Vim, Vigor and Vinegar

I spent my Saturday washing clothes. Not just clothes, but towels, bedding and assorted textiles.

For those of you who have followed this blog since the beginning, you will maybe remember that doing the laundry is actually one of my favorites among the mundane chores. There is a certain pleasure in getting the stains out of clothes. In seeing crumpled, smelly things come out clean and fresh.

Even the folding holds a distinct joy. Seeing those hard-to-fold undershirts folded neatly and carefully.

What? You don’t fold them?

Or the fitted sheets…It’s like a personal challenge to see how perfectly I can fold one so that you can’t tell it isn’t the flat sheet.

I know. I am strange that way. But honestly. I enjoy such a sense of completion when the piles of dirty laundry are systematically tackled and put away, leaving a clean floor with nothing left to wash.

For at least a few hours.

But Superman took over the laundry for the last few years while our daughter and her three children lived with us. He is a very smart man, recognizing that awful compulsion I have for forging through the mounds of laundry generated by four very active people. And I do not include Superman or myself in that category.

It’s not that we aren’t active. We just don’t attract dirt, or the same kind of dirt, the way they did. We were potty trained long ago, so we are able to make it through the night without an accident. And, well, let’s face it. We generally don’t roll in the dirt, rummage through the trash, throw disgusting stuff at each other and spill everything all over ourselves. I hope we have a few more years left before we return to that in our second childhood.

But one thing that happened while Superman and our daughter handled the laundry was very annoying.

They didn’t keep the washing machine clean. And it is one of those front loaders. You know, the HE kind that uses less water and is prone to developing a stink.

Last summer I noticed my clean clothes had a stench. Ewwww.

I went down to investigate. OH MY GOODNESS. There was MOLD growing in the gasket. (Mind you, I am allergic to mold. It aggravates my asthma. THAT is a MAJOR PROBLEM.)

I googled replacements for the gasket. Over $100. Yikes. I decided that once our active bunch moved, I would order a new gasket.

Superman, who has honestly done his very best to do the laundry the right way (read MY way) has faithfully used vinegar in the rinse. We both like the way it keeps the dispenser free of build up and minimizes how much cleaning of residue we have to do. Note: Daughter does not like using vinegar. She seems to smell the vinegar after the cycle is completed. Apparently, Superman and I do NOT have that super-sensitive sense of smell.

So the active ones moved into a new home about a month ago, and I resumed my favored chore with renewed vim and vigor. (Is that grammatically correct?)

Vinegar and those awesome little pre-measured pods, along with a scoop of OxiClean in each load…

AND GUESS WHAT???

After one month, the mold is GONE! I kid you not. There is no trace of the nasty black stuff on the gasket and the machine smells great.

So for all of you Vinegar doubters out there, take my word for it–the stuff is awesome. And CHEAP.

 

My FIRST DIY

There are a lot of DIYers out there nowadays. Apparently, the new IN thing is to do it yourself and then brag about it and write a “tute” and “pin” it on Pinterest.

I am not quite that immersed in the whole post and brag stuff on Pinterest, but I DO wholeheartedly live my life in the DIY realm. And I love, love, love Pinterest. (My husband is not quite as much of a fan…it just means more work…)

Let’s face it…I have more time and junk than money, and I am married to someone who views our roles in this way: I am the composer and he is the performer; I am the architect and he is the contractor; I am the designer and he follows my plans. And believe me, we make some pretty remarkable music together…when he follows the music and is in the right key. Or as long as this designer fully communicates the plan and has thought through all the ins and outs…

It wasn’t always this way. My need to save junk from the dumpster created a lot of opportunities for Superman to show exactly what he was/is made of…and I think he now actually loves all the positive reinforcement that gets showered on him for all of his hard work.

