My creative space is, intentionally, in my kitchen. It is cluttered by the blurb books that I have created of family vacations. It is cluttered by various toys and daily detritus from having a three kids constantly milling about. It contains the one picture of 3 generations — my grandfather, my father, and my brother. I can look outside and watch my dogs wrestle. It is where everyone gathers, and I can let the business of life wash over me as I think about what I have started with and what I want the end result to be. My workspace. It’s where life surrounds me.