The Dabbler

I am a dabbler.

Where my husband tends to obsessively focus on a single thing, such as Lord of the Rings, and collects as many items in that category as possible until our house cannot take one more limited edition Frodo, I tend to indulge a little here, a little there.

First there was crochet. I have lots of books on crochet. I was interested enough to learn how to do a granny square, and I went on to create the most ugly afghan in the entire world, but it took me three years.  I lost interest.  Then came cross-stitch, which was fun for a bit; several cross-stitch books are on my shelves I've tried knitting, and needlepoint, but I really wasn't interested enough to complete a finished product. The books, however, were quite lovely.

There was my woodworking phase, which lasted about as long as it took me to realize that smashed thumbs really hurt. I only bought one book for that hobby, and it was on first aid.  My sewing phase ended when I broke three needles in my mother's sewing machine and was banned for life.  I ended up giving those books to Goodwill.  A brief interlude with cooking ended with my mom's kitchen in disarray, resulting in another banishment.  My vast collection of cookbooks are gathering dust.

Photography has been another hobby of mine.  I have a special camera that lets me take photos of moving objects, specifically purchased along with several books on photography.  The special camera is specifically for my son, who never stops moving long enough to sit still for a photo.  I thought about buying a special telephoto lens for the camera as well, so I can take pictures at soccer games, but I know that I will need at least one extra book to tell me how to use it.

Currently I am dabbling in jewelry making.  I've followed my usual pattern to the letter.  I saw a person wearing earrings, and I said to myself, "I can do that." That's it. That's all it takes for me to hit the starting line--the idea that I can do that.  Of course, the idea that I can do a particular craft inevitably  leads me to my very favorite place on the planet--a bookstore. I browsed for hours, leaving the store with several books on jewelry making.  Then I ran off to the hobby store to spend more hours browsing the jewelry making section.  Everything catches my eye, of course, and I left the store with a couple hundred spent in beads and the fixings for making jewelry.  My husband rolled his eyes at my purchases.

"I don't want to hear it, Mr. "I have 470 statues of Gandalf" and the sword of Elendil," I told him.

I brought all my purchases home, selected a special corner of the house and set everything up.  Then I read all of the books, and I got started. By got started, I mean that I spent the rest of the day organizing all my beads by color, just like I do with my gummi bears. Then I read my books some more. 

Two weeks later, I finally got around to trying some of what the books were talking about, and I made a bracelet.  It promptly fell apart, because I accidentally skipped the part in the instructions that dealt with that.  So I read the book again, and then purchased some more books on jewelry making.  Along the way I realized something about myself.

Books are really my hobby. 




A hobby you would pursue if you were the type to pursue hobbies.