Me, At Work

This is my sewing room. Oh, I know, it's glamorous and flashy and all that, but it's work. It's actually much better looking than it was a month ago. I decided that I would get a jump on that "must get organized" resolution and so I went after my work space the week after Christmas.
Before the "big cleanup" I had hand-me-down plastic shelves and a few bins. It just wasn't working. I went through my stash, of both fabric and scrapbooking supplies, and decided what I needed. The cube storage units you see are from Lowe's, as well as the green and cream bins that fit inside. I thought about getting some more of the bins, but I like being able to see my fabric stacks. It's easier to make design decisions when I can see it all on display like that.

It looked worse than this. Really.

By the way, I'm listing that bag in my etsy shop later today. If I can get good photos. But that's another blog day.

I Live in a Swamp

I often tell people that we live in a swamp. If you follow me on Twitter, you know that I regularly comment on the weather in the swamp. I'm not kidding. It's not a metaphor or a comment on current social conditions in the world. I really DO live in a swamp.

We're on high ground, and most of our soil is quite sandy, so our house is pretty safe from flooding. It amazes even me how much I love where I live. The water is usually very quiet, but when the river is running high, you can hear it moving through the trees. Eerie? A little, but in the most delicious kind of way.

Dr. Mommy's Toy Clinic Is Open

Being a stuffed animal is apparently a hazardous lifestyle choice, at least around here. I've had to do surgery on two, yes TWO, stuffed animals already this week. Last night it was a bear who needed stitches near his ear. He's feeling much better today.

This afternoon it was a sweet tiger, one of my son's favorites. His paws needed cosmetic work, but that hole on his leg required immediate attention. Here's his picture, resting at the window.

I have fond memories of my mother doing "surgery" to repair my favorite toys when I was a child. Her sweet attitude, of taking great care to not only do a good job, but to make sure they rested after getting stitches taught me to be gentle. She started with stuffed animals and dolls and, as I grew, she showed me how to have compassion for our animals and most importantly for the people in our lives.

I remember going to visit an elderly lady, who had helped my mother around the house when I was little. Years after she stopped working, we would still visit her occasionally, and my mother always baked her a birthday cake. We would go together to deliver it to her house.

It is my hope that my children will learn those lessons, too. Even though my mother is no longer here to teach them, her spirit lives on when my son says, "My tiger needs to get plenty of rest tonight. His paws are sore from surgery."