But still, I love stuff. I mean, I really love stuff. It's not right. If I lived alone, I would probably past the point of that show Hoarders. I don't love new stuff, or crappy stuff. I love cool old stuff that smells like someone else's basement, or jars of washers and bolts, or bags of buttons. I love old books, dolls, belts, and ribbon. Oh, I do love ribbon.
As an olive branch, Shaun said the organizer did not have to tackle the basement (an olive branch to me or to her, I'm not sure yet). So everything down there is my fault, and my problem, and my haven. Wanna have a look?
The Black Apple (We have at least two prints by Emily on every floor of our house). And on top is a lovely doll using a sewing machine, from Wee Wonderfuls.
these folks) some time ago.
Wee Wonderfuls. It's a knitting robot! The photo in the upper right is me at Glensheen, from this trip.
This shot showcases some of my favorite ribbons, ones that make my teeth hurt with love. Lavender velvet? Rainbow grosgrain? Yellow and red tulips? That crazy green, orange, and yellow on black? Mercy, I love them all.
These are bits of my beloved sewing room. And I've only shown you the organized parts: note you haven't seen the floor. Mostly that's because the floor is buried under 2-3 feet of fabric and other sundry items: it just doesn't make for the most compelling photos. Every few months I get a hankerin' to hunker down there, with my supplies and lamps and ribbons. Come on down and visit me, sometime. I promise most everything will still be there, so long as I can keep the organizer away.