Fixing the door
In every home, there’s one or two unruly spots, places that seem to hold a charge. These spots appear to argue with us, to remind us of some corner of our own hearts with which we have not made friends. These spots are difficult to organize, hard to keep neat, or a nightmare to decorate.
For me, one of these trouble spots is my studio. I struggle with organizing it, I struggle with what to do with it, how to arrange it, what to keep in it and what not to keep in it. The battle isn’t truly about my studio, of course; it’s about my own crafting life, my life as a person who needs a studio. The fact that I really do need a studio isn’t up for discussion; anyone who has walked into any apartment or house of mine for the last three decades is instantly confronted by evidence everywhere of the passions of my hands and heart.
The problem seems to be what sort of studio I need. Do I need a place to bead, to sew, to weave? To actually create? Or do I need a storage room for all my tools and supplies? Do I need a solitary room, where I can close the door and submerge myself in creating, or do I need to provide workable spaces throughout my home, because my crafting is inseparable from the rest of my life?
All of these thought ran through my head as I went about fixing the 120-year-old studio door hardware. (Thank goodness for the internet. It’s really true that you can find ANYTHING you need to know, if you just know how to search for it. In this case: keywords “repair antique doorknob” did the trick.)
The workings aren’t truly repaired; I think they are worn out and need replacing. But they are working, and workable, for now.
Today’s Random Holiday Cheer:
Christmas Treats for Tigers
My friend Jen knows I like weird photos of animals, so she suggested I google “tigers under water.” Dude, GREAT pictures like this one:
In keeping with the season, however, I also found this unlikely tidbit: Zookeepers in Wales apparently give donated Christmas trees to their tigers for tasty tiger snacks.
Now I know why my cats are always chewing our holiday tree: They know in their hearts they ARE really tigers.