Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to plan this truck load show at the store the week I returned from New York. It only takes a few new items to make an entire redirection of the shop necessary. I love my handyman Ben, who took up the thankless job of helping me, saying, "like, do you have a core plan?" Design by tornado by definition has a core, it's just a lethal plan. I hope in the midst of my storm, he didn't inhale the same wicked respiratory virus I did. While he's pondering a safe place to stand, I'm considering introducing a cello's steamer truck to the art deco collection. Will they be happy together? Will a headless baby mold and a giant plaster longhorn steer make a nice pair? Is it something you would see with a collection of faded and torn 1940's showgirl costumes? Around the store it spirals, moving once, moving twice, around and around until it lands just where it belongs…well do arranged marriages last any longer than the ones you buy in Vegas? I have often wondered what goes on in there after I shut off the lights. Whoa, this road warrior life may not be conducive to lucid thought. I just got a look at myself in the mirror. Disturbing. Should I throw these work jeans out? You know I won't. I feel like a petulant girl scout. I earned the damn badge, I'm gonna cover my ratty jeans with them. I confess to two melt downs this week. And yet, here I am still up, still writing. You push this hard, you are gonna get to the other side. It's not for everybody. But it is kind of a zen practice for me now. I hunt the high and low, look for whatever it is that is looking for me, design it with whatever else is in the store, it looks random and inefficient, but I really am consistent in my taste and somehow it meets my aesthetic criteria. Though the method may only work for me, it has worn a particular groove and I always find it, get into it. Creative brain function occurs. Sick and tired, it happens on auto pilot regardless. The last thing I did tonight before I dragged myself out of there was take this picture of a display that represents what it is I really want to do. I call it "Montmartre" I want to create fantastic environments, I want to travel. I love Paris. Any number of experiences have gotten under my skin and they come out when I'm busy working. The little things please me like, how great the florist's funerary cross form looks with all that vintage upholstery trim wrapped around it. This makes a difference to me. Will you know how long I've had these materials? No. I promise you it becomes an entirely new thing when you change the relationships of things. Well, for a while anyway (Hmmm dangerous road…key change) Wow, I just now realized I'm salvaging my own salvage. More like, I'm going insane and I'm taking you with me. You won't be bored, but boundaries are probably a good idea.