Reader Participation Moment

Dear loyal devotees (i.e. you silent masses),

I would like less silence and more mass-ness, so I am offering you all a series of opportunities to speak up and join in. For the first installment of the Amuse Me series, I invite you to share your worst crafting disaster. To give a glimpse into what I mean by craft disaster, I have fabricated an example from sheer force of imagination that bears absolutely no relation to how events actually unfolded in anyway.

Fictionalized account of a totally hypothetical disaster:

One day, I [not really 'I' of course as this is a complete tissue of lies] went to the Blanton and saw a piece by a woman who had taken rice paper and twisted it into ropes that she then had knitted into a net-like structure. It was delicate and absolutely captivating. I decided to replicate the basic design, but replace the rice paper with newspaper (as I always have tons lying about the house) and since I am not so into the whole transience-of-life schtick (e.g. cut flowers and I are mortal enemies), I decided to use papier mache to make the structure more durable (I do realize the contradiction of being attracted to delicacy in other people’s work and adverse to it in my own, no real defense for that…). So I took practically an entire pound of floor and dumped it into a bucket with water. I soaked the newspaper (god knows why), which made it break apart in clumps rather than twist. I managed a few half-hearted loops before releasing a primal scream of frustration and chucking everything into the trashcan. Days go by and I began to notice a smell…one that defies description, although rancid malt liquor would be a good runner up. In the haze of my exasperation, I had forgotten to dump out the bucket of flour-goo (those of you who know me well might note the striking similarity to the dreaded bean incident) and had left it sitting in the corner of my kitchen. The goo had risen somehow (I swear I was not so dumb as to have put yeast in…) and gone very, very bad. In shame I moved to Ohio and changed my name to something outlandish [yet another sign of the obvious mendacity of the above story: the real I would never move to Ohio]. So it goes.

If anyone can top that your prize will be a hat and/or scarf (as the muse takes me) knit by yours truly. Obviously if you are a stranger, the pride and glory will have to suffice.

*So as not to discriminate against non-crafters, I will accept any random story (keep it clean folks) as an entry.

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