I'm sitting down here in my studio....

Wait, yes, that's right. As in, "my craftiness and I are so important that we now have a studio," or "I was tired of calling it a craft room so I thought I'd call it something more swank like a studio," or "howsabout I just claim one room in this house where I can't be bothered for at least 5 minutes together because this is my place of employment so, since office sounds pretentious I may as well crank it up a notch and call it a studio."

As in studio.

This is where my clutter lives. This is where papers that need to be filed go to die. This is where I can blog but not much else because the internet is terrible down here.

Also, I'm posting things to an Etsy shop now. I've been crocheting potholders and sewing dolls and monsters for a while as a means of gifting to my girls for not as expensive as buying "real" toys, as well as a means of managing anxiety. I already take the pills so it was time to up the management to hobbies.

I was sitting there, relaxing with some crochet and enjoying some BBC crime drama when my mind started wandering and I thought "the only things that would make this better is if I could watch Bollywood while doing this (subtitles + working with hands = massive headache and bad product) AND if someone would pay me to do this...."

And then I laughed, because no one pays someone to watch TV and play with yarn.

Then a friend told me to sell my stuff. And another, and another.

I finally ran out of excuses (can't find camera! don't have enough product to open an online shop! and anything else I could think of as a mask to my real fear: no one will want it.) and today I took pictures, labeled all of the inventory bags, and I'm taking the plunge.

Please, please wish me enough luck to at least cover the capital I've put into this.