This weekend, I finished up my second full kit.  Actually, two kits, 1 full alpha, 2 paper packs, all uploaded to 3 shops.

It was the result of 2 weeks of late nights and takeout food.  Now, you may know that when I finish one kit- I’m drained. Exhausted.  But after this schedule?  I was a zombie.  

And what was killing me (if zombies can be killed-) was the fact that hubby said he would take the boys out for a few hours to the park.  Now, Moms of boys know that they are so very similar to big bounding, goofy Labradors. They are just full of energy which, if not run out in a physical manner, will turn into a patience bending meltdown by 4pm.  They need to be run every day- and if you do it well- you’ll get some peace and happiness subsequent to said run.

 So- with hubby doing this for me it, 1. Relieved my guilt for not having energy to run them myself and 2. Promised a block of about 3 hours I could refill my creative soul with some scrapping! I would have the house to myself! Woohoo!

So, I waved them goodbye, clicked my heels and like a madwoman pulled out my supplies and paints, fired up the computer, put on a cup of coffee and cranked the tunes.  I was ready to dance baby!  And then- it stopped. Dead stop.  Pictures.  I had no photos.  And the last thing I wanted to do was go into my photo files in the PC- because that- in and of itself is a black hole.  I get in there, click around, pull a few out for editing- reminisce.  It’s a tangent I didn’t want to do today.

So- what’s a girl to do?  Go to the morgue.  Yep. That’s my name for the BIG black box of photos that have no specific theme.  The doubles I have printed.  The no-so-great shots that I cant part with. The half cut ones.  It’s a big box of photos that I keep in my office that the boys are free to pull from when they have projects- or that I dip into when I really just want to free-form scrap.

Let’s say I want to tell a story about my little guy- say, something silly he said.  Now- more than likely, I wont have a photo of him uttering the words- but I know I have a picture of him in my box I can pull from the morgue and  use in my layout.

The cool mojo consequence of all this is that my page is not photo centered now.  It becomes focused on the journaling- or the pure art of itself.  It’s a very liberating way to scrap.  And I always feel very recharged after creating this way.  letting go of the perfection of the photo, and instead, embracing the joy of the storytelling.  Don’t worry- you don’t have to call it a morgue- that’s just my warped macabre humor.  You can call it a treasure box- or a hideaway.  But if you have boys, trust me.  They will think it’s cool that Mom has a morgue. 😉