These people are dedicated and they're organized. I think it's just going to get worse.

That tone is crucial, because the craftster scene is one to watch. Like earlier eras' garage-band and punk and 'zine scenes, this is one of those rare, actually of-the-people crusades that start from the bottom up: a few plebeian pals horsing around in a basement and somehow, somehow, whatever they come up with catches on. That this can still happen in a processed world should give us hope. In 2003, Boston-area computer programmer Leah Kramer started Craftster.org based on a lifelong hobby that she hadn't realized many others shared until she started posting project ideas and pictures online. Almost entirely by word of mouth, the site quickly expanded to more than 100,000 members. Thousands more join every month. Other sites pepper the Internet, long-tailing the crafting subculture into subsubcultures: the neo-knitters, the book-cover refigurers, the sewing-machinists. And yes, this anti-industry intifada is now itself an industry, with its own superstores, TV shows, ad-laden Web sites, celebrities and books, because after all this is America. Still craftsterism is, at heart, all heart. It has to be. Originality is non-negotiable when anything is made by hand. In a consumer culture where even the so-called customized is mass-produced -- think ring tones, think M&Ms printed with your favorite photograph -- this is the revolutionary part. Human one-of-a-kindness.

a tightly knit community

Of course, she's kind of my latest hero, so that could be why I have such faith in her. (As I told my boyfriend, "She's the Joss of crochet!")

I fear what the doll people will do with Dollhouse.

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