My Hobby

Once again Harmonica Man has thrown down the gauntlet and once again I have chosen to take the bait. (I love mixing metaphors. Don't you.) Last week he wrote about his favorite hobby, which is woodworking. And if he were not already happily married I would be trying to lure him to Maine to live with me. How can you beat a man who sings, plays the harmonica, makes beautiful, useful things AND is a wonderful writer as well?

I was originally going to take a pass on the hobby challenge. I am not a "crafty" type female. I do not knit, paint, scrapbook, garden or know how to make macramed plant holders. With pride I tell you that I do not know how to operate a glue gun, allow glitter glue or finger paint in my house and sew only when there is no other option.

Since growing my children is more of a vocation then a hobby, that is out. I was going to say that cooking is my hobby because it is one of my creative outlets, but I rejected that option. Writing is also a passion of mine, but not a hobby. It is more in the way of a spiritual and emotional release. Kind of like breathing.

Then the answer came to me. I do have a hobby. It's a fairly new hobby and one I have become quite addicted to. It's free, which strongly appeals to my frugal Yankee nature. It is creative, restorative and nourishing. It is also a wonderful form of exercise. And even though I am not actually creating anything, I am always striving to improve my skills.

The only drawback is that my hobby requires a hobby buddy.

Do you think my friend will mind or even know what I'm taking about when I call him my "hobby buddy"?

Nope. I think not.