Everything is coming up Megan

The past couple of weeks I have spent virtually no time on the internet. Well, no time aside from checking my email, speedracing through google reader, and occasionally curling up with a blanket and a mug of coffee to watch episodes of Project Runway and America's Psychic Challenge on mylifetime.com (shut up, they're good. QUIT JUDGING ME). This is not intentional - me and internet are still bff4ever. It's because I've been spending my days away from home in a little pink schoolhouse that has no computer.

One of my big failings is that I have a ridiculously stubborn inability to ask for help or worse, to accept help when it is being offered to me and I quite clearly need it. I don't know why I'm like this, but I always have been, and no matter how much I try to work on it, I suspect I always will be. The worse thing about it is that occasionally I'll resent loved ones for not just jumping in to help in spite of my saying I don't need help. I know - I'm a monster. I'm going somewhere with these non sequiturs. Promise.

A few years ago, my brother and sister-in-law bought their first house, which is located in Willmore City. Willmore City is a small pocket of Long Beach that if properly rehabilitated could be a historical district the likes of which is virtually nonexistent in Southern California. It holds the oldest homes in Long Beach: gorgeous Victorians left to crumble for the last hundred years, most of which are now inhabited by people who have no feeling or respect for the gorgeous architecture they reside in. It's one of the most densely populated pockets of the city and ergo one of the poorest and most crime-riddled. I never drive through it without feeling my heart break a bit and wondering what would happen if the city council spent one quarter of the effort on preserving this area as they do trying to build up the nearby downtown for visiting conventioneers. Here I go again with my non sequiturs. This is what happens when I don't blog for two weeks - I'm cramming too much into this one entry. Let me back up.

A few years ago, my brother and sister-in-law bought their first house, which is located in Willmore City. It was the height of the real estate bubble, but because of the neighborhood and having an excellent real estate agent, they were able to secure a hundred year old Victorian mansion that even in its current state is absolutely delightful and with proper renovation could be a complete showstopper. Their home had long ago been carved up into a fourplex, where something like 25 people were living on one small piece of property. My brother and sister-in-law dreamed of opening a small school for young children, where they could spend as much time as possible with their own kids while also making an impact on other young children. And that is precisely what they did. They used the different parts of the house for their living quarters and the school. The downstairs bedrooms were nap central. Next to the house was a small detached building that had been a carriage house a hundred years ago and had since been turned into living quarters. They painted it pink and dubbed it the schoolhouse and taught lessons to toddlers there. Recess was held under an old juniper tree in front of the schoolhouse.

Which brings me back to the beginning. Almost a year ago, Sean and Cindy closed the school. They are both writing professionally now. And the schoolhouse had been unused save for a convenient bathroom when their kids were playing outside. The past few months, they have been offering the schoolhouse to me as a studio, and I have been resisting. Resisting because I have a hard time asking for help, because it was still filled with toys and teaching materials and that was my excuse as to why it wasn't really unused, but mostly resisting because I am stubborn to a degree that puzzles even me.

I moved in two weeks ago, and feel overwhelmingly grateful every day. I am so in love with my new studio. The space is perfect for me. The living room is where I print. There is a kitchen that will be my office once I move a computer over. And there is a bedroom that stays cold even in summer that will be the most perfect flower studio. There is a little yard out in front with a picnic table where I eat my lunches. My brother and sister-in-law stop by during the day for visits, and at night my niece and nephew come to visit and they're so adorable that they make my heart ache with happiness. At night when I go home, I really feel like I've left work behind me and I can relax and enjoy my leisure time. I think I may actually get to craft again - something that I have not had time to do since ghost academy started taking off over a year ago.

I'm staying home today to do laundry and house cleaning, and I am just itching to go in to my studio instead. I never thought it would be like this. And I am so grateful.