I had the sewing machine out, for routine wardrobe maintenance and alterations, possibly too much time on my hands, and I came across some scraps I had put aside for the oft-requested outfit. I considered for a moment something in silk and ostrich feathers, but the dinosaur won. She looks quite cute, in a bewildered sort of way. But my daughter is happy, and as she often says, that's the important thing.
I've been having a bit of a de-clutter, but when it comes to the stash, one can only go so far. I saw a post on Facebook for a garage sale, where someone commented that they had never seen so much junk. I was stunned, the garage in the post looked positively minimalist. My latent fear of featuring on one of those shows about hoarders surfaced, briefly.
I don't so much have junk, as a stash. A BIG stash. Of lots of things. All of which can be re-used for something, although not necessarily their original purpose. I don't mind sharing things, when someone needs something, but I have to draw the line at tossing things away in a willy-nilly manner.
Over the past few weeks I've had some visitors who appreciated my stash. It's nice, and reassuring, not to be viewed as the upcycling equivalent of a mad old cat woman, and I enjoyed sharing some gems with them. In return, I saw my stuff through their eyes, which gave me some new ideas. We agreed that you can't be creative without a stash.
Although it's technically winter, the weather's been sunny and still. I spent a morning sitting on the front steps with a cup of tea, watching a whale slothing about in the harbour. You could tell it was cold this morning, when I awoke to one paw visible against the white sheet. My little friend emerged later, so that he could have a tummy rub while I worked my way through another Dresden File. It's a busy job, being a security dog. You don't want to peak too early.