BARING OF THE SOUL - OR THE MEANING OF THIS BLOG TITLE

Having had little time to spit lately, have just spent a delicious half hour drooling on Arlee's last few blog entries. I would like to say that I resolve to be a better blogger but Betty Botter knows that only bitter butter will come from that batter. But, here I am and, as I promised to Arlee and all, here is what I laughingly call the space (s) I work in, on and under plus the storaged secretly unfinished, forgotten and languishing projects, with various materials and stuff I am "gonna do stuff with". My latest excuse is reasonable having to complete 4 bridesmaids dresses, my own dress, jacket and hat (I thought, plus maybe a bag) for the wedding. On top of that, I foolishly made floral baby bouquet thingies and arrangements that I will (definitely, promise, promise) post about, out of fabric paper and they have become extremely popular. To the point that people are pressing me to start a business (I will, probably) making them up as gifts to give at showers, etc. Plus my brain is reeling with all sorts of spinoff ideas and plans and how I can streamline the process, how I can access good wholesale suppliers and....... really and truly I do not have time to think about that now. I also have to do 100 wretched bonbonierre that are only half made and 100 chair wrap, bow, cover or tie thingies that don't cost an arm and a leg and look amazing (to rent, these bastards are $4 each, so there is another business I am thinking about). Any ideas, directions, websites etc anyone can offer will be smooched all over. OK, here goes, no more procrastinating:

Informal meals area with permanently set up sewing machine and ironing board.

Above, right is dining table, same are, covered with partly finished bits of clothing and even the high chair is not safe from storing some recent fabric purchased for the b.m.s.

At left, even armchairs are not safe - this in the family room holds a b.m. muslin being altered, plus my last year's Xmas tree (cardboard, black print) and a nest that Dylan made with wool for his baby birds (off the tree). Hell, I will get round to putting the decs away, it's not Easter yet.

Below, birdseye view of what I laughingly refer to as my coffee table, on this occasion scattered with Dylan's latest WIPs (God only knows what they are).

Above, right are the discarded projects from aeons ago at the bottom of the "baby's room" . These include, but are not limited to - knitting, crochet, scrumbling, scrapbooking (latter lasted 2 days til I realised it was rather like school projects.)

Next, we have the "spare" room, wherein shelves chockas with once upon a time nicely rolled and sorted fabrics lived. Now a project about my Dad, abandoned 2 years ago languishes atop a jumble pile, that has leapt to the floor in suicidal despair. Also in same room, a cupboard containing hangers of sheer fabrics, but alas, many of them have chosen the floor as a permanent residential site.

And finally, beginning under that we see the joke known as the abundant storage areas in the formal lounge and dining rooms. I could not even begin to list what horrors lie within. On that note, I leave to watch a Sunday movie about, appropriately enough, tsunamis.