Do-it-yourself is something I wish I had more interest in, but I’ve done it myself enough times to know that it’s best not to. I no longer believe the HGTV promise that anyone can do it. I know I can’t. I’ve been disappointed too many times.
I have confidence in myself when it comes to a lot of things, but over the years I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m seriously lacking in a few life skills. I bumble around with most things mechanical, I don’t have a full plate of common sense, and math is not my best friend. In fact, we’re not even friendly acquaintances. I must have been distracted when they were handing out artistic ability, I can’t carry a tune in a bucket, and I’ve been called absent minded more than once.
Unless I’m totally committed, it’s far too easy to stop before I’m done with a project. That’s why I’m swearing off DIY. Well, that and the fact that I’m usually disappointed with the quality of whatever I’ve attempted. It’s just not fun and I’m at the point in life where if it’s not fun, I don’t have to do it.
I once thought I could paint walls. And actually what I paint is passable, but again, I usually stop before I’m finished. The two blue walls and two coral walls of my daughter’s bedroom testify to that tendency. I don’t even see the multi-color walls anymore. I’m calling in the professionals now.
If paint or sanding or a power drill are called for, count me out. I’ve also disabled two push mowers in the last week, so I’m swearing off yard work and really shouldn’t be trusted with anything motorized other than a car, and that’s only because I’d have to work too hard at damaging it.
We recently furnished a new farmhouse, buying most of the furniture online. I’m not sure what I expected, but a dresser in fifteen pieces in a cardboard box was not it. Thankfully, my more mechanically inclined husband shouldered the load of combining those pieces into something recognizable. Next time, if there is a next time, I’m visiting a furniture store.
I’m not an artist and I’m definitely not a mechanic, but I can hold my own in crafts. I honed that skill in Girl Scout meetings at the First Presbyterian Church where I earned my crafts badge by creating things. Among my most prized projects was a cardboard Tampa Nugget cigar box covered with glued-on shell macaroni. The whole thing was then spray painted silver. On the top left corner I attached a small plastic wedding doll figurine. For what purpose, I really don’t know. I apparently just couldn’t stop gluing things.
Girl Scout troop leaders and Vacation Bible School planners had a corner on the macaroni market, as just about every craft had something to do with shell or penne pasta. Strung together painted penne made a killer necklace, and I’m sure my mom appreciated the repurposed high-heel shoe she donated for the VBS project at the Baptist church. I coated the shoe with shell macaroni, including the pencil thin high heel, spray painted it completely, and attached a pink plastic flower to the tip. I think it was supposed to be a vase for the table. That or a weapon for self defense.
Following the macaroni phase, I progressed to more classic decoupage projects, producing beautiful collaged recipe boxes and wall hangings. Until it flaked off completely, I was pretty proud of my salt dough map of the 67 Alabama counties, and my mom seemed to prize every single clay ring holder or ash tray I gave her for those special occasions in her life while I was a student at Kilby Elementary. Paint-by-number was right up my unartistic alley and construction paper chains for the Christmas tree were in abundant supply.
In short, I’m a crafter. Sort of. But I will not attempt DIY projects that are of any critical nature. I have friends in the house rental business who do it all, from painting walls to refinishing floors. They laminate important documents and label everything that needs identifying with one of those embossing label makers. They even fix their own appliances. They apparently have a whole lot more free time than I do. I’m in awe.
I’m sure I could learn to be a bit more adept at doing things for myself, but I readily recognize my shortcomings and think it best not to. I’d rather work double time to make the money to pay someone else to do whatever needs to be done that requires any inkling of artistic or mechanical skill.
And yet, I can’t help marveling at those Pinterest projects and find myself inspired occasionally. You won’t yet find me on a Pinterest Fail board, though, because you have to try in order to fail. But still.
Actually, I did sneak a peek at Pinterest this morning and found a project that I really think might be possible. It’s an adorable centerpiece that only requires empty glass Coke bottles, dried beans, food coloring, artificial flowers, and colored tape. And I’m equally inspired by the one where you create a paint-by-number from a photo. Since I know I’m good at paint by number, that one just might be a keeper.
I think my daughter would be thrilled to get an original paint-by-number of her kindergarten graduation picture when she earns her graduate degree from OSU. How could she not? I’ll include a quote I also found on my Pinterest visit today–“She turned her can’ts into cans and her dreams into plans.”
Some can’ts can be turned into cans, but I know my limits. I’ve lived long enough to have too many, and I’m perfectly OK with that. I can’t help but be amused by that classic Nike ad campaign to accept no limits, to just do it. They obviously don’t know me.
