Saturday, November 7, 2009

Continued Adventures of CrapCat

CrapCat is still perched atop my computer monitor, overlooking the stuff on my desk (CrapDesk, if you will).  Currently, he sports what was supposed to be a dragon-skin dicebag, complete with tail.  Said dicebag is not turning out quite as planned so I put it on the cat:



Here is that which he oversees:


Messy, huh? Objects you see include a d20 approximately 3" in diameter; foam shuriken (next to the d20); the remains of the brown yarn from which CrapCat was made; a flashlight, generally used to locate dpn's that have rolled under my desk; a pen/pencil cup; a pretty box hiding many miscellaneous (mostly useless) objects; a toy rolling pin; my sharpies and some software. Oh, and a sheep, who from this angle appears to end in a small cloud. I'll leave that a mystery.

I post the picture of my desk because I have recently seen (in other people's blogs) pictures of desks well-organized and neat, desks organized with interesting and useful things, desks that invite one to sit and create. Unfortunately, my desk does not fit into that category. And yet, it is the very process of creating things, repairing things, etc., that repeatedly brings my desk into its current state. Funny, my desk at work does not look like this: at work, I am very organized. Apparently I leave my organizational skills in my desk drawer at work when I come home. Fortunately, I can still locate poo-brown yarn and needles so I can make a CrapCat on demand.

1 comment:

  1. I would like to mention that CrapCat has tiny, green horse-fly colored eyes, fitting in with the whole 'poop du jour' theme.

    I'm failing to mention his special "face plant" pose because words just wouldn't do it justice anyway. Haha!

    As to your desk: you nonetheless produce marvelous things, magical things, made with not just yarn but unquestionable love and care. That's a remarkable thing in a madly disposable high speed careless world.

    I also very strongly feel, as I mentioned, but need to say here, in your defense, that the job and four uniquely discombobulated children pretty much saps any desk-pretty ambitions.

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