What is a pile-er you may be wondering? A pile-er, is one who stacks things, of all sorts, into piles. It is a disease of the inherited kind. I received a double dose of the pile gene from my parents. Both are certifiable, grade A, top notch piler-ers. So I am here to say, and admit publicly, that I have a pile-ing problem. My husband must be snickering into his shirt as he reads this. For the record, my husband is not a pile-er. My pile-ing drives him bonkers.
I have a thing with magazines. Love them. Most of my magazines are of the knitting variety, but I have plenty of Martha saved, along with fashion, favorite pregnancy issues, and a few design publications. Most of my knitting issues are sorted into file holders, but not all. I have two tall stacks of mixed magazines which keep getting moved from room to room since I started working on the girls nursery about a year ago. I recently tried to place them in plain sight to guilt myself into dealing with them. The guilt thing hasn't really worked.
A few years ago, I worked for Melanie Falick when she was the editor of Interweave Knits. It was an awesome job. Of all the things I took away from my experience of working with Melanie, the introduction to idea sketch books, ranks tops in my book. Melanie introduced me to the idea of plain sketch books filled with inspirational ideas from favorite, ripped magazine pages. Why hadn't I ever thought of this before? I'd always pasted Duran Duran posters all over my bedroom walls along with clipped words and typeface I liked, and had filled countless scrap books with cuttings from the local paper. A project idea book, of all things pretty that I stumbled upon, had never before entered my mind. Part of my job was to sort through Melanie's never ending, oh so inspiring, pile of torn pages, and turn it all into mini look books which we could use to inspire ourselves and occasionally, the designers we worked with. I'd trim the images and lovingly tape them onto pages while at the same time, tried my best to sort scarves with scarves, knit dresses with other knit dresses, and so on. It was heaven. It didn't take me long to begin ripping, sorting, and taping up idea books of my own.
My two stacks of mixed magazines have been waiting for me to sort out issues which need to be kept whole from those which need to be ripped and then tossed into the recycling. Cesar loves a good recycling pile created by me. I think it sends happy chills up his spine all the way to the dump. I also believe that our girls are in cahoots with their Papa. The magazine piles have recently made their way next to the blue chair in the living room, smack dab in our girls eye line. Well, both of them, not just Marlo, nor has it been just Sabine... they have both been up to no good! They're in cahoots with Cesar, I tell you! The little turkeys make a quick combination of army crawl/swimmer crawl/regular crawling right over to my piles and, and, and... They have begun ripping pages from my hoarded magazines all on their own! Like everything and anything is being ripped! Cesar must have piped the words "No discrimination! No prisoners!" into the girls Sleep Sheep on a continuous loop for them to listen to after I've passed out. Marlo tries to eat her scores, Sabine simply bats her eyelashes at me, and poor Hugo jumps around as he hollers out, "Mom, Mom, come quick! The babies are ripping your magazines!"
This weekend I am going to sort those two piles of magazines and buy a baby gate.
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