Where the Magic Happens

I have seen footage of people from far off lands who make pottery, weave baskets, and create jewelry all while sitting down indian-style on the ground. And they make really beautiful things. Which makes me feel better about my situation- the fact that I have no actual work table to work on. I do pretty much everything from the floor. The few things that need a table-like surface to function like my bench pin, bench vise, and pickel pot are situated on the small, short stand that houses my stereo system. I do all of my sawing, riveting, and soldering while my backside or knees are resting on the carpet. There is a small pullout couch for guests that I sit on from time to time, but with no room for a table in my craft room, I am pretty one with the ground most of the time.

This unconventional situation isn't new to me, really. In middle and highschool, I never liked to sit at a desk to do my homework. I usually did it on my carpeted floor where I could spread everything out and sit comfortably. Or my other favorite homework spot was my bed. But that could lead to some really trouble, the second I decided to rest my head on my pillow while reading a long chapter. Zzzzzzzzz, a few minutes later. I had a beautiful desk with a hutch that my parents bought for me that made a wonderful organizer for my stuff, but rarely saw me beyond the occasional visit to retrieve or put back an item.

So even if a table did fit in my craft room, I probably wouldn't use it in the proper way. But I am getting older, and am getting a little bit tired of the soreness that occurs in my legs as I sit on the ground for long periods of time. And there isn't much back support either. OK, there is none. So maybe some day I will reform and find a way to fit a real craft table into my life. Until then, I shall remain a comfortable crafting carpet dweller. Right now it works for me.

One of my favorite things....

I thought I would make my very first post about one of my favorite things. It is a sentimental treasure that can never be replaced. If there was a house fire, it would be grabbed by my last free finger as I struggled with a pile of photo albums, precious jewelry, and important paperwork. It's my now deceased Grandma's old painted bottle of Mrs. Butterworth's syrup. My Grandma had a knack for loving stuff. But not just any old stuff- she liked things that were once something else and had been transformed into something new, exciting, and totally displayable. She loved her strawberry Christmas ornaments that were actually painted walnut shells with seedbeads glued to them and her hanging wall art that was a board of nails whose heads had been painted to make a floral scene. She loved her seashells turned cute little mice magnets. When I moved into my first house, there she was with a cheese platter that was an old wine bottle that had been melted flat.

She also liked things that had an interesting design concept- the trivet carved out of a continuous piece of spiraled wood that also could stand up like a basket with the turn of a screwed in handle. And she couldn't get enough of 3-D puzzles and games. Like the old fashioned handcuffs that had a ring in the middle that seemed impossible to dislodge, but was completely possible when done right. In general she was a very curious, inquisitive, wonder-filled person who taught me a lot about how to view life. She loved to travel, wanted to see every little part of an exhibit, every little scenic detour, and get the most out of everything. She had an eye for special, out of the ordinary things that other people might think of as cheesy or frivolous. When she passed away, my grandpa wanted us to each take something that we treasured of my Grandma's, and I took the Mrs. Butterworth's bottle, remembering all those years it looked down over us from the kitchen hutch as we ate our meals. Now it looks out over my craft room, a little statue of inspiration and a reminder of how treasured little crafty things can be.