Your One-Stop Hobbie Shop...

As I am a self-diagnosed sufferer of attention deficit disorder, I tend to get bored easily. Therefore, it's hard for me to find a hobby and stick with it. Over the years, I've collected things, cooked things, colored things, written things, sewed things, crafted things, and, quite frequently, broken things.

I need a new hobby.

Here's some of the things I've tried, and discarded:

I've collected these little ceramic heart dishes. Collecting things is fun, if you've a lot of patience. I, of course, do not. I did have fun collecting these things and the prize of my collection was a big, beautiful heart shaped covered dish, found underneath my favorite great-aunt's house, buried in dirt and goo, and picked up and cleaned up for me by my cousin Bea, just after my great aunt died. I treasured it. I collected the hearts for several years, picking them up at yard sales, and getting them as gifts from family and friends. When I had over 200 of them, I decided that cleaning them sucked big whale ba-dingies. And so I put them away.

For several years, I sewed all my kids' Halloween costumes. Thing 1 was, over the years, a Hershey's kiss, a crayon, a bumblebee, a mouse, a pig, a jester, a frog. Thing 2 was, among other things, a crayon, a pumpkin, a skunk, a scarecrow, a cow, Raggedy Ann, and a sumo wrestler. I made some stuffed dolls, some pillows, and some pajama pants. Sewing only once or twice a year helped me make sewing one of my longest running hobbies. I chucked it when my kids quit dressing up for Halloween.

Crochet is my second longest hobby. My grandmother taught me to crochet, when I was about 8 or 9, I think. It was really difficult for me to learn, as I was left handed, and my grandmother was right handed. The difficulty level is still high at times, as patterns are written for right handed people. Most of the time, it's not a problem. But sometimes, as in the case of a giant afghan I made for my mother, it's a nightmare. I basically had to do each new stitch I learned backwards, and that damned afghan took me FOREVER to make. But it was and still is beautiful. As far as crochet goes, it is my crowning achievement. I've never made anything as pretty. Crochet is something I can only do in the winter, and then only in fits and starts. Because of the boredom factor. And also because I smoke. It's hard to use one hand to smoke and two hands for crochet. In case you can't count that's three hands, and that's one more than I currently possess.

Reading... now that's been my lifelong crack addiction. Brother 2 taught me to read when I was four. I haven't stopped yet. My mother never put any restrictions on anything I read and, as a kid, one of my biggest thrills was going to yardsales and finding books I had not yet read. As a kid, who am I kidding? It's STILL one of my biggest thrills. I love new books. I love old books. I love the shape of them, the compactness, the fact that there's a whole other world waiting for me between those two covers. I'm a lot more picky about what I read now. I can afford to be. There are so many good books out there. And more are being written every day. Dude, I hope I don't die before I get all the books I want to read READ.

I went through a cooking phase, when my mother was sick. That was more or less motivated by need, rather than desire. My mom would only eat foods that were cooked in that down home, country cookin' way. I learned, in the space of a few months, how to make cornbread, pinto beans, green beans and new potatoes, "killed" lettuce, meatloaf, potato soup, chicken and dumplings, cole slaw, potato salad, and baked beans. I used to brag that if it didn't come in a bag, a box or a can, I wouldn't make it. My mother would not eat anything from a bag, a box, or a can. I can make a mean cobbler too, any fruit that suits your fancy. I've made 'em all, I think.

I've written poetry, short stories, and porn. Yes! Porn! Ok, I guess technically, you would call it erotica, but dude, a rose, by any other name, is still porn. Most of my poetry sucks wildebeast balls. Oh, OH!! If I can find the one I wrote called "Memories" I literally have to post in on here for your enjoyment. I'm ashamed to tell you how old I was when I wrote it, but let me just say I was older than 12, and younger than 16. 'nuff said. Once, in 4th grade, I wrote a ghost story that won me a stuffed rabbit. I have no idea why the prize was a rabbit, but it was beautiful and I won it. I gotta find that story too, because, Dudes, at 9? I was da' bomb. As far as writing ghost stories, that is.

My crafting left much to be desired, but I was doggedly determined. I've made a bazillion of those goofy sweatshirts that you make by ironing on a picture, then painting around that picture with puffy paint. I've made them for valentines day, thanksgiving, halloween, and christmas. I've made an INFINITE number of tree ornaments. I've made those little beaded key chains that look like animals, and bracelets braided out of string.

I've made thousands of cookies, candies, fried apple pies, muffins, and cakes. That's why I'm so fat, doncha know. Because candy making? Is a delicious, albeit expensive, hobby.

I've been through various spells of coloring, jigsaw puzzles, solitaire, crossword puzzles, checkers, backgammon, rook, and uno. I've never learned how to play poker or chess. I can kick ass at scrabble, as I've mentioned before. I love sudoku, and have probably 7 or 8 books lying around, in the living room, kitchen, bathroom, at work and in my car. I've even got a few stuck in my purse, from my sudoku calendar, in case I get stuck in line at Wal-Mart, with nothing to do.

And so here I find myself, nearly forty-four years old. Bored out of my fucking empty skull. I don't know what to try next. Forget photography, I have no eye for it, and don't give a shit HOW cameras work, I only care that they do, when I point and click. Forget ceramics, it bores me shitless. Forget gardening, because there ARE BUGS OUT THERE. AND DIRT!! And dirt is DIRTY. Forget sports, because I have a strict policy: I will only run if someone is chasing me. And then only if they have a knife. Forget belly dancing, my belly already dances, thank you very much, with each step I take. Forget piano or guitar, my hands will not do different things at the same time.

What's left? Well, I've narrowed it down to three choices. And I can't make up my mind. So, I'm asking you, dearest internets, to vote on "Miss Ann Thrope's New Hobby". Here are your choices:

1. Lesbian Crack-Whore

2. Spelunker.

3. Prestidigitator.

Vote early. Vote often. Pick me a hobby. Boredom = UNFUN Miss Ann.