Wednesday, February 19, 2014


I was lying in bed the other night thinking about what I was going to do the next day. The thoughts went something like this:

"I'm going to sew that headband."
"I'm going to keep knitting that scarf."
"I'm going to read that book."
"I'm going to make …"

I realized that everything I was planning on doing used the word make (or something along those lines). They were all things I was going to do with my hands. Things that I would produce. And this coming from the little girl who didn't like art class or craft time because she didn't think she was good enough. I could never recreate in real life what I dreamed up in my head. It was the perfectionist in me.

And I was happy.

Sincerely, mad

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