A Room Of My Own
(a before shot of my everything room)

This is my room. My sewing room. My writing room. My guru room. My sanctuary. My spy tower. My hide out. My club room. My retreat. Doesn't look like much right now since it's filled from floor to ceiling with crapola. It's seething with paper and fabric and string and patterns and just about everything a person like me deems necessary to survive. I'm going to redefine my definition of necessary very soon.

My last sewing room was orange and I loved it. I love the energy of orange and I still want to have some orange somewhere but I don't think I want it in my new sewing room because the pink and grey carpet would argue with orange. I want no arguments in my sanctuary. Except for the ones that go on in my own head.

As everyone knows, I'm not a fan of carpet in general. I have to admit that I like this one. Very Victorian. And not plush. Plush is just a big trap for hair and dirt and dust and...

Excuse my Howard Hughes moment. This room could be the perfect place to enjoy my delicate constitution and heart palpitations. I'm going to need a fainting couch though. And a lackey to cool me off with giant palm fronds when I get a little over heated from the exertion of complaining about my very mysterious illnesses.

Well, I've got lots of work to do. I need to get that room set up so I can make a coat. I will at last be able to contribute to the New Vintage Wardrobe flickr group because I'm making a coat from a reprinted Vogue pattern. I'll give you a sneak peak soon. It will probably be a while before I get the room painted because I need the coat for my trip.

Hope you all have a great Wednesday!

Before And After

Before

And After!

Let's do that again from another shot...

Before

And After!

Have I mentioned lately how my blood is moving at the speed of molasses and everything is in excruciating slow motion? Finally the painting is done. And when I say done, I don't mean perfectly done. I mean I'm done. I used to be a very good room painter. However, my painting powers have left me right along with my patience for this long period of suspense my life has been for the past two years. There are drips on the wall, thin patches (but mostly where you can't see them. Although I don't know why I'm making excuses, the point is: there are thin patches) and even a couple of patches where the paint has already peeled a tiny bit because I didn't have the patience to SAND THE WALLS FIRST.

The carpet squares are pretty cool and easy to put in. But there aren't enough of them to cover the whole room. You might think this would be cause to stack them back up and return them to Lisa E. who kindly let me take all her extras. But no. I like to think of it as an "area" rug since it only covers a finite area of the room rather than covering from wall to wall. There is a border of plywood which I think lends a very warehousey feel to it. Especially in combination with the Formica desk top that is now dotted and smeared with primer and orange paint. It says "downtown artist studio" to me. The kind with paint splattered floors and broken windows. (I have a broken switch plate which is practically the same thing.)

I'm really excited to get all my stuff moved back in there. Excited to finish the job. Get in there and create. I will admit that the thought of all the organizing I'm going to have to do is making my cerebral cortex pound a little, but I guess if it doesn't kill me I'll have myself a fresh studio soon. I plan to make curtains and do a little decorating to make it more festive, but that will have to wait until I actually move in and get organized so I can find things.

I want to get on this right now even though it's a gazillion degrees in my house today, but I finally made an appointment for my cat and must now go figure out how to safely transport him to the vet on my scooter. I also have to find him and wrestle him into a cat box. I'll probably get home just in time to play Leogos with an excessively grumpy Max and send Philip off to the hospital to fetch my mom who had some surgery yesterday and should be ready to come home any minute.

So in reality, I'll probably get stuff moved into the studio just about the time they discover they can grow corn on Mars.

Color Theory

White is a sterile field in which my brain is stunned into cold suspension. In white it shivers and tries to remember what it was like when the sun shone in golden sheaves of light. It struggles to make something out of nothing like a drugged magician. White is empty depression in which all impulses to create and percolate thought is suppressed.

White is a noise like an insidious ringing in the ears blocking out the other more joyful noises in life. Sometimes I see the beauty of white like when it blinds you on a Mediterranean hillside reflecting the overbearing Greek sun. But there it is mixed with saturated blue doorways and windows. There it is doing battle with a hotter light.

I need color. I've missed it too. I've never had orange like this. In our first house we painted one of the walls in the kitchen a melon color. I miss being surrounded by colorful walls. I find it soothing and restful while at the very same time energizing and alive. The first coat is completely done and now I'm working on the second coat of paint (it needs it). When I walked in that studio this morning I wasn't walking into a 1970's brown nightmare, I walked into a glowing room with sunlight splashing the bright walls. I can't wait to get the flooring in and move into the room. It's wonderful!



