The Organization Blues

It was cold here this weekend, making it entertaining to read other blogs where people wrote about dealing with the heat. I spent the holiday weekend sporting a sweater and thinking about knitting something with wool.

Hot weather won't stop me from knitting with wool. I might not wear what I make until September, but a little heat won't keep me out of that kitchen.

One of the charms of the house we're renting is the basement, my craft room, lovingly referred to as "the bowling alley" by the Emperor of the Garage. Our friend, the empresario of the One Horse Popsicle Stand, calls it "the Ballroom." It's a giant finished basement room, with two small high windows, miles of shag carpet, and about ten (maybe twelve) electrical outlets spaced conveniently around the walls. The room is eternally cool, which will make it the Retreat of Choice this summer when the sun comes out, which it eventually will. Wool can be knitted in my downstairs lair. There are two (old beloved) comfy chairs, a lamp, bookshelves, a small table, and a boom box on one end of the room to facilitate comfortable crafting. I also have an old desk for the sewing machine, and a cafeteria table for larger projects. My big Christmas present from the Emperor was a magnifying glass/craft lamp, which now hovers over the table ready for detail work. But first, there are some other details to take care of.

I spent a part of the weekend trying (still and again) to get the craft room organized. It holds a lifetime's accumulation of craft materials in a gazillion containers of varying sizes, ages, and conditions. It might be useful to compile a partial inventory of what's down there.

• Fabrics: everything from several-yard pieces intended for garments to fat quarters for quilts; also, sewing machine and plastic tote full of sewing thread; pile of mostly outdated patterns (but styles come back. I won't regret keeping these patterns for a while yet)
• Cross stitch: a tub containing both organized cards of floss and loose floss; partially finished projects (none newer than ten years old); various sizes and gauges of cross stitch fabrics; several hoops and one large stretcher; about twenty books of patterns; frames
• Crewel embroidery projects: every single one of these was started by someone else and then forwarded to me when the giftor discovered that they didn't care for crewel.
• Beadwork: beads, needles, thread, leather, and other findings
• Spinning: one spinning wheel; one large basket of washed white fleece; one basket of an assortment of washed dyed fleece bits; about half of a batt of white Romney; smaller bags of an assortment of fibers including flax line, yak, silk, alpaca, llama, rayon, cotton, and various staple-lengths of naturally colored wool roving; one homemade charkha; niddy noddy; lazy kate; drum carder; one whole nearly-black washed fleece; one medium chocolate brown washed fleece; one whole grey washed fleece; one whole raw white fleece
• Weaving: one handmade floor loom, 4-shaft counterbalance. I haven't the faintest idea of how to warp it or use it but I'm still in the research phase; one large boat shuttle with four bobbins; one flat wooden shuttle; one cone cotton carpet warp
• Costumes: Renaissance faire costumes for myself and the Emperor; one 1895 gown; one 1865 work dress; all kept in a canvas "closet"
• Knitting and crochet: One tote carrying needles; one tote with gourmet yarn; two laundry baskets full of yarn (this is the stash that all knitters both love and dread)
• Assorted other stuff: Jewelry findings; acrylic craft paint; glitter; crepe paper; glue; sequins; raffia; cardboard frame bases; linoleum block cutter; watercolor paints; hot glue guns

I'll never get ahead of this room. I'll always be a few totes shy of complete containment. But it's the trying that counts. At one point a few years ago, I decided that if I never accumulated a single new project I would still have enough goods to always have something creative to do, for the rest of my life. When I had money but no time, I stockpiled materials and when I had time but no money, I dove into the stash and made something for a friend's wedding, or for Christmas, or a quilt to keep me sane while writing the dissertation.

The windows need curtains -- the rods are there, with old bedsheets hanging over them from the last tenants. I bought some Mary Englebreit fabric to stitch up some simple curtains, which will neaten the room quite a bit (when I get them done). I guess part of the reason I have trouble working on the room is that I become overwhelmed with what there is to do. I need to take my own advice and apply The Salami Technique to the craft room.

The Salami Technique

You can eat a whole salami, but unless you're special, you can't do it all at one sitting. Salamis are best eaten one small slice at a time -- this way, they taste good and you still want some after you've had some. Do projects like you'd eat the salami: one small slice at a time.