At least, I think he likes it…except for when I say, “I have a great idea…” and he is already in the middle of another of my great ideas. Sigh…my brain runs way too fast for my own good…

But once upon a time, he didn’t know about DIYs and didn’t really know how to build or fix much of anything. I probably didn’t either, but I thought I did…

I met my husband in September of 1978…I was a freshman in college and he was a big man on campus senior…there were a lot of things that we shared in terms of common interests, but not everything.

Let’s just say we grew up in two very different worlds…suburban St. Louis vs. middle of nowhere Nome, Alaska. Malls vs. Catalogs. Style vs. Necessity. Trees vs. Tundra. Hot Humidity vs. Frozen Precipitation. Fresh Fruit and Vegetables vs. Canned Everything.

How we hit it off is kind of still a mystery, since he thought clothing should only be blue and brown, and well…I love colors…all of them.

When we met, he looked just a little bit like Napolean Dynamite…

The ORIGINAL Napoleon Dynamite…

Tundra Man…note the cool dude shades and the super wide diy leather watch band…stylin’ Nome style

But after we had been dating for awhile, things changed a little bit…and after almost two years, we successfully added TAN into his color scheme…And when we got married, well…the afro was significantly reduced in size, but not totally gone…

Wedding Day…new shades, new hair, new watch…mustache…yep

By the time we got married, he figured out that he really looked a lot better (not that he CARED) in the clothes I picked out, and he really didn’t enjoy buying his own clothes…(chuckling)…the floodgates of color opened…eventually adding in GRAY!

Little by little, colors became no big deal and we started working on patterns … colors were, and are, still a bit of a problem because he doesn’t understand that all blues cannot go together, nor should he EVER concoct his own outfit unless it was previously combined by ME…we still experience the major fail from time to time…

But now, he usually has hair that is sort of tame…although the afro returns fast if the hair gets too long…his glasses are not huge anymore…nor are they shaded…and when he wears a watch, it is a normal watch that is bought at a store…the whole sock issue is still problematic as he really likes his white-over-the calf athletic socks…

But I threw them away…hehehehe…

Before and After…what a handsome job on my first real DIY…

And he even smiles while he works…

I sure love this guy!

Sew…Curly Top Turned 3…

Yep, made her tutu 😉

Can you believe it? That crazy, twirly-tomboy girlie whirlwind is now three years old. I am still trying to recover from her birthday.

You see, her mother likes BIG birthdays on the odd numbered years…for some reason my daughter has an aversion to even numbers. But she is absolutely in love with prime numbers.

So, Curly Top’s mama had some big ideas for this child’s birthday. Most of them involved me, my sewing machines, all my time and creativity for about two weeks.

Right before Valentine’s Day…

Problem. I was already making my little cherubs special pillows for Valentine’s Day…

You see, I like to do random little things that are somewhat unexpected (oops, that is mildly redundant), and I was trying to perfect my pillow-making, so they each got one that was specifically geared toward their room colors and interests…sort of.

What little boy doesn’t love Lightning McQueen?

Bubba is really into Cars. Actually all the boys seem to like Cars…probably why they fight over Mater the Tow Truck and Lightning McQueen’s bright red car…

But even better is the screaming that takes place between Bubba and Curly Top when all the children are suppose to hail her as Queen and Bubba chimes in with his “I’m Lightning McQueen!” which is met with “No! I am the Queen!” and it just loops around over and over and over and over…

Are you a morning person? Or a night person?

And who could forget about Vesuvius? That Irish-Italian spitfire who cannot be adequately impersonated by a mere portion of the day–NO–for HIM the song “Night and Day, You are the One” comes to mind. He begins my child care day with his big grin (usually) and draws it to a close.

He shines like moon and stars and streams light…or maybe I should say ‘screams’ light…he is the most vocal child in my care.

Then there are the little girls…Australia and Cookie. One is graduating to preschool at the end of this school year, and the other is just this tiny wisp of a child. Australia loves purple. Also pink. So what could be more perfect for this little girl???

