Love my lil' bag

I recently got one of these little Flip and Tumble bags as a gift. I am in love. It is so, so handy, and I love to marvel at the practical and innovative design. I stash the little balled-up bag in my regular purse and carry it at all times. Bring on a surprise trip to the market or last-minute stop at the drug store—my trusty little bag can do it all. 

The bag holds up to 25 pounds. Major props also for the shoulder strap (so when you carry 25 pounds, you don't rip holes in your hands, like you'd end up doing with a plastic bag). Best of all, they work exactly like Popples:

Now that you get the nostalgia factor, what are you waiting for? As with Popples, there are lots of colors available, so go get one!

Donate Your Phone

I finally broke down and upgraded my cell phone in December. I stashed the old phone in my box of mysterious electronic junk, unsure of exactly what to do with it next. Since the phone still works, Jenn gave me the great idea to donate the phone to the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence.

In conjunction with The Wireless Foundation, NCADV provides phones to individuals in dangerous situations. In its new life, my Samsung SCH-A950 can become a literal lifeline for someone in an emergency. I sent my mom's old phone in, too.

NCADV provides instructions for deleting your personal data from the phone. If you're broke, they even offer prepaid postage for your donation.

Donate your phone here.

Aaron Copland's Table

Ah, the things you may not know about those you live with. Little did I know that Chris has been harboring a secret love.

I have never been to Copland House, the charming composer's retreat once home to Aaron Copland himself, but I imagine the approach to the cottage feels serene and significant. Once inside, we face that which Christopher has long lusted after:

Aaron Copland's table.

A farmer made the wooden desk for Copland in the 1950s, and it still serves as a sturdy and flexible workspace for those who compose at the house. You can see it in the foreground in one of the images here. It is basically a large, un-fussy plank of wood.

While I was away in D.C. last week, Chris decided to bring this obsession into our house (gasp!). His attempt to re-create the Copland table without purchasing a new desk looks something like this:

This large, un-fussy plank of wood now residing in our study allows Chris to sprawl out as he does his writing. It also allows him to work right in front of the window, which, to this humble cube dweller, is as good as it gets. As silly as it is, I sort of love it. One day, I will get him the huge, heavy table of his dreams.

What fascinates me most about the Copland table is the idea of an historic workspace. Does the weight of past work done at that desk always inspire artists, or does it sometimes just turn up the pressure?

Whether it's Jane Austen's dainty little work table or O. Henry's cozy booth at Pete's Tavern, a workspace reflects its occupant. Some folks seem to need clutter and spontaneity to inspire them, while others thrive in an orderly environment. 

Most workspaces live and breathe in their own rights. There are dozens of magazines and hundreds of websites devoted to creating the perfect workspace. Have you created yours? Mine is still evolving, but I'm looking forward to seeing the first work Chris creates at his new table.

[edit: If you love peeking into people's houses like me, this book features photos of famous writers' workspaces.]