Getting It Cleaned Out!

My morning mug is my favorite Paris scene. Works for me no matter what. A little street, a little bistro, an enormous croissant. Not time to pull out the snowflakes yet. (After last winter that is a terrifying statement!)(Must buy a new snow blower..the blizzard of 2013 took care of the little snow blower that could..and did for about 20 years!). So I start the day with the best of intentions. We all  know where those intentions usually get us. Well, I know where they get me: avoidance, avoidance, avoidance!

Local SB store is having a "tag sale". Due to being educamated by the staff there, I have found out that I can sell my krap gently used paper crafting supplies BUT I get a store credit and not the show me the money thing. I get to show THEM the money when I return to the store with my earnings and buy even more krap, newer, recently on the market stuff! After thinking about it-it works for me. Until I went down to the basement lower level and started to haul my massive pile of go aways out! With some herniated disks working against me I have had great fun looking at all the things I bought at the beginning of this journey to create and make believe I am an artiste. What the beginner doesn't know is a lot. A lot means buying stuff you will never use and really don't like and you stand there screaming -why did I buy this shit- and feel the true meaning of the word ADDICTION.  So my take to the tag sale pile is a mountain and is using up all my space so I can't do a thing but price today. HA! Do I want it to sell? Yes! Do I want to give it away? No! So is there a happy place where I can feel mentally healthy about this? Hell No! But I have to be ruthless. Ruthless! So I will pull my little stickers out and write a low number on them and hope that it all goes. Why? So I can make room, of course, for everything that has arrived this week! Like the squirrels and other animals (Note: I live on shaky ground with nature. Trees and grass? Butterflies and humming birds? That I can do. Moose, deer, snakes, bears, coyote, strange looking alien bugs from a black hole somewhere and mice all fall into the I hate nature category. Just being honest. After hearing a friend say that snakes were LIVING in their daughter's car which is parked in their driveway I am quickly falling into the give me your trees, your grasses but take your freaking critters and go far, far away.....) who get ready for winter by hoarding, I am doing the same. Distress acrylic paints, Distress embossing powders, Claudine Helmouth paints, stamps, stamps, stamps from Stampin' Up, Memory Box, Hero Arts, and my new favorite Gina K Stamp TV Kit! There were inks and the odd small tool and embossing folders. Spellbinders for cutting (will someone PLEASE help me set up my Cameo? Please??) It was a magnificent week of deliveries with me checking hour upon hour for the UPS officer who piles my boxes at the garage door directly behind the bay where my car blasts out whenever I go out to forage for food and friends. For this reason alone I have developed OCDelivery. I can never catch this guy to ask him to please put my packages on the front steps. Do I have to lure him with sweets like I lure my dogs with doggie dots? A trail left from the driveway up the little walkway to the front door where NORMAL delivery officers leave their goodies? If I put a sign out there he will probably deliver my stuff to the guy next door who is cranky and crabby and never says hello but just stares at you as in -why did you move in next door to me-I liked the empty house because then I didn't have to see PEOPLE- (yup, he's nuts). So instead, I run out with my bare feet and PJ's if I think I hear a truck approaching. Like a kid at Christmas you think? Nothing so innocent. It's a craving that has a heartbeat of it's own. Bam, Bam, Bam.  Must to get the box. Must to get the stuff in the box. It's a sickness and no insurance company will cover it. 

