My partner Sara STILL says I’m a hoarder. She admits it might be a sickness, but she’s been known to call it a curse—
(—even after I abandoned most of my collections when we moved to Ecuador.)
Sara, also, claims that “collection” is a euphemism for the buttons and beads, bottle caps and maps I gather, then store in my studio.
(I, on the other hand, prefer to call my collections “collagables”—potential art.)
In all seriousness, I have a passion for transforming trash into treasure– for repurposing something you might throw away into something that might just blow away your friends and family this holiday season.
Sure, I may have a chronic case of pack-rat-it is. I may have crossed a line—stepped off the edge separating the safe side of sanity from the abyss that is crazy-ass-recycling.
Still, morphing junk into joy can be tons of fun—and a whole lot less crazy than…
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