*I realize that not everyone is going to appreciate an orange room as I do. I realize that orange can actually make some people kind of angry. Also, this picture makes the orange look truly bright orange when in reality it's a little softer than it appears here. But it really is orange. Think of orange Julius' in the summertime, that will take your mind off the fact that I just painted my creative lair ORANGE.

How I Don't Love Remodeling Work

and other true facts

The priming is under way at last. Philip kindly volunteered to start it last night. I didn't TSP or sand the paneling so it was kind of slick. He couldn't use the roller for it so he used brush strokes to create a kind of slight texture to make the paint adhere better. I hope to get it completely primed today and then start painting this afternoon or tomorrow. There is a tremendous pressure to get it done. I had to turn down a project for a friend because she would need it much sooner than I will have my studio ready and I can't do a new project with all of my supplies scattered and packed around the garage. That was work I could have gotten paid to do. Money, which I need. Much too stressful.

Some executive decisions have been reached:

1) I am covering the floor with carpet tiles that Lisa E. has left over from her last house. It seems there will be plenty to do the job, they are free, and they come up as easily as they go down so that when I can afford a more permanent solution like wood floors I won't have to undo glue or tacking. It's a reddish orange which I actually quite like, though I don't think it would be to many other people's taste.

2) I am not going to change the hardware on my built in desk right away because I couldn't find anything I like at Lowe's that fits the screw holes that are already there and I'm not willing to fill in holes and make new ones just yet. The hardware is brass which I want to call vomit-metal in my more childish moments. I hate brass. I REALLY HATE BRASS. I'm a chrome girl. Or wrought iron. Or in my trendier moments I sometimes enjoy a brushed nickel finish.

3) I'm not going to fix the particle board sub-flooring where it has dry rot because it isn't soft, the damage is right by the sliding door, and the piece that is affected can be easily replaced by a professional when we are ready to replace the flooring. Every detail that can be shaved off the time it will take to move into that room is vital. Angela (from Cottage Magpie) will be very disappointed in me I know, she's an agent of precision and solid remodeling practices. Which I totally admire.

4) I've come to realize with absolute certainty that I derive no enjoyment what-so-ever from doing remodeling work myself. Even painting rooms I find completely tedious to the point of constantly fantasizing that I can afford to pay professionals to do it. I feel a lot of guilt around this realization. As a Do-It-Yourself advocate, I should relish doing it all myself. While I am proud that I can build a chicken coop from scratch*, use a circular saw, a power drill, and can rip up carpet like a pro...I don't like doing it. Is this a crime? It feels like a crime.


I still have no extra freezer or fridge. It is beginning to sound like a joke. Right now I have my one and only completely stuffed with beets because Bernard's farm had beets at the farmer's market for only .79 cents a pound. I only spent five or six dollars and have a fridge full of beets. Enough for one or two batches of pickles. I've been wanting to do this project for a couple of years now. It calls for sugar and I'm just hoping I'll like it. I think all the pickled beets I've previously enjoyed have been made with sugar. I'm going to go check right now....

Yes they do. Generally speaking I loathe sweet pickled items which is why I'm desperate to find a recipe for canning marinated three bean salad with either no sugar (and no green peppers) or just a token of sugar. I wish I had a mandolin for this project so I could slice my beets using the fancy ruffly cutter. Ah well.

It's exciting to watch the larder fill up. Not that I have a "larder". I should have said pantry. But doesn't larder sound kind of cool? I think that's kind of literal. The place where you keep your lard. Gross. As a non-meat eating individual (no, not fish or chicken either which I consider to be meat as they are the flesh of animals. I eat eggs and milk products, but I don't eat the flesh of any animals.) I think the idea of lard is really pretty awful. However, if I did eat meat it would make total sense to use the lard for cooking too. But when I think about lard I inevitably think about how I could just scoop some right out of my own belly to fry up some chitlins. Ha. Are you fully disgusted now?

*Actually, I really did enjoy building the coop from scratch. The one we have now is much nicer looking and came as a kit, but our first coop I did all by myself and I have to say it was funky. But FUNCTIONAL. Yes, I enjoyed doing that project.

