Rag Bag Brag: Go Big or Go Home, Without Leaving Home

Before the pandemic, I'd never made what I've now lovingly come to call my barrette brooches (barrettes so big you can clip them to your blouse, belt, or bag to tell the world that you have an unhealthy fixation with sunsets or cupcakes or swans well before having to utter so much as a "Sorry I gave Fluffy that Snickers".)  No, before masks became as mandatory as underwear, I limited my hair flair creations to a still-large but respectable size.  But I guess spending so much time with my felt gave me ideas, because before I knew it, I was crafting scenescapes and a bunch of other stuff on "canvases" that rivalled a gunslinger's belt buckle.  It was such fun digging through my colorful stash and imagining endlessly weird and wonderful worlds.  (And yes, I realize how that sounds, but despite what that post on Regretsy said, no wacky tobacky was used in the making of these fine products.)  Soon the barrette brooches were piling up, leaves, moons, and tulips fighting for space in my cluttered craft room.  I stored the ones I listed in boxes.  But that left me with just as many that I planned to keep.  So I started hanging them on the kites around one of my windows.  Nearly three years later, almost the entire window frame is covered.  Which means just one thing: it's time to start adorning window number two.

After that, who knows?  Maybe I'll rig up some sort of inverted Maypole contraption from the ceiling.  But one thing's for sure.  No matter how much square footage I squander, I'll "never stop never stopping" making barrette brooches.  

Just like Andy Samberg in Popstar.