Like most of the great things in my life, becoming an artist was entirely accidental. Art came on gradually, sneaking into my mind on padded feet, slowly oozing into the dusty corners of my skull. (Yes, my skull has corners. Doesn't yours?) "Make a greeting card," it whispered. "Just one. You can quit any time you want."

One card led to another. The crafting projects became more and more complicated. Soon I was addicted to arcane potions like gesso, acrylic ink, and gel medium. No old book was safe from my scissors. Anything that fit under my sewing machine needle acquired stitches in the middle of the night. My face developed a nervous twitch when I wasn't holding a paintbrush. I neglected my family, ignoring their pleas to give up my cursed hobby. I had fallen into the abyss, and there was no one to save me.

Finally, I met my husband, Tim. Of course, it was too late to rescue me, but he kept me from infecting others with my insanity. Tim channeled my terrible urge to make things into a business. Together, we set up this Etsy shop, which allows me to maintain an illusion of respectability. Now I am free to float away on creative flights of fancy while Tim anchors me with his feet firmly on the ground.

Anything you buy from Skirkbucket Studio feeds my addiction to making art. You have my gratitude. If you wish to join my "Crazy Artists" support group, visit my blog at Skirkbucket.com.