Sweetness with a vintage button…

 

 

 

 

Cookie has a room that is shades of pinks and blues…she is the prize of her family…you know, first granddaughter and all, I know you understand…I make fun of her dad all the time…slightly over-protective and all. And tonight…she is taking her first swim lesson. She just took her first steps over the weekend. Soooooo….

A rose is a rose is a rose…

So I managed to get these all finished in time for Valentine’s Day, but then there was Curly Top and her birthday…ugh…

I owed her a quilt for her big girl bed. The fabric had been sitting around. I started with the squares right before Christmas, but I was sick for so many weeks and just couldn’t get to the quilt.

Even though the daughter of MINE nagged me about it…like every 10 minutes.

So…I got cracking. And I finished it. Not only the quilt, but just look and see…

Pillow case, Throw Pillow and Quilt

Once I got the quilt finished, I decided to make a matching pillow case. I had already given the little pillow to her for Valentine’s Day.

I was pleased…she was pleased…and even the mama was happy. But her parting question to me was when was I planning to make HER a quilt?

Suddenly, I am feeling a little tired…

 

 

 

Hoarders…

My daughter says I have a problem.

I say she is wrong.

She says the first stage is denying there’s a problem.

I say she doesn’t have a clue.

You see…I love fabric. Especially vintage fabric. I don’t think there are many fabrics that I can’t imagine doing something with that will tickle my fancy.

Isn’t this pretty?

What I don’t seem to have in excess is free time. Actually, I don’t think I have had any since my first grandchild was born, and he is almost seven.

So my fabric has been holed up. Some of it hasn’t seen the light of day for a good many years.

Until recently…

Redwork panels done by my grandmother…

My father was going through my grandmother’s hope chest and came across a number of quilt squares of redwork that she had done as a child. If you look really closely, you can see her tracing lines that were done by hand.

I wish I knew how old she was when she did these…it would just add to the beauty of their history.

I decided the time had come to use some of my precious hoard of fabric to do something with these…

You must understand that while I LOVE to sew, I am self-taught. That does bring to mind the question of exactly how much I can teach myself…Let’s just say that the things that I am confident doing are the things I like to do the most, and that variations on that theme take me a little further in my skills.

But I don’t do zippers. Nope. Not a bit. And I really would like to learn. One of these days.

I started pulling out my beautifully organized tubs of fabric…color-coded in clear containers, stacked like a rainbow on a huge storage shelf in my “craft” room. I basically just store my stuff in there and pull it out to the dining room when it is time to work…

My daughter hates it…

The first thing I made turned out to be my favorite.

My favorite month…

I was born in February…just barely…on Leap Day…Last year I became a teen;)! And, of course, Valentine’s Day is in February. And so is Curly Top’s birthday. So much fun going on, so I took some time making this pillow for me. Kind of like a birthday gift to myself.

Some of these fabrics were bought sight unseen on Ebay. They carry a pretty good assortment of vintage and retro fabrics, and since I hold onto my fabrics until the right idea pops into my head…well, if the colors aren’t perfect, eventually I will find a great match and make it into something.

I had a lot of fun using up some remnants that I got for about a quarter…

Looks just like my dogs…Joe Bear, Dia and Belle

I love birds…

My gardening moved indoors…

Some of these fabrics are so old I don’t even remember where or when I got them.

But I do know about the white chenille on the February pillow…When I hemmed my grandmother’s bedspread for her about twenty years ago, I saved the portion that had been cut off…

See?

Grandma’s old bedspread and Grandma’s old redwork…these mean a lot to me…

So…when my daughter starts calling me “hoarder” and threatening an intervention, I believe I will take her by the hand and drag her to my room so I can remind her about the good things that come to those that wait…

Dancing Eyes, Prepare to Meet Your Maker…

Remember that blog post about finally finishing my first crochet project? The one that took about 8 years to complete?

Remember how I stated I was already beginning my next project, that it was for an as yet unborn baby? And that it would be completed WITHOUT FAIL before the baby’s due date?

