I mentioned feeling the creepy urge to DIY… do it yourself, in case those reading are somehow craft incompetent, and I admit… once I begin these cathartic little projects, I just can’t stop.  I stand there for hours, generally hovering (though not literally) over the kitchen island while being nearly intoxicated by the incessant happy dance going on inside my head, in lieu of this fluid individuality.  (Ha) It’s like some craft recreational drug, I’m thinking!  

The artistic voice beckons as ideas flow like water, and by the end…  I’m completely befuddled by the Holy Grail of stuff that I’ve somehow managed to create.  Not that I’m braggadocios, this is just how it is.  So there I am, standing in the kitchen with an exacto knife in one hand and an uber-sharp pair of scissors in the other, and whilst this celebratory craft-climax, the lacerated result (of that once basic Hanes T-shirt) looks as though Freddy Krueger had a field day.