Workspace

I recently saw a project where someone took photographs of the insides of people’s refrigerators. Along with each photo the authors listed the person’s profession, marital status, and age. I thought it was fascinating. And it made me think of my refrigerator, heavily stocked with milk and ketchup, sure signs of young children in the house.

I’m not willing to show you my refrigerator but here’s a picture of my workspace. It tells a good story about what’s going on at our house this week. Not visible on this table are the beanbags from Timothy’s foray into the world of juggling, my iron cooling before I put it away and a stack of CDs full of photos for a DVD project I’ve decided to do.

I admit it. I am overwhelmed today and that doesn’t happen very often.

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Angela

I write so my family will always have letters from home.