I bought the most beautiful, silky yarn. Probably too silky for my level of expertise (or lack thereof)…but it was so pretty and soft, and seemed just perfect for a newborn.

Isn’t it so pretty and silky?

I jumped in right away…I wanted to get it finished before Thanksgiving so I could start some other projects, and I didn’t want it to be sitting around wondering its ultimate fate. You know, like the 8 year afghan…

The problem I discovered with this yarn was how slippery it was to crochet…stitch after stitch, and it never looked like I was making any progress. I was 4 skeins into the project yesterday. That’s roughly three weeks of work…with me steadily working each day. I had to buy more yarn because I could tell it would never be enough to cover a baby.

Pretty, but doesn’t look very big, does it?

So yesterday I sat on the couch…crocheting away. Dancing Eyes was cutting paper. How he manages to scale cabinets is truly amazing…all in search of scissors. I looked up to see him cutting paper in front of me. I took the scissors and put them in my basket and continued with my project.

About five minutes later, I had to turn it around for the next row…GASP!!!

There was a HOLE about 4 inches in diameter…loops laying on the floor. Apparently Dancing Eyes had managed to snip the loops while cutting his paper and neither one of us knew it had happened.

I was ready to send the little guy up to meet his Heavenly Father right on the spot. The hole was such that it would be no easy repair, even for someone who is experienced. Trust me when I say that I do NOT have the requisite skills for undertaking that repair. I considered that justifiable homicide might be in order.

Yes, I do still love him 🙂

My Facebook friends offered their condolences and suggestions. Some were a little concerned for the fate of the perp…Not to worry…

After dinner, I was researching methods of repairing holes in crochet…and I decided that even if I couldn’t make a neat patch, I would just finish it off, practice stitches on it and use it here for the little babies I watch every day.

Not a very pretty repair, is it?

While I was working on the hole, Dancing Eyes came over and watched me.

“I’m sorry I made the hole in the blanket,” he said in his little happy but somber voice.

“I forgive you,” I replied.

“I forgive you too, Nana.”

Now I was a little confused about this, so I asked, “You forgive me for what?”

“I forgive you for being sad about the blanket,” was his very honest reply.

Hmmmm, that was interesting to think about. Me being sad was hard for him and probably made him feel even worse.

I was thinking about the attribute of mercy. There were so many references regarding God’s mercy toward us on Sunday morning, and here it was Monday evening and I was in a situation that was requiring mercy. Instead of judgment, there was mercy and forgiveness for my little buddy.

Extending that mercy didn’t mean that I “forgot” about the hole and all that work down the drain. It also didn’t mean that the hole never happened. What it meant is that my little Dancing Eyes did not have to bear the penalty of making that hole. I did not punish him or “send him to meet his Maker.”

In a more perfect example, God didn’t and doesn’t hold me in judgment for my sins but extends His mercy to me. How hard could it be for me to share that same mercy with my little guy?

But God goes so much further in His mercy…He says that my sins have been cast into the depths of the sea. That He no longer remembers my sin, nor holds it against me. His mercy is COMPLETE. Full. And FREE to me. It was at great price for His Son, Jesus. A sacrifice that cannot be measured in human terms.

Buried in the deepest sea,
Yes that’s good enough for me!

He has extended to us all that magnificent gift of mercy…not giving what is deserved. He has also blessed us even further with His gifts of grace and love. Undeserved blessings, so freely given to all who would believe. Forgiveness. Life. Peace. All these flow outward from His original sacrificial gift of mercy.

That baby quilt will mean an awful lot more to me now with its patched hole than a perfectly crocheted blanket ever could. Like the scars that my Savior still carries in His body, that patch will be a reminder of mercy, love and grace.

Have YOU experienced that peace that results from God’s gift of mercy for you?

Ephesians 2:4-9

But God, being rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us,  even when we were dead in our transgressions, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved), and raised us up with Him, and seated us with Him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus,  so that in the ages to come He might show the surpassing riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.  For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God;

Finally!

