Obsessions

Obsessions can be a good thing sometimes. I mean, after all, being obsessed about finding my great-grandpa's Civil War records is what actually helped me find his war records! When I first started tracing my family tree, my aunt had said those horrible and yet magical words, "I've tried everywhere for those Civil War records and can't find them." In this respect, I am very much like my character, Torie O'Shea. The fact that those records exist and nobody could find them only made me want to find them all the more! It took me two years, and I eventually found them. Who knew that there could be so many different places to try to locate Civil War records? At any rate, when they arrived, I stood at my mail box, overwhelmed with joy, swiping tears away. Pretty silly, huh?
Here's a few other things I get obsessed over: Fabric. I'll buy fabric and then tell myself, "well, now you don't need anymore fabric for a while." And then, some jerk will have a huge sale, like 50% off and I just can't resist. And if I really like a fabric, I want to collect it in every color or every shade. It's pretty bad when the ladies at the quilt stores and fabric stores know me by name . . . and my kid's names and which quilt I was working on last! (But those are the best kinds of quilt stores, when everybody there knows you.) I often think about my obsession for fabric, knowing I'll probably NEVER use all of it, and yet . . . I can't stop. What is it about fabric that does this to me?
Books is another thing I obsess over. I love the feel of books, the smell of books, the colors involved, the font, you name it. (Yes, I will be very depressed when the day comes that you have to go to a museum to see a book, because all books will be published electronically.) Heck, I'll pick up a book and read it just because it looks cool. And I need to be surrounded by them, like they're oxygen or sunlight. A house with no books? Argh. Horrible. Depressing.
Pictures. I love pictures. Can't take enough pictures. Heck, I even ask my friends to take pictures of themselves on vacation and give me a few. I was one of those mothers that the photography studio loved to see coming. What do you mean I can only buy one pose of my cute little three-year-old for $14.95? I have to pay how much a sheet for the additional poses? Okay, well, we can do without bread this week. And . . . peanut butter. And if I'm real careful, maybe even toilet paper. . . . .
Plants! Gosh, I swear, it's like they're calling out to me when I pass them in the nursery. "Buy me, plant me. I'm going to fade away here if you don't take me home with you." Okay, not really, but you get the picture. I firmly believe you can never have enough plants, enough flowers, or enough roses. My husband disagrees with me and just shakes his head every time I pull some living green thing out of the backseat of my car. Now, I get a lot of free plants, too. I went to my aunt's house a few weeks ago and came back with 3 tubs of bulbs and about 7 different bushes. She's just as obsessed as I am, but we won't go there.
I'd like to open a quilt/nursery/bookshop. I mean, how much fun would that be? When you buy a yard of fabric you get a free hollyhock or herb. I'd shop there.
I also obsess over ancestors. I know my fifteenth great-grandpa had to have a dad. Who was he? Isn't it enough that I have that branch of my tree traced back to 1370, no I have to have it back to 1290?
Yeah, that's me, obsession girl. I also obsess over some not-quite-as-fun things like whether or not the stove is off or if that spider I killed is actually dead, but we won't talk about those.
So, in two weeks I'm going to get up at 5 a.m and take a bus with my guild down to Paducah and back in one day. All so I can go see the quilt museum and this years crop of the best quilts (the best ones entered in their show, anyway) which comes to about 500 quilts. 500 quilts? Is that all? Why not 600? Or 700?
This is why my family tells my husband he has a free pass into heaven.
Rett MacPherson