I have the little stickers to price my sale krap stuff. I WILL not put anything back. I will not! I will tie one hand behind my back and write with my feet if I have to. It's not going to happen. I need this. I need it bad! I need it so my husband does not choke me when he sees one more little envelope (OK it is bigger than little. OK, I admit it so zip it!) or box arrive. And he will torture me while I try to sleep whispering things like -the asylum is going to haul you away today so pack your bags-.  Another reason I am an insomniac. Last night he asked me if he could help me price my stash and there was this gleam in his eye that looked a little bit like Jack Nicholson's character in The Shining. (HEERRREEE'S JOHNNY!) I have it all under control I say. Total lie. Horrific and complete falsehood. I am not allowing that. No way. Do I touch his RECORDS From 1966? Do I get a look on my face like Kathy Bates in Misery when I herniate another disk picking up the boxes of records that are hidden in the storage side of the basement? And YES, he wants a record player for Christmas. We, who have entered the ipod era (kicking, screaming and trying to remember our itunes password) now will purchase a turntable so that we can listen to that scratchy, swirling dark disk of decades our recent past. And he listens to jazz which is a noble musical art form but makes me twitch and blink too much after a riff or two on a wind instrument that takes his breath away but renders me writhing with pain. And the hours of each piece. We could spend the entire winter waiting for one of those records to get to the last note. Then, instead of just using my finger to slide to the next song I have to heave my herniated disks to the record player and smash change the big, giant, could kill an entire village of moles  RECORD. Oh, the things I have to put up with for my own weakness! It's a lifestyle. It's not a choice.

Somewhere under the house, that's where you'll find me-today. Not like The Wizard of Oz under the house when it flies through the air and lands on the bad witch, but in the lower level cave room the dear one built for me to be locked away escape to and imagine I am artistic and creative and logical. These are all delusions, but some things are allowed in your own home. Just look away! Look.Away. By evening I will have it all packed in boxes, labeled, priced and ready to go to the next sucker crafter who will laugh all the way to their car because I under priced every freaking thing. May they enjoy pricing it next October for the 2014 tag sale..hehehe.

In other news, I have finished a book this week and started another one. See? I CAN read. Just like Maria in My Big Fat Greek Wedding "SEE? I KNOW!" (re Bundt cake) (you had to be there.) This Kindle thing is growing on me. I have 6 books on it and not one spot on my night stand, bookshelves or floor are taken up by them. I watched very little TV but caught Hostages, Boardwalk Empire, Revenge, The Paradise and I snuck in super trashy Real Housewives of New Jersey (I will not snark as I do not want to find a horse's head in my bed tonight) (shut up). Love me some trash TV at the end of the long day. Thus the Bravo TV diversion but only in the dark and with headphones on so nobody knows..NO.BODY. Also caught up with Survivor. ( I think I will make my own buff that says Woman Warrior on it. The show inspired me to try to move again.)  I went to a meeting and played nice and made pals and did not guffaw when the dog walked into the meeting and peed on the floor and then simply turned around and walked out. I was very polite. I think they will invite me back. I had people over for dinner and laughed and talked and cooked (filled my quota for 2013). It was a productive week. See? I know! I have a life. Herniated, heaving and quaking at nature life on the shoreline where the boats are nifty and the basements by the water get flooded. A real, honest to fertilizer life. 

Wine glass tonight. Fingers covered with ink and stickers, but I'll manage to lift it anyway. 

There's No Place Like Home

I'm back!  I have been in so many places since my last blog posting that it would be cruel to drag you through the map. Let's just say I bought a house, sold a house and landed back in Connecticut, my home state. We live on the Shoreline now, only a 5 minute ride from the beach and Long Island Sound. After being land locked in Maryland for 9 years I finally feel as if I can sail away on any given day if I feel like it.  I don't own a boat but if I feel like it I could. I don't feel like it. I just enjoy having options. And so, I need to get to it here. It has been far too long.

