Oooh grammy...

Craft stores are great. They really really are. When I was younger, I would take trips to Mac's Crafts and Hobbies with my mom and take great delight in spotting all the ladies who spent their free time there - you know the ones - donning comfy cotton mock turtleneck shirts bejeweled with glitter and beads, which flowed gloriously over their stretch pants (of some contrasting color which made a brief appearance on their shirt somewhere), which were tucked neatly inside their socks, which eased into squeaky pink sneakers. They would ooh and aah over some really cute pattern for a Christmas tree skirt. They would marvel, "Wow, Bonnie, you'd never know by just glancing at these azaleas that they're artificial, would you?" They would know exactly in which aisle you would find foam wreaths, or assorted felts. They were decorating Wilton cakes decades before I was even born.

Of course at the time, I never gave a thought to the fact that I, too, was shopping at a craft store - probably because of my age, and probably because I was there to buy poster board or spray paint for school projects. It was probably because I didn't fit into my own stereotype - I was making castles out of sugarcubes while they were making Thanksgiving centerpieces.

Now I realize that part of my pleasure in scouting those ladies out was probably because I knew, someday, I just might be one of them.

So I went to Michael's the other day to buy some yarn and other craft supplies for my kitschy treasures. (But I will take this opportunity to note that I was very smartly dressed in nice jeans and heels, a coat that, just today, was mistaken for a Vera Wang, and nothing about my outfit was bejeweled.) A few things about this place concerned me right off the bat.
1. The only music that filled the store was from a light display for a person's front lawn that played America's favorite carols in an electronic, minor key.
2. The overwhelming scent of cinnamon was enough to make me forget that it is a spice and not a chemical.
3. Anorexic tree figurines. Mrs. Claus is having a really bad year, apparently.