Sara hasn’t exactly banned me from my studio. She hasn’t forced me out or forced her way in. But we’ve been cleaning at our house this weekend, Sara upstairs (where my studio is) me, down.
Admittedly, the place needs tidying—a sponge, a mop—
“Backhoe is more like it!” Sara yells from the studio I can’t get to.
You see, a stairway separates us—the one I fell down more than a month ago, the one I’m renovating with paper and paint, protecting with polyurethane, the “fast drying” variety, which takes merely days, instead of decades, to dry.
Wet spots make it nearly impossible to traipse up or down.
So, upstairs, where I can’t get to, Sara’s cleaning, and there I’m afraid a frenzy of house-keeping enthusiasm will tempt her to trash my crafter’s valuables— my jars of buttons, my Coketabsbottleslids. I’m, justifiably, afraid a fit of cleansing crazy will turn her tidy into toss—end in an untimely and unfortunate paper purge of junk mail, labels, lists—
“And empty cat food cans,” Sara screams from somewhere over head.
Okay, yes, I saved a few cat food cans back in my feline-loving days, but like the stairway I’ve redeemed, it’s all been transformed into art, literally, in fact:
In the meantime, I’ve been downstairs cleaning, preparing for the arrival of my blogging buddies Tuesday—Tori (“The Ramblings”), driving up from Tennessee and Lisa (“Woman Wielding Words”), flying in from Massachusetts.
I’ve swept, scoured, scrubbed—discovering more dust than any WordPress-worthy blogger has right to.
I’ve shined the stove. I’ve pledged the surfaces, promising Sara upstairs that I’d reform my down and dirty ways. But I’m a collage artist, a mixed media, paper lovin’—
“Shit-lovin’s more like it.” I hear Sara’s echo from above.
It’s true. I tend to collect stuff—stuff that kindly collects dust in return, the upcycler’s inevitable thank you.
It’s true. I’m elbow deep in paper, dust, and dirt, but sometimes you have to scrub a bowl to serve a meal. Sometimes it takes a little dirt to make a better blog. Sometimes we write grit. Sometimes we write grime. But once the writings polished, the comments (or in my case, visiting bloggers) will arrive.
How do you house-clean your writing before pushing “publish?” What seeming trash, have you upcycled into treasure? Have the comments, we as bloggers treasure, ever transformed in actual friendships for you?
Note: If you will happen to be in the central Kentucky area (Lexington, Louisville, Cincinnati, Knoxville) on Wednesday, Tori, Lisa and I would love you to join us for lunch at Third Street Stuff (downtown Lexington). If you’d like to come, please email me at firstname.lastname@example.org or leave a note in the comments below, and I’ll be in touch with more details.
Please forgive me if I’m not reading your amazing posts this week. I’ve got actual, in-the-flesh bloggers in town to entertain. I’ll be back to the virtual world as soon as possible.