A mild disaster is what led to this nifty remote holder. It’s that moment when you totally freeze because you don’t know what the crashing noise could be. A million things race through your mind. I ran toward the sound of the crash. The closet. I opened it and then I knew. My jewelry armoire had fallen over! How in the world? Yes, it was broken in several pieces. Yes, my jewelry was scattered everywhere. And so were the little teeth. Yes, teeth. I didn’t think I was being weird for keeping my kid’s baby teeth after they put them under their pillow for the tooth fairy. Are you just supposed to throw them away? Who knew? So I’m scrambling around on the floor trying to pick up tiny teeth when my grown children walk in and catch me. Of course, they scold me for keeping something so “gross and ridiculous” all these years. Needless to say, all of the tiny teeth went to the trash. Most of the armoire went to the trash, save this one little drawer. I painted it white and turned it into a remote holder. But forget about the remotes. That’s not so ingenious. It’s the memory of me scavenging for teeth that’s priceless.
This post could definitely fall under “a use for things” as well because I wasted no time finding a use for this wire basket from an old bicycle. I see a lot of the neat variations of metal crates hung on walls and love the look. This one has its rusty spots and bent barb, but that makes me love it even more. Pairing it up with some vintage-look bicycle prints creates a fun collage. I like to think that the rolled papers are the sheet music to “A Bicycle Built for Two,” but they’re not. ..I still sing the tune in my head every time I see them, so I suppose their true purpose reigns.
My daughter enjoys sewing projects and had a cute sewing station set up in my shop before she got married. She kept all of her threads in this old wooden crate attached to the wall as well as some very old buttons and thimbles belonging to her great grandmother. Although Faith is married now, her “sewing crate” still hangs in my shop. I’m sure someday, when she has room for a sewing station, she will likely take the crate away. Until then, I will gladly keep it.. as do I the memories of our times together working in the shop.
This stapler belonged to my husband’s grandmother and is super old. I don’t even know if it works. I only know that it squeaks. I love how it looks on my barn wood shelf with a mason jar of bright colored pencils. I don’t even use colored pencils.. or staplers. But my workspace should be about smiling, thinking, remembering, creating. And so should yours.
I have a lot of tiny things in my shop. Honestly, I don’t even use many of them. But their tiny size intrigues me for some strange reason. Of course, stores sell perfectly acceptable trays with dividers for such small supplies. But, that’s no fun. I would have to purchase said trays instead of using the cute little bottles I already have. More importantly, storing tiny brushes this way makes me want to take one.. to dip in paint.. to illustrate a story.. that I want to write.. about a tiny brush.. that lived in a bottle.. on a shelf.. in a shop.. with a very green door.