When Cows Fly
I think we've established several things about me here:
That I can't could stop buying fabric anytime. ANY time.
That I have a lot of ideas for projects that I may or may not ever finish.
That I really like chocolate baked goods.
That I am capable of turning the simplest project into a major psychological inquest.
If you are like me, you are probably familiar with the phrase, "When cows fly." For clarity, I give you these examples of its usage: Me: I need $35. See, I'm going to buy this broken heap that used to be furniture thrift store table and fix it up and refinish it and use it for our dining table! Hubby: Yeah, when cows fly. Me: Honey, I need $55. See, I'm going to buy these 4,382 tattered gently loved shirts from the bins* and cut them up and make a business selling them to quilters interested in using recycled fabric. Eco Quilters! Hubby: Sure, honey, when cows fly. Me: Honey, I need to pay U-store-it $132 a month because I need a place for this massive pile of crap that's crammed into every nook and cranny of our attic and makes my studio look like a Habitrail stuff for three lifetimes worth of labor-intensive projects that would make the most steadfast person crumble with exhaustion a couple of projects that I'm going to do. Hubby: When? Me:Hopefully sometime in my lifetime, but probably not in the foreseable future. Next week. Hubby: Right. You mean when cows fly. To his credit, I'm paraphrasing. What he usually says in real life is something like, "Honey, I know your delicate creative spirit needs these projects to feel like there is hope in the world, but do you really think it's realistic that you'll get to them given the unholy crush of ever-growing, soul-sucking menial tasks you must do trying to save us all from drowning in filth and outdated home decor?" Oh wait, that was me. He usually says, "Honey, I know you intend to do these things, but do you really think it's realistic given what's on your plate?" And he's not the only one. I've been facing this complete reality check lack of faith my whole life. Parents, teachers, ex-boyfriends, fabric store owners. You name it, they've all said, in not so many words, "When cows fly." Well, today, I have something to say. Not just for me, but for all of us who have been shackled and oppressed by the machine that wants to keep us down, keep us working at jobs that don't fulfill us, picking up after people who don't understand us and performing for people who don't appreciate us. For all of us who are so gifted with creativity that maybe we do have a few more projects in mind than we could get to. For those of us who are proud of their creativity and their too-many-projects and still believe, despite years of evidence to the contrary, that we could, through some miracle, actually get to it all. For all of us, from all of us, to those who have doubted us, lacked faith in our vision, and refused to drink our particular brand of idealistic, overenthusiastic crafting kool-aid: Meet Bessie. * Where I live "the bins" is a colloquial term for special Goodwill stores (a charity secondhand store) where the clothing is $0.89 per pound and the furniture sells for rock bottom prices, usually because no one wanted it while it was at the regular Goodwill for regular prices.