My room

Here it is; my very own studio. I love my new workbench; I have lots of drawers, and two separate work stations.

That means no more beads in the keyboard!

It also means that I get up and stretch more often, as I move from beading station to computer and back again. That's always been one of my biggest problems; I get involved in what I am doing, and I forget to get up and move around.

It's so nice to have room to spread out, and someplace quiet to go when I want to work. My family can cook, eat and watch movies without stumbling over me and my beads, and I can work in peace without being stumbled over.

It's a good thing.

Nearly done

Simply put, I've been working like a madwoman. My studio is nearly done; I have a few odds and ends to move yet from the infamous cupboard under the stairs, but the furniture is in place, I have hung some pictures, and made a new cover for the old futon.

I've even put a lovely (and very fragrant) vase of roses and lavender on my workbench. My twelve-foot-long workbench. That's nearly four meters for those of you who speak metric.

I can't believe it's mine!

In the white room

If you were a little girly-girl in the 1960s, I'm sure you remember the White Bedroom Suite. It had everything a girl wanted, and it was white. Pure, pristine, and feminine. The canopy bed was a froth of lace; the dressing table had a mirror over it, and the desk was a confection that would thrill any girl into doing homework.

Of course I wanted it. I don't know if the girl in the frilly pink robe with the beautiful doll was in the ads, or a product of my imagination, but she was my idea of perfection. I knew that if I had a room like that, I would keep it spotlessly clean and I would be happy forever.

It was not to be. Looking back, it was an utterly impractical room for a real little girl, but it entered my consciousness in a way that even Barbie couldn't touch. I don't long for an impossible figure; I want an impossible room.

I've updated that dream; the canopy bed has been jettisoned, and I no longer have any use for a dressing table. But I now own a white work area in my brand-new studio. It has two workstations flanked by three storage sections; I have nine small drawers, two large drawers, and a bookshelf shelf. (Or I will, once I finish putting the drawers together!)

It's white, but it's a practical white; it's all powder coated, so it's easy to wipe up any spills. It certainly cost less than any single component of my dream bedroom; but it's perfect. My workstations are high enough to work either standing up, or perched on a stool; and one workstation is under a north window with a view of the hills.

It's a dream come true.

Easily amused

I've just found the special characters menu on my computer; it's been there quite awhile, but I didn't know it was there. That may have been a good thing, as I'm sure to annoy people by using it for awhile.

So, now I can type things like this: ♥
or this: ☺

or this: ✄

or this: ✐

There are quite a few new toys for me to play with.

{Did I mention that I'm easily amused?}

Just keep swimming

Sometimes, when I keep going, trying to make things right, it just doesn't work. I throw good beads in after bad, and, in the end, everything has to come out anyway. It's worse, of course, when I've suspected all along that it was going to happen that way.

Other times, it works.

Happily, I'm in the second position tonight; the first three rows were iffy, but now, with the beginning of the fourth row, I think it's going to work. I'm glad I didn't pull it all out; I'm glad I kept going.

It doesn't always turn out that way, you know.