My daughter taught me to crochet about eight years ago. At the time, we lived in a condo, with a really pretty cottage-country bedroom. The quilt on the bed was very nice, one of those mass produced supposed to look handmade patchwork quilts.

It actually was quilted, pieced and all, just not that unique, but I really liked it. So I decided what we really needed to add the finishing touch to a really sweet room was an afghan laying at the foot of the bed.

So my NellyBelle taught me how to single crochet. If you read my last blog post you will remember my past as a perfectionist. When I began the afghan, I didn’t understand that the tighter the stitches, the harder it would be, the longer it would take and the more yarn it would need to fit my queen-sized bed.

And the first several rows of stitches have no spaces between them. NO AIR and NO LIGHT. Perfect if you live in Antarctica. I do not. I live in the swanky, humid, confused weather-patterned Midwest.

See those lovely, perfectionist stitches?
Clearly PRE-grandchildren…;)

We moved out of the condo. The lovely quilt became the guest room quilt and eventually fell apart. I experimented with many new color schemes, and eventually found the afghan in all its unfinished mess. I did a few rows and eased up on the stitches. It went a little faster, but I just couldn’t quite get the hang of the whole turning part. Or how to knot the skeins together when one ran out.

Starting to loosen up a little by this point…

I realized at some point that I really didn’t have time to finish it, so it got buried in a closet somewhere. Life has a funny way of forcing the readjusting of priorities and projects. No more of that Urgent-Important, Urgent-Unimportant, Not Urgent-Important or Not Urgent-Not Important quadrant stuff for making good use of time. Not in Nana Land, anyway.

NellyBelle has since married, finished her residency, had a baby, bought a house and made her own toys for her little guy. My afghan was still a sorry mess.

Meanwhile, Superman and I decided to dedicate a room to my sewing and crafting and dreaming and writing. While emptying out the entire room and closet, Superman found the incomplete afghan project. I decided it was way past due on finishing this thing. I had too much time invested in the crazy thing to just throw it away, and I wanted to at least finish it and be done. I attacked that afghan with gusto.

I loosened up on the stitches, and it actually made the afghan “feel” better–not so hot or heavy. I considered turning it into a dress, but realized I would be one long lasting hot flash, and the world is just not ready for that. Talk about global warming! (Now that I think about it, I think that global warming could almost certainly be attributed to how much longer women are living and how many hot flashes we are all contributing to the atmosphere. Maybe the scientists could come up with a healthy solution for that??? Like, TODAY?!?!?!)

Digressing…anyway, in the last three weeks, I have tackled the turning problems and the loose stitches, and how to join the yarn AND made up a finishing edge that doesn’t look bad. All things considered. I don’t know if it is even a legitimate stitch, but if it wasn’t before, it is NOW!

Don’t you just love the way I tripled the stitches to edge the thing?

So now I have an orange/brown/blue/cream bedroom. My living room is grey/green/blue/cream and the afghan is lavender/periwinkle/green/dk green/cream. Hmmmmm…

I think I am ready to start a SMALLER project now…

Don’t tell her, but I am giving it to my mom. She thought it was so pretty when she saw me working on it, and it will be just perfect for her when she gets a little chilly. I even made sure the loosened stitches wouldn’t let the toes sneak through. And my dad? Well, he can’t appreciate the colors but I would imagine she will share it with him too…

Contrasting the old on the right with the new on the left…sigh…so glad it is finally finished!

Being Annoyed

I am annoyed.

My husband is stuck in Seattle trying to find a way home, but keeps getting bumped off flights. It is the price you pay when flying on a non-revenue fare. He had a lovely week with his mother and some of the family, but I must confess I was bummed that he was going on this trip.

I know. I’m selfish. I wanted him here. With me. Sharing my daily annoyances.

It isn’t always easy living in a small house that has a lot of messy little people running around. It gets even harder when the mommy of these little people gets strep throat along with a couple of the kids. That means that Nana has a little more to do. And without Papa here…sigh…let’s just say none of us have been very happy the last several days.

