We're in the middle of back-to-back installs at the studio, so it's been all about the prep (notice how I managed to avoid saying the "b" word in that sentence?). A lot of said prep (and here's the not so fun secret of interior design) is logistics — a meticulously (though not always graceful) choreographed dance of movers/installers/electricians/painters/carpenters/drapery makers and the such. Thankfully I have a rather kick ass project manager that makes all this go down pretty spectacularly (I love you Sarah).

The other part of the prep (and this friends is the fun part) is procuring the accessories. This is where I get to satisfy my shoppin' jones with boxes of books, pottery, plants, and other pretty things that I then get to use to create vignettes in someone else's home. It's really the greatest. thing. ever. I'm not gonna lie.

If we're lucky, we also have the privilege of creating art for our lovely clients. This is, without a doubt, a group affair; we brainstorm and divide and conquer pieces based on the team's individual talents, and, honestly, I'm usually so occupied (please note the absence of the "b" word again) with other aspects of the install that I've leave the painting and drawing to my more artistically talented cohorts.

But this weekend I got my paint on, and dang it felt good. It reminded me how in the midst of the planning and procuring and whatnot that sometimes you just need to make things (or at least I do). It's a pretty restorative enterprise.

Now I just need to remember that the next time the girlies ask me to stop balancing the checkbook (yes I still use a checkbook) and make cookies with them...