I just finished reading a really cute and sarcastic book, A Girl Named Zippy. It's a memoir about growing up in a small town in Indiana.
I had to laugh when I read the following passage. My friends and family always tease me about by house one day being overtaken by all things homemade. Please, stop me if I ever get this crazy!
"There was a woman in our church named Rose of Sharon who was so crafty that my mom said she probably crocheted her major kitchen appliances out of steel wool. I went to a baby shower at her house one night. All the women and girls from the church were there, and we each, in the spirit of Quakerism, left the party with a gift. There were no winners. I got a purse, which Rose of Sharon had made out of a plastic butter bowl. She punched holes around the top of the bowl and attached a crocheted top with a drawstring. It was a very clever and handy design for a purse. My mom "won" a doll with a hooped skirt that covered up a roll of toilet paper, and my sister took home a hat that was made from smashed soda cans held together with yarn. Rose of Sharon's entire house was covered with her art, which feature, in addition to knitted things, yards and yards of peach and pink lace attached to the bottom of everything that wasn't moving. R.O.S. had some condition which caused her eyes to bug out so far one could nearly see her brain; my mom suggested it was probably caused from the shock and horror of waking up in that house every day."