Saturday, November 3, 2012


We were supposed to head to Ohio this weekend for friends & football, but neither of us has been feeling that great, so we bailed and decided to do one of our most favorite things of all time, ever: Stay home. (Come on, it's not like we never get out. We just really relish those no-pressure, go-nowhere times, too. Introverts times a thousand.)

After spending several hours reading, surfing, and sipping coffee, I decided I'd spend the rest of the day tackling this situation:

Yep, that's my "studio." Or, as we like to call it in its current state,"Room where we throw whatever we don't want the cats to get, along with all the crap we STILL haven't unpacked." 

My little art dream space, where, as of right now, absolutely no magic happens. (With the exception of this post.*)

But you know how when you're cleaning the bookshelf? And you sort and dust like a pro for approximately two minutes, and that's when you come across your high school yearbook/a favorite book from childhood/that title your grandma passed down to you years ago? So you start reading and flipping and finding sweet tokens tucked between the pages. Three hours later, you're ready for a nap and a snack, and the bookshelf is still a mess.

Welcome to the digital-age equivalent. 

I took the above photo of my mess, hoping it would soon be the hideous "before" picture of an impressive "after" reveal. And now, two hours later, I've gone through all my recent snapshots on Instagram, taken additional photos of bits & pieces collected over time on an inspiration board, eaten four Chocodates, and finished two cups of coffee. Also, pinned a bunch of stuff and changed my pants. PROGRESS.

Ah, anyway. Andy just came in to tell me he's going to the mall where a new Madewell just opened (I've never been in one of their stores), so it looks like I'm going back into the world after all.

Cheers, then!**

*HA. Yeah right.

**Make it a double if you've managed to stick with this post to the ridiculous non-commital, un-edited conclusion.