The Walking Pocket

(and more insecure talk from the Dustpan Alley)

I can't tell you about this project because it might need to be secret. I realize how lame it is to not actually know if something you're working on needs to be secret or not. Either it does or it doesn't. The great thing about being so clueless is that it gives me the chance to be mysterious, which is very hard for full disclosure gals like me to achieve.

This pocket has walked away. The main question in your mind, I'm sure, is "why would a pocket walk away?" and while that is certainly a great question, the one I keep asking myself is "how?". It was right there one moment, looking bright with potential, then when there were no more customers to chat with, I turned around to work on this project and the pocket was gone. I searched the entire store. There are only so many places a pocket can hide, and I checked them all.

Now that the store is closing I must turn my mind to figuring out how on earth I will arrange my "studio" in our house. The "studio" is a very small bedroom with dark wood '70's paneling covering every wall surface, a built in desk in dark wood (possibly veneer, suddenly I can't remember), and gross oatmeal colored carpet. I can tell your mind is racing to figure out how you too can have such a wonderfully inspiring studio space.

As you all know, I've gotten used to the spacious area I currently refer to as the studio in the back part of the store. So if any of you were envious, now is your time to feel the glee. Bitter Betty works in a small space and so do many other genius crafters and artisans. A big space is not necessary. But a space with adequate light, an inspiring atmosphere, and good organization are very important. I didn't do any decorating the last time I had my base of operations in that little back bedroom.

I'm going to get all Martha on my ass.

That could sound really dirty if you weren't a non-lesbian prude like I am.

I will take lots of before pictures, during pictures, and just when I get as insufferable as a new parent with four rolls of film of the baby's first day of life, I will then bombard anyone who's left standing with a million after pictures.

I was thinking of doing the room in turquoise and red which are my store colors. However, it occurs to me that if Alicia Paulson were ever to see my studio, she would assume that I worship her and copied her. She's all over the turquoise and red combo. But if I do a robin's egg blue with pale serene green, I could never invite Martha Stewart over to my house because she would cease to respect me for stealing her signature color story and then she wouldn't get to discover what an excellent cook I am. (I would need to hide photographic evidence of the garden potage soup which turned out a khaki color, not the prettiest version of itself). So then I was thinking about doing a kind of spring green, orange, and pink color story. But I'll be damned if it doesn't make me think of Heather Baily.

So I'm going to go over to her studio right now to see what colors she's got going on there. Care to join me? Oh crap. I should not have done that. I really shouldn't have. What I really need is to see another designer who looks like a movie star, has patents pending, and is photographed in magazines and knows famous people.

My grandiose bubble is popped for the day.

How old are Heather and Alicia anyway? Is it too late for me to get thin, fresh*, and become a design genius? (I did have a great idea last night that I'm not going to share here because it was so exciting I want to savor it and feel as though I have patent pending too. Though it isn't actually something I could patent. But obviously I'm already a design genius, it's just that no one influential knows it yet.)

You know what I have going for me that none of those wonderful ladies has going for them? I'm funny. Totally funny. Except for when I'm talking about child suicide, cutting, depression, anxiety, death, necessary medication, being fat, self loathing, or my childish insecurities. Other than that, I'm hilarious.

Ah, hopefully I will be going to a craft fair today in Portland. I'm kind of excited about it. I might get to go with my friend Lisa E. Now that I don't have the store I might be able to do a couple of craft fairs with Lisa in addition to all the canning and farm fun we generally have. How cool would that be? (The answer is: totally cool!) Lisa doesn't know this, but I feel super lucky to be such good friends with her (actually, she may already know that). She's an exceptional knitter, a total cool babe, and yes-she has some of the best teeth I have ever seen. I will certainly report on the fair later if I end up getting to go.

I hope you all have a wonderful Sunday!


On a happy note, my guys came in to the shop yesterday and apologized for their crazed meanness yesterday morning. I also apologized for having carelessly removed their memory card (which was found in the lawn later, in tact) and promised to learn how to reset the screen so we don't run into this problem again. Philip also bought one of the remote controls that Capello mentioned and so all is smoothed over. Except for the part where I start looking for a child psychologist. I ordered a book that Violet Crumble recommended that may help too.




*Did you see Heather's dewy skin? Shit, you almost can't look at people that pretty.