Hashtag Extreme Nesting

Today I built shelves.  A few days ago I was ripping out carpeting.  It seems that my pregnancy nesting process as I enter the third trimester entails a whole lot more power tools, hammers and trips to Lowes than it does adorably tiny baby clothes.  I mean, I've got a pile or three of teensy onesies, and a handful of a few large bags full of slightly larger adorable clothing for this child that just need to be re-folded and sorted by size.  Its not like I'm immune to the charm of the tiny clothing.

But man, the siren call of shelving!  As a child I always thought the "a place for everything and everything in its place" motto was laughable.  Increasingly, I like the idea.  Especially as I embrace the lifestyle changes that I hope and expect this child to bring with it: fewer long days in town, fewer days in town at all, more time on the homestead, more homebaked bread; I find myself less and less tolerant of the general malaise of spreading stuff that two adults –packrats at that!- living in a too-large house are prone to create.

It’s all a metaphor, really.  Symbolic.  The renovation and interior design work that preoccupies my mind of late is a way of making physical the spiritual and emotional and energetic process of this pregnancy.  Of making space for baby.  Of dreaming forth the mom I want to be, the woman I want to be.  As I embrace this shift, I realize more and more just how much I've told certain dreams to wait, just how many aspects of myself I've tucked away for later.  And their time is now. The baby's time is now.  And baby deserves a space to live in that will nurture baby's growth, that will nurture baby's parents so that, as parents, we can do our best by baby.

And so my nesting process entails skill saws and screws as well as shuttles and yarn.  It means undertaking renovations both major and minor to create functioning systems in this home of ours. 

At the flip of a switch

These cookies came out of my oven the other night.  An unremarkable feat, perhaps, except that I have a whole new appreciation of the systems in place to allow this minor miracle to happen. 

What is even more stealthily phenomenal in the above photo is that it is late evening and even our Alaskan summer sunlight is fading late in the evenings these days.  Yet you can see these treasures of butter and sugar and nuts and chocolate... because they are illuminated by an overhead electric light.

After 5 months, give or take 3 days, I once again have electricity in my house!  I walk in the door after a long evening of teaching and I can make there be light – instantly! – over the stove to reheat dinner, or over the couch to curl up with a book, or in the living room, or, or....  And perhaps best of all for this pregnant lady, I can cook things like pie, cookies, baked potatoes to eat with sour cream, biscuits, or fresh bread.  This baby is a fan off all things baked and carbo-licious as well as any kind of fresh fruit.  And while the stove itself is propane, the oven's regulator is run by the magic of electrons flowing through wires.

At any rate, I thought that the picture of the cookies was a far more interesting and attractive way to start the post than this picture:

Back in February the generator died, the battery bank failed, and the inverter broke; all in the space of a few weeks.  I was upset and frustrated by turns for a week or so, and then our pregnancy test turned up positive, and for a few weeks I saw everything through rose-colored glasses and couldn't have cared less that there was no power coming into the house.  For the past few months however, my dearest Darlin'Man has gotten to weather increasingly hormone-fueled frustration at the lack of first-world amenities at our house whilst he navigates the steep learning curve of fixing diesel generators and off-grid electrical systems.  We're pretty committed DIY folks out here.  I'm so proud of him for all he's figured out and fixed.  But mostly? I'm happy to have electricity again.  Vacuuming! Baking! Music-listening! Lights-using! Dehydrator processing of herbs!

Next up?  Operation Fix-The-Water.  Is it the well?  Is it the pump?  Is it the water line?  Stay tuned for results of this fascinating detective operation!  Baby is going to have a working washing machine if I have to magic it out of thin air! 

Isn't this a beautiful sight??  Illumination from above!

Renew-vation

"Before" 

This seems like an auspicious post to kick off the new blog/new website with.  I'm renovating the studio.  Its a big project.  It alternates between seeming entirely feasible and entirely overwhelming.  I want to have it done before baby arrives.

I've long wanted and wished to spend significant amounts of time in my studio.  Long railed against circumstance that conspires to keep me away from the loom and the sewing machine - self created circumstance for the most part, I realize!  Long wanted to play with cloth and fiber, making things to share with the world.  To play seriously, rather than dabble.

And half the battle is to create a space that I want to be in.  A space that is welcoming.  A space that is warm (Woodstove installed! Major hurdle overcome!  Check!). A space that is pleasing to the eye.  A space that is functional.  Organized.  Well-lit.  And ever since we moved in, the studio has only rarely felt this way.  So I'm committed to making it so. 

I envision a space where I can work, can make, can perhaps sell the creations of my hands.  A space for kids to grow up, making messes with paint and yarn and wood.  A space for kindred to gather - over a crafting table and a cup of coffee.

Some more before photos; as you can see, I was a fan of the hipstamatic app :)  I pretty intentionally did not take a panorama 'before' picture before I'd hauled everything out of the studio.  It had become a giant dumping ground for craft supplies, good intentions, theatre costume storage and more.  And if blogging allows you to curate a flattering persona - which it undoubtedly does - then I may as well choose to not record the worst publicly...

I'm currently pulling up the carpet.  Its a lot of work.  Did I say that already?  Maybe its just the pregnancy speaking... This carpet was the former owner's dream.  It is not mine.  I hate this carpet.  Hate is a strong word.  Its appropriate here.  I wanted to pull it up when we moved in, but we put it off.

I've always preferred wood floors.  Now I'll have them!  Though the Alaskan milled birch planks I'm dreaming of may have to wait for the next round of renovations. In another few years.