I made an attempt to participate in a crafting project at a Relief Society meeting tonight. This was totally out of character for me. I still feel a knot of anxiety in my stomach when I think about a dried flower/painted wood misadventure I had nearly 20 years ago. I'd forgotten my keys that night, and when I got home and Roger opened the front door for me, I just stood there on the steps holding my pathetic creation in my hands, tears rolling down my cheeks.
Tonight was another epic fail.
It was a simple project. Really. All I needed to do was tape a stencil of my last name onto our 9 x 13 Pyrex pan, glop some etching goop on it, wait a while, then rinse it off. Inexplicably it didn't take. Or maybe I'm just cursed when it comes to crafting.
This time, though, I laughed.
Having our name etched on our baking pan is a brilliant idea. I wouldn't have to use masking tape and a marker to label it when I make up a batch of funeral potatoes anymore.
The nice neighbor who organized the project said she will help me try again tomorrow.
2 comments:
I received one of those as a gift last Christmas and really am grateful, it'll always make it back home from wherever I leave it.
Please don't take this badly, but you made me giggle. I found myself imagining that this was a big deal. Or that someone thought it was. That by having your name on your dish it would significantly change your life.
You are skilled in other areas. I believe your time has been well used in becoming who you are. Seriously, let someone else etch your dish. You keep shaping minds and touching hearts and you'll be just fine.
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