I'd decided to blog about the name I’ve chosen to use. I am aware of the negative connotation that the word shack brings, It does however make me smile, and here is why.
In 2006, my husband and I were being faced with him losing income because the housing bubble was beginning to burst. We made a very hard decision to move to Oklahoma, where my family lives. After about six months, my mother's husband was stationed overseas, and I took over his man shack. Everyone in the family had called it the shack, quite frankly because of its appearance. It was originally a small one room apartment built in 1941.
My husband and mother cleared away all the junk pilled up around the shack shortly after I took over. The Shack has two rooms, total size about 20 feet by twenty feet. It has a sink and fridge, and bathroom. Everything I needed quite frankly. The roof needed replacing and the bathroom had been gutted except the toilet, but It was a calm studio area where I could begin creating again, without dealing with my cats and their destruction.
While I love my animals, they are not conducive to my creativity. Ever had your cat eat the matching glass eye that was supposed to go in the head you were creating? How about eat the hair off your sculpture while you were sleeping? Yeah, can say they've done both to me, which prompted me to move into the shack since the small apartment we were living in didn’t allow a separate room for me to utilize as a studio area.
We've since moved back to Arizona, but I miss the shack. I could blare my music, spend all day in there creating, have cold drinks and quick snacks, a sink to clean for cleaning, and a bathroom all in the shack without having to leave my creative bubble. I’ve vowed that later this year when we buy a home again, I’m building my own shack in the back yard.