On a recent episode of The Paperclipping Roundtable, I admitted my bad habit of allowing completed layouts to pile up on our seldom-used dining room table and procrastinating the dreaded task of putting them into albums:
This is the possibly the most expensive piece of furniture ever designed to hold scrapbook layouts. Luckily, I was able to pass it off to Mike as a "dining room table."
Of course, the impending Thanksgiving dinner always forces me to address this habit, and if you read this blog with any regularity, you can probably imagine the dragging-of-feet-and-incessant-whining that ensues. I often spend several hours trying to arrange the piles into a unique and decorative table centerpiece, but the fear of my family spilling gravy and wine on them usually wins out and I am forced to just put them away already.
So I thought this might be a good time to give you a peek into my album organization. And - bonus! You also get a peek into my dusty, dirty dining room! Lucky you!
When I complete layouts, I do try to pile them up according to what album they will go in. I categorize my albums like this: Dickinson Family, Hayden, Riely, Mike & Lisa, All About Me, Christmas & Heritage. I use American Crafts Modern Albums in black, and decorate the covers with a simple strip of patterned grosgrain ribbon (I get it at Hobby Lobby).
The ribbon lets me add a bit of color to each album, yet when they are lined up on a shelf, only the black spine shows. Which soothes my inner OCD.
On each album, I attach a tag that hangs on the spine identifying the album type and number. I use the 2.25-inch Avery Martha Stewart tags (available at Staples). I cover the front of each tag with my own labels, printed on cardstock:
Then the albums all go into our front entry coat closet (just off my scrap room), which we converted from a hanging rod to shelves for this purpose:
Please ignore the bottom shelf like I do and let's focus on the nice, uniform, organized albums, okay?
Ahhhhh. Much better.
So that's that. And now I must go commence this yearly tradition, for I have gravy-hungry relatives decending on the homestead in less than 24 hours. I'll be alternating my whining with my other little-known yearly tradition of singing Christmas carols in a falsetto voice at the top of my lungs. Good times.