The new house has a special something wonderful. There is a room in the basement lower level just for paper crafting! My wonderful, thoughtful, charming, full of dignity husband built it for me. Although I don't have matchy matchy pieces for it, I have gathered tables and shelving and drawers from all over the place to hold my junk supplies. This includes a large, very tall bookcase that belonged to my father-in-law, cubes and drawers from Oriental Trading, storage pieces from Ikea, work tables from Pottery Barn and Costco, a much sat in desk chair that now only holds things as I stand when I work these days, book cases from various places that sat in several rooms in our prior homes and now hold all manner of essentials and non-essentials for creating a mess masterpiece of my choosing. The only downside is that it doesn't have any windows so I put in a small TV and hung a painting that has a frame that looks like a window with a beach scene behind it. When I find it there will be more. Said wonderful husband also had a half bath put in (bless him) and an amazing hand built double closet full of shelves sturdy enough to hold anything I could dream of jamming into it! This is big folks. Huge. Monumental.  It may not be a studio but it is my space and I have claimed it.  I even put my treadmill in there to remind me that woman does not live by sitting on her arse or standing in one place for a very long time. Guilt works no matter who tells you it doesn't.

I discovered a rubber stamping store and scrapbook shop, conveniently standing next to each other about 20 minutes away.  Far enough so that I don't spend hundreds of dollars per week but close enough to take classes and buy the absolute must haves after those classes. Still not as dangerous as the internet for buying more supplies but when the impossible to squelch urge to purchase becomes anxiety, I can still make the trip and satisfy the craving.  I also joined Stampin' Up last year as a hobby demo.  I knew that with the introduction of their new ink pads I would be buying enough to keep my status as a demonstrator even though the only thing I demonstrated was emptying boxes that arrived and putting all the supplies in their place! I am done now, after much monetary damage, but a woman needs what a woman needs and it's better than liquor and diamonds-for the budget that is.

No mug this morning. I gave away many of them before leaving the Mid-Atlantic but still have more than my kitchen cabinets can hold. Instead I have a lovely light blue tinted glass with fruits and vines, bubbles and baubles embossed on it filled with water to drink and not just any water. My beloved Fiji water (a splurge) which I buy by the case from Trader Joe's. Sweet and full of body. That's how I like my clear, clean water!  And yes, there are drops of ink here and there during the day that end up on the outside of the glass. Careful not to drink any of that. Not recommended for that kind of consumption!

So what have I created lately? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. A kitchen re-model, some baths redone and others brought into this decade. There are still curtains (the young and restless here would call them window treatments. I prefer curtains. Worked when I was a little girl and works for me now) to purchase, purchased curtains to hang and still some boxes to unpack; each one like a Christmas gift filled with surprises. Some of those surprises elicit remarks that are the real me. "Why the hell did I buy that? Who the hell thought that was great? What the hell is it?" .  There are piles in the storage areas that hold chandeliers and lights that we took down as soon as we moved in, cans of paint that we used to cover the green, the brown, the green, the brown and the green and the brown that filled this place when we unlocked the front door and some very strange golden sconces that look as if they should be hanging in a facility for wedding receptions created by wedding ripoff planners.  Me no like. There are still paintings and photos to be hung and one large bathroom to be remodeled but the paintings will go up before the re-model. I need space away from strange people in my house each day playing radios of fiddles and banjos singing about smoking CEE-GARS and riding in trucks with MY WOMAN while I hunkered down in an upstairs family room and watched and re-watched Downton Abbey in order to keep sane.  No offense to the people who crafted a great kitchen but their taste in music just didn't match their talents. Still smarting over the painters who burned popcorn in my brand new, unused by any of us, micro wave oven and stunk up the place for 3 days.  Why does burned pop corn stink-forevah?? 1 year later I still tremble when someone pops a bag of Newman's popcorn in said micro-wave, waiting for the blast of stink aroma as it wanders through the house and finds my nostrils even if I have gone into my closet, shut the door and sat in my chair. YES! My closet has a window and is large enough for a chair that matched nothing in this new house of ours. It's amazing!  Built in to keep our minds off the ugly master bath no doubt. But....everyone has different taste and one person's ugly is another person's masterpiece. (This can't be possible in the case of said bath but I am feeling generous this morning. Must look at the bright side. There is a bath. Just don't turn on the lights and get in and out as fast as you can.)
Of course not creating did not stop me from massive collecting of new Stampin' Up products. I needed them!!! Yes, you know, if you have this same addiction, that I truly, really, brutally did!  And recently, after watching the Tim Holtz Creative Chemistry classes on-line, I have ordered Distress products and paints and tags and tools and I have no idea what the hell will arrive in the boxes too! Budget for paper craft is officially cut off for 2013 but we only have 3 more months in this year so I know I can hold out at least for that much time. If you have not gone to Jennifer Mcguire's blog to find the amazing organizers she is sharing and graciously giving us a 13% discount she encouraged the manufacturer to give her followers, make sure that you do! That is the last thing I purchased with my addiction dollars. They make things to hold just about any type of often used item that you usually stick in drawers or baskets or have thrown around your space. In my case after packing and unpacking I am now the proud owner of a very hurt and very painful lower back. My purchase was a necessity. I am sticking to that no matter what anyone else says.

