Scrap fabric, Mod Podge, and me bent over a pile of newspaper on my bedroom floor. The Great MD showed me her sad little toe-holed flats and it wasn't until last night when the idea hit me like a ton of bricks. Thank goodness she was sensible enough to give me completely free reign when I attacked her with one of those rash, project-hungry explosions.
Does this make me a cobbler? Or just a right-brained freak? Either way, I'm satisfied. As is MD.