Scrapbooking addiction

I find scrapbooking cathartic. It’s my form of therapy. It makes me happy just to sit for hours, cutting and pasting paper to photos, journalling on little strips of paper, inking and stamping. Not to mention the very worthwhile (to me) product of memories ensconced in prettiness. An outlet for my

itchy-fingered side perhaps, but more of just a way to be quiet and alone. For all my extroversion, I really enjoy being alone. This is my most recent creation. An 20-page self-zuttered album of the significant moments of 2011-2012 so far. 🙂 

 Lately, most of my gifts to friends have been 9×9 (inch) shadow boxes. After albums of 12×12, or 6×4, I realised that I enjoy 8×8 or 9×9 albums the most. Just the right size to frame a 4R photo without overwhelming embellishments. Here’s one that I made for the very very sweet Thomas family, friends who hosted us when we were in London in 2010. There’s a space for them to insert a family photo too.
Glad that they liked it!


 I must admit that it’s an expensive hobby, and like so many others, I’ve lost track of how much I’ve spent on it (though a look into my thickers basket (hamper sized) provides a rough estimation on the thicker expense alone (gulp gulp gulp). I accept scraps/cast offs from all sources, but still manage to succumb to buying! How does one resist a 50% sale I ask you?? As with all other temptations hobbies, the trick is not to ironically spend more time on chronically memories of the kids to the extent of neglecting them! I know sometimes I shoo K away to colour on her own just so that I can concentrate on scrapping, with the excuse that sometimes it’s just nice to work in parallel instead of being a hovering helicopter mum! haha.

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