Behold the Vagina Costume. We shall find a way to honor her presence in the Craft Room.
To move, or not to move? That is the question.
When I made the move to Atlanta last August, I was at the mercy of several factors:
- I had no clue what part of town I wanted to move to
- There were so many neighborhoods, and I had about 24 hours total to see Atlanta, shop for an apartment, and get one
- The Bank of Dad funded my move. That means Bank of Dad had say in where I was moving. Dad wanted me to be somewhere safe---let's juggle that with a distant relative telling Dad moving anywhere in the Perimeter was DANGEROUS.....wow. How wrong this relative was. (Subconscious racism, maybe??)
Instead, I found a nice gated community on the boarder of Kennesaw and Marietta. I have a lake, a really nice pool, I know most of my neighbors, and it is relatively quiet. I have a HUGE ASS garden tub, a HUGE ASS porch, TONS of storage space. My apartment has crown molding. French doors. It is the shit. It also has this 1/2 bedroom aka office aka potential craft heaven.
I am up to renew my lease in August, and they are probably going to give me a deal. Do I want to stay and be in this amazing apartment, but away from everything? I am young! I am vivacious! Or do I want to move closer in town, possibly for the same rent or slightly more, less room, but convenience to...life...
Do I spruce up the craft room or not? If I embark on this project, that means I am not moving. I am parkin' it and making happy-house with Pepita in Marietta. If I do not spruce it up, that means we are on to dingier, cooler pastures. What a dilema. Discuss amongst yourselves.
In the meantime, it is SUMMER and I am SO HAPPY to have a personal life for a few months. Shit has got to get organized. So, to make peeps happy, I will end this lovely blog post with a little photojournal of what I WILL or WILL NOT CONQUER WITH THE CRAFT ROOM:
The Craft Room, in all of its disorganized glory. There is so much craftiness here not being seen because of the disorganization and lack of functionality.
Random Mother Fuckin' Tennis Balls.
Everyone needs some random mother fuckin' tennis balls. Here are mine. It makes so much logical sense that they are in the craft room in this random basket.
Stash, Bitches. There is actually some great crap I am not highlighting in this picture, including some Louisa Harding I picked up in Bethany Beach a couple summers ago. But for the most part, I need to de-cheese the stash. Let some crap go, ya know what I'm sayin'?
Everyone needs some random mother fuckin' tennis balls. Here are mine. It makes so much logical sense that they are in the craft room in this random basket.
Stash, Bitches. There is actually some great crap I am not highlighting in this picture, including some Louisa Harding I picked up in Bethany Beach a couple summers ago. But for the most part, I need to de-cheese the stash. Let some crap go, ya know what I'm sayin'?
