Don’t judge me!


So, I’m going up to a friend’s house this afternoon and we will while away the day and part of tomorrow engaging in this one pastime that I don’t talk about much, because of the stigma attached to it:  we’re going to (whispering behind hand while looking away) scrapbook.

Why don’t I like to talk about this?  Well, it’s kind of like saying I LIKE BINGO, or I DRIVE A PT CRUISER WITH CUSTOM PLATES THAT TALK ABOUT GOING TO GARAGE SALES, or PLEASE GIVE ME SWEATSHIRTS WITH EMBROIDERED HOLIDAY THEMES ON THEM AND DON’T SKIMP ON THE SEQUINS. Not that there is anything wrong with those things, they just aren’t particularly ME.

I had a similarly hard time talking about going to church, and when I do talk about being a Christian I tend to get flustered and qualify it with BUT I’M NOT THAT KIND OF CHRISTIAN.  Ironically, it was much easier to come out as a lesbian than as either a Christian or a scrapbooker.  I’m fairly sure that as a scrapbooking Christian lesbian I may qualify for some kind of federal aid program.

The reasons why I got into scrapbooking are many:  firstly, I have a deep abiding love of paper, glue, tape, scissors, and suchlike.  It’s like a sickness.  Scrapbooking is tailor-made for diseased persons such as myself.  Secondly, when Delia was a baby I wanted to make her a baby book but I could not find one I liked, partly because I possess a deep-seated hatred for pastel teddy-bear festooned smarm and partly because of that whole “two moms” issue.  Plus, they are often filled with pages about crap I don’t do and I hate wasted space.  Also, the ones that I could stand were hideously expensive.  Screw this, I said, and then when I happened upon a smallish scrapbook that I thought was cute, a portentous idea  surfaced in my hormonally crazed brain.  I can scrapbook her a baby book!

So like a junkie to the dealer did I sidle unobtrusively into the nearest Massive Craft Store and thus the hoarding began.  Soon I found myself with two large rolling totes full of paper, tools, gizmos, and thingers related to committing ones’ precious memories to book form for all eternity.  I even have this thing which you feed pictures into and they come out the other side made into stickers.  (Allow me to clarify that I did receive it as a gift and did not purchase it for myself.  And you’ll never get me to admit that I secretly wanted one but wouldn’t spend the money on it.)

Stop laughing!  I SAID STOP IT!  *cry*

I still have the rolling totes although I have vastly reduced the amount of crap stuffed into them.  The baby book is pretty cute and Elder Spawn loves looking through it.  She is six now.  And every so often I furtively cram my rolling totes of scrapbooking justice into the car and drive them up to an old friend’s house so we can scrap the night away like the two wild and crazy women that we are.  Sometimes we even drink a diet soda and have some crackers with cheese!  Or maybe a cookie!  Stop me before I go plumb crazy!



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