Now this post might strike a chord with some of you. Some of you it might not. I'm aware that some people manage to live in pared down minimalist houses and then there are others who live in a hodge podge of stuff. I'm one of the latter. My man, the girls and I all have magpie tendencies. We gather, collect, create and store stuff and every now and then all that stuff needs a bit of organising, a spot of getting on top of.
I can't think of a better way to justify in my own head my burning desire for more and more baskets. Not only are they blinking gorgeous to look at, they're pretty darned useful too. I love that everything I need can be stored in one place and then moved here and there.
I store fabric in some, all folded away ready to dip into. The bigger bits hide on shelves in the laundry room. I have to say this is one of my favourite baskets. I was asked by an artist once if they could borrow it for a still-life they were painting, that's just how lovely this basket is.
Then there's the basket that was once the picnic basket, but now it's become the overflow place for cookbooks.
This is the random things basket. Only lovely things are allowed in here, but they are random because I don't know where else to put them for now. Each thing is actually on it's way somewhere else. Golly needs to visit the bathroom for a good old wash and scrub up and the books need to find a shelf.
This wee basket has become useful for long sticky stuff and just makes me smile at it's smallness.
Then we have unfinished projects baskets and dressmaking projects baskets all heaving and ready to topple over if I don't go and rescue them soon.
Piled high above all these useful baskets is another one that displays my wares at markets. At home it holds onto sticky backed plastic and other vintage papers.
By my desk are piles of books and magazines (just out of shot) and then there is the tidy basket of a few bigger ones ready for fireside reading.
Waiting for me each evening are a multitude of knitting and crochet baskets. This one is my favourite at the moment as I dash to try and finish both things in it before it gets really really cold.
Just over the way there is the forgotten projects basket, not to be confused with the really very forgotten project basket (not shown). Behind that is another favourite which is in the shape of a coconut. I was offered money to sell this on the same day that I hummed and haaed about buying a peach of a 1950's basket. I thought too long and hard and when I went back to get it it was gone.
This was one of the first baskets I bought many moons ago lined with beautiful delicate French fabric. Pip our older cat has had too much fun with the handle and has even more fun destroying my repairs, so it doesn't come on shopping trips anymore.
There are a few more baskets here and there holding onto daft stuff we just can't bear to throw out.
I imagine there will also be tons more baskets coming to live with us as we always need a good looking bit of moveable storage.
Alongside all of this I'm feeling a bit of a true basket case myself. My mates have told me it's definately hormonal, but I don't like it one bit. Words are eluding me when I'm talking. I chat to my man describing the word, but am unable to find it in my head. I often start conversations and wonder what on earth I'm on about. I feel as if an army of invisible insects are crawling over my skin and I'm really really snappy and emotional. Apparently this is all normal. I'm only in my 40's for goodness sake and I don't think it's normal at any age to be this held to ransom by hormones. Just thought I'd mention it as I want to blog with my voice, but then I find I'm struggling to find the upbeat me hidden in the depths. I want me back basically and I'm impatient to know the date she'll be arriving.
As always I really appreciate your kind words and thoughtful comments. You said some really insightful and helpful things about this whole parenting malarkey which made me feel a whole heap better. So thankyou.