same two dear friends were just discussing how they hope to go to a taping of Oprah's show some day. Thus, being at a talk show taping was on my mind.
Third, one of those same two dear friends (hint...NOT Terri) texted me a few mornings ago that she had had a disturbing dream about me greeting her at the door of my squalid apartment, pregnant and about to give birth, whereupon we proceeded to toss my ratty and smelly old furniture out of the windows. I will spare my Gentle Readers the remaining details, lest you be offended and possibly even require medical intervention. Nevertheless, disturbing dreams were on my mind.
Fourth, I recently was scheduled to
hold a Stitched Paper Demo to which I arrived late (and highly) apologetic. A bad combination of being ill-prepared (heading north without printed directions) and encountering heavy traffic led to my tardiness. The hosts and guests were more than gracious and the evening went well, but the sting of ill preparation lingers yet.
There you have it, Gentle Readers, a look into the workings of my mind, it both its waking and sleeping states. Do with it what you will, but again, I throw myself upon your compassion and mercy.
The moral of all this? Make like a Boy Scout and be prepared!
These are 2 of my most favorite goofball things in my entire art room. I purchased the chipmunk pincushion several years ago (have you ever seen such a ridiculously jaunty expression on a chipmunk?) Then my crazy friend Maureen made me (or should I say made the chipmunk) the pink cat companion pincushion. It's pretty much impossible not to smile looking at the sheer silliness of them...
A girlfriend of mine (Maureen…you know it's you) told me about a "friend" who famously misunderstood the lyrics to the old classic, The First Cut is the Deepest. According to Maureen, this friend thought the words were, "Baby I know…the birds covet the people". Which is pretty damn funny. I mean, why on earth would anyone actually write a song about birds being really sad and downtrodden because they want to be more like us????
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