Henry is a shouter. I wish you could hear it, but it basically sounds like an old man with his hearing aid turned too low. "Aaaaa! Aaaaaa! ... Bwa." And when the shouting gets too loud and Mommy tags out, she hides in the basement.
Oh, my wonderful basement. It was pretty much finished about nine months ago, but I haven't really gotten to spend as much time down there as I would like since somebody else was finished about nine months ago, too. He's not a huge fan of the basement even though we watch PBS Kids when we're down there and nobody makes him iron.
I never showed pictures of the room once it was finished, and while I could pretend to be embarrassed about the hurricane that blew through there, let's not kid ourselves. This is a space that is used, abused, and rarely vacuumed. Having crap everywhere does make it harder to work, but I like a challenge and I'm very good at moving piles of things around. All of my favorite things are in this room, and why would I want to put them away? So the Internet thinks I'm neat? Internet, we clearly haven't met.
You'll notice two main themes in this room: sewing and knitting. Actually, fabric and yarn. Those shelves don't contain all of the yarn - there are two Steralite containers on the other side of the room. One holds sock yarn, the other holds handspun (mostly mine). I do not consider them deep stash, and I dig through the sock one quite a bit.
I do most of my work on the same kitchen table I smeared with Play-Doh when I was little. She's a sturdy old thing, and she's lived in more houses than I have. Yes, I would love a taller, bigger, better cutting table, but even if I had that, my old friend would still be part of my craft room. We are soulmates, I think, bound by years of abuse and new hobbies.
I sew on a crappy sewing cabinet from Jo Ann. It works.
The brown chair is for all manner of yarn craft, most often knitting and untangling said yarn. Sometimes Justin sits in it while I work at the table, and sometimes Gracie loses her mind and jumps onto the ottoman. Most often, it is covered in fabric, yarn, and other crafting supplies.
The little table next to it is a family heirloom. It's my tea party table from when I was little (also used for numerous lemonade stands), and it's official name is The Little Red Table. It has a bum leg that falls off when you pick it up.
I love this table. Justin doesn't understand the appeal of the table and why I'm so attached to it, and he's tried to convince me to get rid of it. I would rather lose a limb. This table is Home to me. I've crafted on it ever since I was a wee thing, and when I wanted to create a collage on top of it before I went to college, my dad stepped in and made the wooden topper you see on it now. I collaged on top of that, and my little red table is (somewhat) pristine underneath.
My quilt design wall is at the very back of that picture, close to the sewing machine. Right now, it's just holding a few squares I was auditioning for my pixelated piece, but it's become invaluable when putting together the mostly-solid quilts I love. It's just a huge piece of cheap batting tacked up with some contractor's nails. It's the reason why I was okay with giving up my old craft room (stupid baby) and why I wanted my new space to be in the basement.
My favorite part of the room is right when you come down the stairs. This room is covered with strangely-shallow and oddly-shaped built in cabinets, and this cabinet is where I keep 90% of my fabric (the other 10% is on the floor in front of the cabinet. I am lazy.) Inside, there is a glorious rainbow.
Solids, how I love thee.
So there's the room. It's not pretty, it's not neat, and it's not for the faint of heart. It's exactly what I wanted.