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I am UmberDove.

And by that, I mean an artist.  One who hears stories in the wind, who paints because it is what her soul tells her to do, who smiths because the muse moves through her fingertips, who loves nothing more than the promise of an unexplored trail, the sound of the ocean in her ears, and scent of a serious cup of coffee.

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T-Minus Three Days

UmberDove

The move is quite official at this point; BC and I have already eaten two pizzas and all my strutting shoes are packed so that has to count for something.


I fear I look like a boozer. All my belongings carefully wrapped in tequila boxes and tucked into vodka crates. Makes me want a G&T. But, as it's only 11 am, I think I'll have another cup of Irish breakfast tea with a splash of milk and a dash of sugar in one of the [only two] mugs still unpacked.


So while I'm packing (or avoiding packing - I spend equal amounts of time on both) I'm asking myself these questions:
1. Where in my new home can I set up a little vignette with loads of gourds like this (found here, from Miss Nancy McKay)?
2. How on earth will I store my, eh hem, clothing collection? As a point of quirkiness, the house has one small closet. Period. I'm looking at wardrobes, but to be honest, I'll need a few. Any suggestions?
3. What color should I paint? I JUST painted our apartment in the warmest, wombiest (yeah, not a real word) pale camel shade - Boston Tea Party to be exact - and I've been given carte blanc to wield a roller in the new home.
4. Where can I find these little side tables (found here)? I want them ALL but especially that little turquoise number - I know, surprise surprise!
5. Can I justify purchasing this fabulous, scrumptious cowl or this beanie I've been lusting after for the last year? After all it will be considerably colder (and a touch snowier) out East and up the mountainside and a gal needs knits!

Well, signing off with a smart salute and dragging my heels to never-ending box-land,
- Umber