From the May 2005 newsletter...

When I was a child growing up in rural central Wisconsin my Dad had a workshop in the garage.  Under no circumstances were we to touch anything in that shop.  If we did, the heavens would open up, the rivers would swell, and Dad would develop a twitch that would surely let him know that we had dared enter his kingdom.  Just anticipating that look across the dinner table was enough to make us think twice before experimenting with those curious tools or wearing the welding helmet for a pretend game of knights and warriors.  My children have rules for each other that are very similar.  Neither may enter the other’s room without permission or they must return a “fee” to the occupant.  They stand by this rule steadfastly, asking two and three times if the other is sure it is ok to go and retrieve whatever it is they need at the moment.  They will even honor it when one is not home (like the other kid is gonna know), obtaining permission from me or Dave to enter the room.  The house could be burning down around us and they would stop to barter about whether it is ok to go up and get the CD the other one borrowed.  Why then, is my sewing room open game for anyone and everyone to prance in and out of, leaving stuff on my counters, moving things, using my supplies?  My room is a craft room, messy, cluttered, a gift-wrapping, hot-gluing, scrapbooking, sewing haven and escape from daily life. But I know where everything is; if I need a certain embellishment I can locate it without missing a beat.  My motto is “Throw Nothing Away”.  I thought I had the same rights as everyone else but I was sadly mistaken.  Recently I told my hubby that he couldn’t find the tape because it was in my “double secret hiding spot”.  At that point one of the kids hollered, “I’ll get it Dad!”.  I don’t recall being asked if it was ok to go in there.  And how is it they know where that hiding spot is, anyway?  If I’m not mistaken, I think I’m owed some serious entry fees…..