Here I am.
Alive. And well.
And not in an abandoned pit somewhere, thrown there by my crazy sister.
Because that's not real life. It's All My Children, 1991.
Truth is, I've been pret-ty busy.
Time flies when you're felting your fingers to the bone for a two-day craft show in just two weeks.
Two weeks. TWO.
Can you feel the urgency? In just two weeks I have to make all the jewelry.
Nope. No. I don't want to talk about it.
But I will show you my studio. Because I think you're gonna like it.
I love it here.
I love it so much I've begun to fill it up so that it doesn't look like this anymore.
This is the clock I hit my head on every. single. time. I come up here. Half the year it's set to the wrong time, the other half the year it's not working at all because the batteries died.
stole borrowed this lamp from my sister, Katie. And then it broke. Now I'm hoping she doesn't read this and remember that she wanted it back when she moved into her own house.
This is the little nook where I read every morning. My favorite spot in the entire apartment. It's also where I store my library book sale finds. Also known as the books I will probably never read but will keep anyway because I only paid 50 cents for crying out loud.
I had high hopes of getting a nice futon for the occasional guest to sleep on, but now those hopes have turned to bigger purchases.
Like a house.
One of two easels. You would think I was a painter, but you'd be wrong. I just dabble.
And then there's some junk. Random things that just can't seem to find a home.
But right now it's reminding me of all the work I have to do so this is where I call it quits to go browse pictures of celebrity pets.