I Have An Addictive Personality

I’m not talking about drugs.

My first addiction was macrame. I became obsessed. I would macrame anything that could be macrameed, from jewelry to hanging pot holders. I would finish one project and instantly start on another. I’ll never forget when my husband got out of bed and came into the kitchen to find me working on a hanging pot holder that was suspended from the ceiling. His remark was, “Do you realize it’s 3 a.m.?” My reply was, “I’m almost finished.” With that, he turned around and went back to bed.

My next obsession was crochet, and that lasted until I had more Afghans than I knew what to do with and had to find another hobby. Next, I took oil painting classes but decided I wasn’t very good, so that was short-lived. From there, it was quilting classes, but I learned that I liked designing the tops, but I wouldn’t say I liked the batting and quilting part. So onward and upward.

The next and longest-lasting hobby was rug hooking. I’m not talking about the latch hook that was popular several years ago. Actual rug hooking has a long history. I stuck with that because we did it as a group, and the camaraderie was part of the fun.

We’re tidier with our wool strips than this gentleman, and we do our hooking on a frame. My husband used to love to tell people that his wife was a hooker. He loved the expression on their face until he explained that I hook rugs.

I hope some of you can relate to my addictions—the curse of the artsy-crafty types.