Stu-stu-studio.

As part of our life restructuring, we've hired a professional organizer. She was fantastic, non-judgemental but firm, and totally creative. We got rid of approximately 24 garbage bags of stuff for donating, another 9 or so bags of trash, and that was only on the main floor.  We hope to have her back again in a few months to help us get through the upstairs (i.e. my clothing), if I can't do it on my own. It was worth every penny we paid her.

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?

 I keep my needles in the lampshade. And my brass cats, too. Obviously.

The light in this room is fluorescent, so my 6-armed lamp helps with lighting (as does the needle-lampshaded lamp). The laundry line above has a postcard of the Ingalls family, photos of me and Jess and me and V, paintings by V, and the Queen of Spades. The two other prints, nearest the window, I won years ago from 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.

 This is the southwest corner, with photos I've taken, an Easter card from our friend Kathy, my embossing tool, some purse handles, and a fantastic wicker-ish purse I bought while garage saling with my sister a couple of years ago. It was $3, and I had to promise I'd hang it up right away before she let me bring it home.

 A corner of my machine, a Shark. I love baby food jars, especially wee ones. These seem to have sequins and buttons in them. I love little ceramic containers and vintage tins, and there appears to be a wee crow bar in this photo, too. Don't ask.The rubber stamp says "Asylum for the Chronic Insane," and I bought it from Rubber Baby Buggy Bumpers (now owned by these folks) some time ago.

 The needle/cat lamp, further back. The orange and blue shelf is one my daddy made with leftovers from some great bookshelves he made us, and the shelf is full of things I like: stencils, an octopus V and I made when she was 3, photos, a postcard of Marilyn Monroe, a birthday card from my brother-in-law Brad, a jar full of beads, some buttons...the nails hold supplies (E6000, dollmaking needles, teddy bear eyes, pins, a flamingo streamer thing...). The print in the cream frame is another from the Black Apple, and the robot print in the lower left corner was a thank you card from an order I made to Wee Wonderfuls. It's a knitting robot! The photo in the upper right is me at Glensheen, from this trip.

 My pièce de résistance: I  took one of those trouser hangers, one that's supposed to allow you to hang 4 or 5 pairs of pants, and loaded up my ribbon collection. It hangs from a hook in the ceiling, just to the left of my sewing machine, so I can always see what's available, get inspired, and easily cut off what I need. The last bits or pieces of ribbon and trim that I buy off a spool get hung up on the final rungs, alongside a birthday card from my friend Crystal, ca. 2008 or so.

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.