Basketweaving 101...

Do you know that joke about athletes who attend college and major in basketweaving? You know...because there is no way on God's Green earth that some of them could actually pass a real college class? Apparantly, a basketweaving class is an easy A, even for the dumb jocks (no offense to all those super athletes out there). But here's the thing. I wasn't really a dumb jock. I was a super hot cheerleader (okay, I'm exagerating, but it makes my middle-aged, 35-year-old self feel better to remember things that way). Truth be told, I had poufy, hard as a rock hair-sprayed poodle hair and I may have been a little bit on the nerdy side. Nerdy, as in good grades, advanced classes, teacher's pet kind of nerdy. But here's the kicker...I could NEVER have passed a basketweaving class. Really. I can't weave. It's the simple things that escape me. Ask my college roommates. They were education majors and had this great idea that we should weave baskets for Christmas presents one year. It was easy, economical, and cute. Except...the nerdy (and formerly hot cheerleader) chick could. not. weave.

So that's why I was very surprised (and impressed) when my friend Sheila showed up this week, sewing machine in hand. She was on a mission to teach me to sew. Me. The nerdy girl who can't weave. The good news is that Sheila majored in Special Education. She's used to us "slower" types. Ha! Gotta love that girl. And you know what? While my hot cheerleader self may be long gone, my domestic skills are improving with age. Who knew? Maybe by the time I turn 50, I'll sign up for a basketweaving class and show those athletes a thing or two.






Thanks, Sheila. You're a brave sole and I love you for it!