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There's something about craft stores that make me want to vomit. I, like everyone else in the world consider myself to be the next huge something. I feel I posses super human artistic powers that need to be unleashed for world domination. Where, oh where, I ask myself, do I take this artistic fury that needs an outlet? My local Michael's. That's where.

It was where I went the day before Mother's Day, when I swore I was a scrap bookie? Scrapper? Scrap person that makes books from paper. I knew I had it in me to punch out not one, but two Mother's day masterpieces. My mother in law would love me finally, and my place as favorite daughter would forever be sealed in my mother's eyes once I produced every mother's dream: Pictures of her children in various stages of life, past through present. Ever single moment that made momma proud would be captured and cut out with stickers and fancy calligraphy. Sure it was my first time doing both, but I figured, I've got talent, I haven't just survived on good looks alone.

Man, I couldn't wait to see the look on the Maria (my mom) and B's face (his mom) when they gazed upon my Van Pica Monhol. Pedicures and plants would pale in comparison to what I was about to produce. Sure it was Friday afternoon at the grind, and the only reason I had waited so long to buy presents was because I was waiting for inspiration, not to see what everyone else had bought for Maria and B. My intentions were not to outshine siblings on both sides of our family.

As soon as the call came in from my field agent (husband) regarding the mediocre but very thoughtful gifts everyone was buying the mommas, it was like five thousands flashbulbs went off in my head. Now that I think about it, they had a reddish tint, but at the time I interpreted it as passion. Passion for what I was about to create.

I took and extended lunch and my assistant to the nearest Michael's. There we spent the next 2 hours sorting through albums and cut outs of babies, graduation hats, weddings, policemen, teachers, ballerinas, tattoos, gall bladder stones, military, vacations, all of life's most memorable moments. Scissors with blades of glory in shapes of clovers, horse shoes and diamonds. Construction paper in colors with names like Fig, Ambrosia, Venetian Plaster and Holiday.

Finally pleased that I had purchased all two aisles of what I would need as a professional scrapper, Assistant and I loaded the car and headed back to work. But wait! I forgot the calligraphy markers. Not only

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