The Kitchen Is Done!!!!

After massive scope creep, we are done – for now! Counter tops and a back splash to follow in a few years. But I’m happy we’ve done it this way. It means we get high-quality materials each step of the way. I’m not always very patient, but with this kitchen I am.

The stove was delivered on Monday but I’ve decided not to use it until Hubby gets home tonight. He’s been out of town for the week and after 16 weeks it just felt wrong to use it with him not being here to celebrate.

(I adore the new colors on the wall. It’s dark, but the other pics make it look REALLY dark. Here’s a better image of the color)

(chair rail for the dining room).

Your Library Is Your Portrait

–Holbrook Jackson

This is the quote on the back of my business cards.

Shelves of books in my life, carefully boxed and transported from one place to another, are from my college days. From my days as a Women’s Studies major when titles such as “Lesbian Ethics” were de rigeur to my Chinese primer from the one semester of Chinese language of which I was so proud.

My bookshelf was a demonstration of my beliefs, of what I was interested in, who I was, where I’d been, where I was going. Mostly textbooks or novels or histories bought for classwork, they were the most tangible evidence of my present and my past. Chaucer. Thousands of pages on 20th century Chinese history and biography. Eighteenth century British poets. Isben.

The books were also boastful. They contained titles I’d never read and in the portrait business that’s like whitening your teeth with an air brush.

You see offices where people have a lifetime of books. I thought I was the same way. I recently realized that those college books that felt so important for so long aren’t anymore. I’m in a different phase of my life these years later, I don’t need my bookshelves to speak for me, and I don’t need to store books I’m not going to read again.

I certainly did not get rid of everything. I was an English and Women’s Studies major for good reasons and many of the books remain something I want to have nearby – a reach away. Books I want to know that I can simply walk to a shelf and pick up whenever I want to. Raymond Carver. Gloria Naylor. Katherine Philips. Ayn Rand. Three translations of the Koran.

And Stephen King and John Sandford. I weeded my recreational reading too. And I kept all the Stephen King and John Sandford.

The books that are sale-able I’m giving to local library whose friends group can see some cash from them. The “edgy” and “cool” titles I’m taking to Dawn Treader in Ann Arbor where I’ll take store credit for them. Always something interesting in Dawn Treader for someone looking to shed light on the portrait of their age.

Christmas Cookie Secret Break Down

Remember the neighbor who delivers Christmas cookies? OK, what I didn’t say is that he takes the opportunity of his yearly Christmas cookie deliveries to play Mr. FBI and grill us about how we take care of the house. It sounds funny but I swear this guy must have been a cop because it is downright intimidating when he does it and I just fold. (Besides, his wife is the only person making and delivering Christmas cookies to ME and I am not going to give that up.)

Actually, I never did tell you about him. Mainly because I spent 45 minutes sobbing after my first encounter with him. I told him we were putting up a fence and he berated me, delivering the final line: I HAVE BEEN IN YOUR HOUSE AND I HAVE SEEN YOUR STOVE AND YOU HAVE NO BUSINESS PUTTING MONEY INTO A FENCE. Fence. Fence. Fence. Fence Now. I kid you not that he actually said that. With venom.

Every time we buy anything now we joke that we hope Fred (yes, his real name) will see the delivery truck. Unfortunately, our garage/entry point for such things as appliances is on the other corner of the street from him.

In any case, when he delivers cookies he grills me about what we’ve done with the house. This year he asked if we’d intended to cut back the hydrangeas so far. He leaned in and did not smile. He said those hydrangeas were important to the look of the house. To the look of his house by extension. He had not yet handed over the cookies. I laughed and said it was an accident. I pointed out that we had cleaned up the pine trees.. “Well, some people like that” he said. To be honest? I am so frickin’ thrilled with the cookies the yearly interrogative trade off seems pretty good.

This is all a lead up to the hydrangea debacle but before I get into that I thought I should let you know it isn’t just that we messed up with the hydrangeas. WE GOT CAUGHT AT IT.

Plus, I have not yet figured out how, next Christmas, to show him my brandy new Jenn-Air stove with the 5 burners, gas top, and two electric and convection ovens. Well, it’s not installed yet. I suppose I do have time to think about it.

New Entryway

Ommm, oops

So, I come home today and my accent wall is painted.

My first thought was “it’s too orange.” Then I thought I liked it. Then I didn’t. Then I turned off all the lights and realized I liked it just fine in the dark. OK, I can take a hint, I need darker paint.

Try #2 will start later this week or next.