Feeling

crafty? You should. March is National Craft Month, and

it's time to drag all those unfinished ceramic Santas and

half-decoupaged napkin holders out of their hiding places

and complete them!

This

directive is not for you Martha Stewart wanna-be's whose

homes are showcases for their creativity. It's for the

closet crafters like me who could open a Michael's

clearance center with all the paints, pots, styrofoam and

fabric they've accumulated over the years and never used.

Sifting

through my oversized Tupperware bins of craft items is

like unearthing a time capsule. On the very bottom of the

largest and oldest tub are spools of hemp from the

macrame days. Remember those lovely hanging plant holders

from the `70s? Right beside that ugly brown twine is a

collection of crochet needles and neon colored skeins of

wool, remnants of the cool crocheted vests I made one

Christmas for everyone including my Uncle Bill.

Decoupage

paste and sealer, plus an assortment of wooden plaques,

are crammed into a corner along with a book of Rod McKuen

poems. Beside that is an envelope chock-full of

needlepoint designs, embroidery floss and leftover key

chains from the monogram year.

Into the

1980s and the beginning and rapid end of my smocking

phase - when you live in Charleston, S.C. and have a

baby, it's understood that new mothers take up this

tedious craft and sew cute little puffy-sleeved dresses

for their daughters and gingham rompers stitched with

tiny train engines and puppies for their sons.

I took the

classes, bought the supplies and made exactly two items

- an inset for a boy's romper with the definitive

choo-choos stitched in red and a christening outfit which

life-sized Barbie now wears as a nightgown.

Members of

my family shudder when the infamous christening gown

comes up in conversation. Sewing what I thought would be

a "family heirloom" put me on the verge of a

nervous breakdown. For three weeks, I stitched and

knotted white embroidery thread on white batiste, sewed

French seams and finally got the neckline closure done

ten minutes before we left for the church and my first

child's Baptism.

My original

idea to embroider the names and dates of all the lucky

babes to wear this original creation got canned the

minute my son spit up on the pleated front.

I did not

craft again until those puffy paints and sweatshirts hit

the scene.

Since then,

I've invested untold hours and dollars into low heat and

inferno-hot glue guns, stick-on jewels, popsicle sticks,

beads, feathers and Fimo clay. I have pillow forms

awaiting covers, beads begging for string and rose

stencils and pouncing brushes getting stiff.

Fortunately

I have a daughter who was born with a craft talent that

goes beyond crayons and sand art. So Martha, watch out!

The next generation has glue guns poised and ready to

shoot. These young ladies are on the cutting edge of the

ethnic bead trend and can paint lady bugs and dragonflies

on wood faster than you can say "chenille

stem."

So if you

can't see to read the directions anymore without your

magnifier half-glasses, turn over the fusible web to your

offspring and just wait until Christmas.

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