Poor Stephanie got so sick with strep, she was puking her guts out. She does that a lot. Little Dancing Eyes was so pathetic. It wasn’t enough that he got strep throat, oh no. He had to get the scarlet fever variety. Just like his mommy did when she was a little girl.

So Dancing Eyes has been itchy and twitchy. And sneaking upstairs several nights to sleep with Nana. Well…HE slept.

Curly Top was the next one to succumb to some bug. She was the most pathetic. Fever. Achy skin. Achy arm pits. Achy little rump roast. Her clothing made her writhe. So, there she was, our naked, little, writhing mess of tousled curls going haywire. It was so sad. Especially since it was after midnight.

Yesterday was a better day. Antibiotics kicked in. The kids started fighting again. We regained a sense of normalcy. Papa was supposed to arrive in time for dinner.

Right.

He’s still in Seattle. Sleepless. Alone. Cheering up strangers that he meets and sharing the love of Jesus in Spanish with travelers. Making the best possible use of his time. He is amazing.

But I am annoyed.

My kitchen is a mess–the counters were to be installed today. The last piece of this crazy little mini-reno puzzle. No phone call to tell me the guaranteed drop-dead date was going to be a lie.

So I dutifully figured out how to turn off the water and disconnect the pipes–but thankfully hadn’t done that yet. Now the temporary boards for my counters are cleared, but I can’t find the dining room table. Ugh. This is not the way I like it, huh uh, huh uh.

But as I have been sitting here, I have been thinking about all those passages in the Bible about going through the valleys of death, of the constant and abiding presence of God throughout the trials of life. And you know what? Even in the middle of my little, minutiae-filled, mundane, pity party Debbie Downer day, He is with me. God is in the big stuff. He is even in the small stuff. If I will open that ugly part of my annoyed self to Him, I think He will happily remove that feeling of being annoyed only to be replaced with joy.

I am no longer feeling annoyed. Actually, I am feeling more hopeful because now I have the day to sort through the junk on the table and find their permanent homes. I will picture this day as my reprieve. The weather is fabulous after so many weeks of extreme heat. I will have a thankful heart.

Psalm 100

A Psalm for giving thanks.

 Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth!
²      Serve the Lord with gladness!
Come into his presence with singing!

³ Know that the Lord, he is God!
It is he who made us, and we are his;
we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.

⁴ Enter his gates with thanksgiving,
and his courts with praise!
Give thanks to him; bless his name!

⁵ For the Lord is good;
his steadfast love endures forever,
and his faithfulness to all generations.

English Standard Version (ESV)

Gold

It’s all about the gold, isn’t? Gold medals, the gold standard…we attach a lot of value to the idea of gold…

Hearts are as pure as gold, silence is golden…

Women are accused of being gold-diggers…

Someone who is effective in making things happen is said to have the Midas touch…

So and so is “golden”…

Gold Medal flour…

Rod Blagojevich, former governor of Illinois, thought his position was golden because he would be able to sell President-elect Obama’s vacated Senate seat…and that cost him a lot more than a bag of gold!

The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow guarded by a lucky leprechaun…

Given the current events of the 2012 Summer Olympics in London, I thought I should put forth my best effort in recognizing an amazing unsung hero…

I am awarding this gold medal as a shared award–kind of like a team award. This gold medal recognizes someone willingly taking full advantage of new opportunities for personal development–above and beyond their natural skill or interest. I can honestly say that this person has proven repeatedly that it has nothing to do with his personal interests or needs, but rather those of his behind the scenes partner.

Many years ago, this individual left his humble hut behind and attacked with gusto many new and uncharted projects that would have escaped him were it not for the impetus behind all those uncharted projects. He developed a love of digging up plants and moving them to other yet-to-be-dug holes. He discovered new ways of getting brand new clothing ruined by dirt and grime faster than anyone in history. He never met a paint brush he couldn’t leave without layers of clear-cut evidence of the history of his handiwork.

