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Let’s see: there was the macrame-everything-in-sight phase in the ’70s, the gourmet arrangements of microscopic entrees from watching ’80s PBS cooking shows, the ’90s electric Fender guitar lessons that attracted all the cats in the area, and don’t forget the new millennium’s pastime of visiting various doctors to find out what the heck was wrong with me (turned out to be hobby-mania).
Along the way, the collections of tarot decks, music cassette tapes, woo-woo books, calligraphy sets, afghans, fish tanks, garden gadgets, and troll dolls (with a different jewel in each belly button) were dragged across the country by yours truly and ultimately dispersed at a local Goodwill near you. My favorite hobby still has to be the little wind-up TOMY toys that I would hunt down and bring out in a large shoebox to entertain the wasted at grad parties by jumping, flipping and wandering around aimlessly in circles (the toys — not me, necessarily).
And now I find myself at the end of the 21st century’s inaugural decade with very few, if any, serious hobbies.
How can this be?
Maybe I have somehow contracted pastime ADD as I find my leisure hours slowly swallowed into the abyss of adulthood. I’m a hit-and-run hobbyist, afraid to commit and burned from dropping a lot of green on tools and materials that will lie around mocking me for eons to come.
Therefore, a minimalist lifestyle is appealing to me because it eliminates much of the leisurely obsession and the pain of having to admit diversional defeat.
I confess that I’m tempted to dabble once in a while (I’m still ALIVE after all), but there are courtship rituals I must oh-so-carefully navigate:
- Only one hobby at a time. (Boy, I sure do love to hobby-hop but it gets ugly when the hobbies start to figure out that they’re not the one and only. Trust me.)
- Are you sure it’s THE one? (I’m known for putting the craft before the horse and then realizing that I’ve got cold feet. Breaking up is hard to do. Sigh.)
- Okay, you made it — now what are you going to do with it? (After you’ve covered a 10-mile radius with quilts and afghans and looped pot holders, you start eyeing an entire division of the US armed forces. Company HALT!)
- Can you handle it? (Gardening is the same as breathing for me, but when you find yourself chasing folks down the street with giant zucchini, you know you’ve got a problem. Trust me.)
- Know when to say goodbye. (I have a tendency to hang onto these relationships way too long. The custody fights can be vicious with more zucchini and more pursual down the street. See #4.)
And in the true spirit of minimalism, I will practice what I preach as outlined in #5. This post has gone on way too long.
Want More? Check out my other Minimalist Moments: