Somebody call a doctor. I might need some help.

I spent a good half of last Tuesday packing for our weekend trip to McCall, Idaho. I finished on Wednesday and started going through my list one last time. Clothing, check. Diapers, check. Food, check. Projects, check.

Wait.

Projects? Plural?

Yep. I packed a cloth WINCO bag with three different projects: socks for Ben, a wool diaper cover for Shira, and a shirt for me.

I told myself I might feel like working on socks more than a diaper. Or maybe I would need something easier, like the crochet top, for during TV time. I could get bored with one project during the drive and then have nothing to do. One must always be prepared. I was a girl scout, after all.

It wasn't until I watched Shira ask a complete stranger at Fogg Lifter Cafe to read a story to him that I questioned my creative motives (and the weird spelling of fogg). Why do I have so many projects going at one time? I brought three with me to Idaho, and I have a few more at home.

Later that afternoon, while Shira took his nap, I finished the first part of my wool diaper cover prototype. Then I picked up the cotton tank top I'm crocheting and went to work. Five minutes later I decided I wanted to know what was going to happen next in the book I'm reading (The Fiery Cross, in case you're wondering). I put my project away, opened the book, and Shira woke up.

Sigh.

I'll get back to you later, Claire.

Or not.

There is a lot to do, and not do, in McCall. I probably only worked on my projects a total of four hours during the whole four day trip. And that includes car travel. I guess I really like playing in the sand by the lake.

I'm still wondering why I have so many projects started. Do I lose interest? Gain more interest in something else? Am I making too many commitments to make things for friends and family? Am I super creative, but only have limited time and resources to actually create? Is my lifestyle morphing into something like an urban homesteader's, where I have to make most of what I put in my home?

Maybe.

I do love the thrill of finishing something. A story. A pair of socks. Pillow cases, cloth diapers, roasted chicken and veggies, an entire package of oreos and potato chips (err...lets try to keep that last one on the dl).

Is starting a project thrilling?

Is the whole creative process thrilling?

Am I addicted to creativity?