Today I have a guest post to share with you, written by my wonderful and supportive husband...enjoy!
I am married to a very capable woman who, unlike me, has skills. She is excellent at making things, relishes time spent crafting, and is able to make wonderful, heartfelt, personalized, and (ahem) economical gifts for friends and family. I, on the other hand, never advanced past Boy Scout birdhouses (which were of poor quality). When my brother and I were little, we invited a neighbor over on Christmas day (yes, Christmas day) to assemble our toys so that we could commence playing with them. I like to think of this as the burgeoning of administrative gifts.
Needless to say, my marriage is a match made in heaven. Rebekah is omnicompetent where I am incompetent.
Being married to a crafty person does not always feel heavenly however. Take, for example, the fabric store. I don't know if I am just exceptionally supportive as a husband (I like to think so), but I find myself at the local fabric store on a regular basis. It starts out innocently enough: I am sweetly and reasonably asked if we could stop "really quickly" to pick up this "one item" that is essential to the advancement of a current project. Of course! I'm surprised I didn't think of that myself! Let's go!
I now have two choices: go in or wait in the car. Both have their pitfalls.
Go in: Perhaps fabric and craft stores spike the potpourri and scented flowers that are close to the door. We may never know. All I know is that behind those doors is a vortex of craft possibilities that drives my heretofore sweet and reasonable wife to unimagined vistas of creativity. I, meanwhile, am left following behind looking for something to occupy my time. I have spent considerable time pondering the scrapbooking section. Do you realize how many sets of themed stickers there are out there? A lot. I also have been known to attempt some sweet hip hop moves on occasion to accompany the easy listening sound tracks that play in many such stores. This makes Rebekah embarrassed. All in all, going in is preferable to "meeting" her later inside. I have, no lie, entered the same fabric store twice in a 30 minute period, walked around the entire store, and been unable to locate my wife.
Stay in the car: This can be a nice choice: put the seat back, listen to Prairie Home Companion on NPR, or (dutiful grad student that I am) spend some time reading. The only problem is that crafty wives in craft stores need their husbands to maintain contact with the outside world. Otherwise, all sense of time and the passage of days can be lost. Have you ever read anything by John Henry Newman? I have ... he's pretty dense. I have made it through large swaths of Newman with full comprehension while on a fabric store visit. Fortunately, the benefit of waiting is that the stroll from the fabric store to the parking lot clears the crafty wife's head and, by the time she reaches the car, the sweet and reasonable person is back from the the unimagined vistas of creativity.
All in all, fabric store trips are a small price to pay for having an awesome wife ... I just wish fabric stores considered the husbands and added comfortable chairs, potpourri free air, and a soda fountain.