He has graduated from building plywood crates to ship appliances overseas to mastering multiple kitchen projects, even an entire basement. Becoming well-versed in load-bearing walls and their removal, he has come to expect a wall to come down in every home he has bought.

He is a painter extraordinaire, whipping out his paint gear and attacking the house with colors he can’t even pronounce, repeatedly.

There is only one remaining medal event for him–tree removal–but he is ineligible to compete in that event due to his past experience involving a ladder, a tree and a chainsaw. Because of his serious violations, he is forever forbidden from competing in this event.

So it is with great pride that I award the Gold Medal for Outstanding Taker of New Opportunities to my own husband, Superman. I joyfully share that award with him as the impetus behind those repeated opportunities to extend his knowledge and skill in areas for which he has no natural interest. Please stand and join me for the playing of our National Anthem.

I’m still here…

I know you are all wondering, even holding your breath wondering where I am???  Let’s just say that for a few days, I’ve been distracted by the creeping contents of my kitchen as it slowly took over the dining room and then the living room. Not only that, but the ever-increasing and annoying layer of drywall dust covering every. single. thing. And I don’t just mean that the layer of dust is limited to the kitchen. OH NO! It is EVERYWHERE. I hope it isn’t toxic, because we eat it as an additional condiment these days.

So, I am not writing as much these days because my hands are otherwise occupied. BUT, trust me, I will be regaling you all with my anecdotal evidence of the mini-remodel. I am slowly moving things back INTO the cabinets, and hope to actually have counters before August. Never fear…I’ll show you the painful pictures.

So stay tuned, and don’t forget me…I haven’t forgotten you, believe you me (as my mother is fond of saying!) 🙂 I’ll be back (as the Arnold would say.)

The Mini-Remodel Could Just Kill Me

We are in the middle of a mini-kitchen remodel. I hesitate to use the word “mini” because the room has been stripped down to the studs and subfloor. The cabinets are not being replaced. Well…even that isn’t really true. Let me explain…

A few months back I blogged about needing a wall to come down so that I could see from the kitchen into the living room. In order to accomplish that, we had to remove upper cabinets and shuffle the layout. So…we removed two upper cabinets, moved some of the base cabinets, are shifting the dishwasher, stove and microwave as well as moving the refrigerator. This allows for a peninsula with room for eating. Woo hoo! It more importantly has opened up a “window” about five feet wide that has totally transformed the house. (My husband suggests putting a mat down on the opening so that I can take naps while keeping an eye on things. Ummm, no, I don’t think so.)

Check out some of these shots…

the GREAT DIVIDE

beginning to see the light of day…

Sean helps remove the old tile

Dancing Eyes gets into the action

New tile almost done…

Since these photos were shot, the floor has been fully tiled, grouted, sealed. Phew. A few outlets were relocated. Phew. The studs have been removed. Phew. The ductwork has also been relocated. Phew.

BUT…I have no sink. Well…I have a sink. I DON’T have a CONNECTED sink. Or stove. Or dishwasher. My dining room is like an eat in kitchen with only a functioning refrigerator. My bathroom is doubling as my dishwasher. Don’t think too hard about that one. I am disinfecting constantly.

I came close to complaining over the weekend. It was starting to get to me…but with three weeks of laundry piled up, I felt a little overwhelmed. A contributor to my sense of whelming over could have also included the fact that bedrooms were being shifted around to better accommodate the kids and the guinea pigs and assorted junque.

But…it’s Monday, and I have regained a portion of my sanity. The laundry is done. Dishes are caught up. First layer of drywall dust is cleaned up. Kids are happy in their new room and on their new bunk bed WITH SLIDE. The guinea piggies are getting their cage cleaned. And I don’t have a headache. I am not dying. I have not killed anyone, and my husband still loves me and has not given up on the mini-makeover. Phew.

 

P.S. My husband informed me that I complained on and off all weekend. He credits that to the headache. Hmmmm…