My name is Dawn.

I am NOT crafty.

I didn't say I wasn't creative. I am a fantastic bow maker, after all. But whipping up something from scratch a la Martha Stewart? So not my forte. That's why I've honed my skills as a bargain huntress. So I can buy the stuff that I covet. Ready-made.

But sometimes my wants, the retail clearance calendar and my current cash flow are a bit out of sych. And I start living in a fantasy world. One where funky holiday wreaths can be constructed cheaply and perfectly. Using only my hands.

Fortunately, this experience, as most things in life, has become yet another lesson just waiting to be learned. Mmm-hmm. My take-away? Much like grief, there are seven stages of DIY (Do It Yourself? Nope. That's Don't Irritate Yourself), ready and waiting for the non-crafter. And, oddly enough, I've survived them all. Again.

Stage One: Inspiration

Behold exhibit A

And exhibit B

Amazing right? And whipped up last weekend, in the basement, by my husband. Next time this happens, I need to say aloud: Dude has an art degree. Not: Oh yeah. Let the crafting competition begin. Because someone will lose. Handsomely.

Stage Two: Excitement

Crafty bloggers. You suck. I'm not hating on your amazing abilities. I'm calling you out for managing to make your projects look completely effortless. For everyone. That dollar store Christmas ball wire wreath you were pimping out for $6 and boasting that it would only take half an hour to complete? I excitedly bought in. Sucka.

Stage Three: Smugness

Oh, I got this. Sure, the final cost may have risen to $20, thanks to the lingerie bags, bubble envelopes and other assorted impulsive crap I 'needed' for a buck apiece. But, not only do I have all the materials on hand, courtesy of my no shame act of cracking into a stock box or two, but I also showcased my mad improvisational skills. Indeed. Watch as I magically transform 15 feet of garland into one illusive wire hanger.

Stage Four: Pride

Granted it may be 4:30am (don't ask) and I'm keeping the goldfish awake, but I've managed to not only go all MacGyver on the plastic garland, ripping it down to its base wire, but successfully completed the tedious ornament stringing process. All before the sun came up. I rocked. All the way back to bed.

Stage Five: WTF

One step left. Secure the sucker. And that's when things start to go drastically wrong. An easy five minute job, ha-HA, turns into an hour of intense irritation. I am ready to smash all of this shiny red goodness with one World Wresting two footed stomp. Go on. Try me.

Stage Six: Recovery

Art Degree husband saves the day (and wreath) by casually whipping out a glue gun. Fa-la-la-la-la. I hate him.

Stage Seven: Acceptance

AKA: The Non-Crafters Prayer. Dear Crafting: I accept that I am a perfectionist, as well as creatively impatient. I accept that these characteristics do not bode well for crafting. Also: I accept that I do not enjoy crafting. At all. Ever. In fact, I'd rather pull out my toenails one by one. But most of all, I accept that there is a distinct danger of relapse...