With Christmas not too far away I know that it's time to disappear into the downstairs space, crank up the music and start some gifts and Christmas cards. I will slap on a pain patch and remember to bend at the creaky knees and not use my back when foraging for products. If only I had wall cabinets (Tempting, very tempting.) so  I was always standing on my trusty 2 step stool to find my good stuff.  I admire the ladies who have the built- ins but hey, I have a room of my own now! I'm not greedy, just jealous envious. It has been far too long since I have made a massive mess and covered my hands with ink and stuck my home made cards to the scrap paper and ruined a finished product with an ink smear that could not be covered with a phrase banner no matter how large I made it. I cringe when I think of looking at the unfinished scrapbooks that hold old techniques that I barely knew how to do but I'll just change gears right in the middle of it and the family will think I sent them out to be finished by someone who knew what they were doing. It's the things with this calling. New products, new techniques, new tools all the time. That's the hook and the rub.

So short on humor this morning but catching up is hard to do. I will say that it is much more silent 
quiet here. Life is different. Do you remember that 1990's movie about a high powered executive that inherited a baby (how bizarre) and left her Manhattan life and moved to Vermont where she finally made a fortune on organic baby food with apples grown on her property? Uh-huh.  Former owners planted a few apple trees along the driveway  and we picked some and made a crock pot applesauce that is incredible. I have entered a new arena.  Who knew if you plant the tree the apples WILL come! And who knew there would never be enough time or apple recipes to use them all. There is a plum tree by the mailbox.  Not a fan but the former owner (lives across the street and I say NOTHING bad..NOTHING) has been given carte blanche to raid it and use them all up.  Paper crafting budget is smaller now since we need a new snow blower, riding mower and co-pays for back injuries after saving money doing our own snow removal and lawn mowing. We have already lived through a hurricane and a blizzard and the only reason I wasn't ascared was that we put in a whole house generator so that when the power goes out we can still warm up our creaky joints after the snow removal, tree limb clean up and whatever else lands in our vicinity after the sounds of the apocalypse have passed.

Water glass is empty. Time to head out and find food. (Just kidding. Big Y and Stop and Shop supply much of it with Trader Joe's and Costco and apple trees fulfilling all of my foraging needs. Stamp yourself crazy, buy some products from your favorite place and get your fingernails inked up and join me as we go through this crazy world called "CREATIVITY".  It's better than dumpster diving.  Big Brother sucked this year. Watched Big Brother Australia on youtube and the people were much nicer less disgusting and I enjoy their speech pattern (notice I did not say accent. They do not have an accent. No, no, no.), Real Housewives becoming too scripted but I still tune in so I can cringe and snark. Watching series TV on HBO and Showtime for the incredible writers who produce Dexter, Homeland, Boardwalk Empire.  Great stuff. And public TV for my British series desires (they don't have an accent either. No, no, no!). Will Teresa go to jail? Will Juicy Joe send his brother in his place? Will Bates and Anna have a baby? Will Nucky Thompson notice his butler/man of all trades jumped out the window last week? Do you think Dexter should have just sailed into the storm instead of surviving and showing up as a logger? The things to ponder.