The Last Temptation of Craft

I imagine you are as sick and tired of Michael’s as I am, so I will spare you the details of the next six trips, but I have personally documented my pain and suffering for insurance purposes. Sadly, I started to be recognized by the CraftMasters. I started to think silk flowers weren’t that bad.

My final task was to acquire some blue sparkly rhinestones and craft glue to construct a handmade message of love on the underside of Christa’s wedding shoes. (I even knew what aisle to go to.) This was some cute idea from a bridal magazine. I don’t recall how I was talked into it. I returned home, had my tools, and was ready to roll.

“Where are the shoes?” I said. “I’ll be done in no time.”

“You can’t do it now. You must do it on the day of the wedding, so I won’t see it.”

Are you simply not aware of the disease I am fighting? I put on a brave face each evening, so you won’t worry. But I have been to Michael’s seven times in what seems like the last thirty minutes, and now, during your scheduled two-hour champagne-enhanced hair appointment with the ladies, on the day of our wedding, I must complete a craft project?

“Are you going to make me anything?” I asked in return.

“Sweetie, I have enough to worry about that day,” she replied.

“Well, I don’t think that’s…”

“You’ll have me as your wife. Won’t that be the best gift ever?” she continued quickly.

Damn your infernal cuteness.

“This won’t work at Christmas, just so you know.”
- Drew Lloyd
From "Will You?" to "I Do.": A Groom's Tale of Survival