The Day After...

Little did I know that the festivities for my birthday did not end on my actual birthday...oh no - there was more planned.

In fact a crafty friend had something more up her sleeve.  A crafty friend who would not tell me what we were doing.

At first I was taunted with directives like putting on a prom gown...


I was game.  I'd do it. I would even bring out one for her.


Luckily - I let her off the hook and the bluff was not called...
Since it was my birthday I was feeling generous. 
 All formalities, err - formal gowns out of the way, I was whisked away for some 'creative juice'...now my mind was racing.  What were we going to do???  What kind of hazing was this?

The creative juice ended up being Starbucks and our destination was a paint your own pottery place!

Now I love going to those places - but I blank.  I can never decide what to do.  I break out in a cold sweat and while I'm staring at the stencil rack like there's an eclipse - everyone else in my group is done and the girl behind the counter is asking if she can clean my paint tray.

I had to think of something and quickly. 
 
    "Here!", my friend said.

A travel mug interrupted my memorization of the ceramic bowls and kitten figurines.

So in a spark of desperation I decided to use the Starbucks cup as my inspiration.
Simple - green, off white, black.  I was finally going to finish with everyone else!

Cut to employees clearing the cups of cloudy paint filled water and my friend paying.  And where am I you ask? 

At the table sneaking in finishing touches...

So much for a quick execution.

But while I will always be the last kid at the craft table...I know I have to take the project home.  So I have to like it!

And I have to say, I do!

This day was unavoidable.

But opening my eyes this weekend '30' was there blasting the ugly wake-up call of old age.

I was determined to go about my day as though none of this aging business was upon me.
Playing hookie from work, I went out and got some ridiculously decadent coffee and decided to do some Goodwilling.

But it was there between the racks skirting the edge of the shadows panting and snarling with bloodshot eyes.
 
I hoped doing something productive like grocery shopping would take my mind off of this loathsome stalker.
Yet while buying wine at the grocery store the 80 year old cashier smirked as she handled my license.
  
    "Well, you're older than I thought", the blue-black bouffant punctuated the word older.

Whether it was the whole bottle of wine or the old age, I was pleasantly surprised to end my day with dinner at my favorite eclectic seafood restaurant.

But amidst cheesy photo ops and smoked fish dip, I received the kiss of death...
Nestled among the fanfare and well-wishes was a birthday card from my arch-nemesis.

The card spared no gentleness in emblazoning my place in the sordid caste system of the craft world.  

    "I'll assume you spent your day cross-stitching as now you are old"

I was trapped and unable to look away any longer - adulthood had me firmly in it's clutches.I suppose it was a fair and easily afforded revenge after last year's Munny decapitation cake but the stark sentiment sucker-punched me.
 
With no exit, begrudgingly I take my scarlet lettered sweatshirt of old-age craftiness.  I leave behind the lanyard bracelets and baby-food jar snow globes of childhood craftiness in search of ladies' auxiliary craft shows and spoon cozies. 

There is nothing to be done other than to grab my Maxine mug and start plotting my nemesis's next insultingly bad birthday gift.