me and Ed bring it on home

Ready?? Ok, here we go..............

 

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Here's the old:

 

 

Here's the new:

 

 

I absolutely love it!  Light just bounces everywhere now.  I feel like my whole life got a facelift.

 

Despite appearances in this picture, we did not also bring home a headless cat.  Tybalt wanted a bath on the new rug.

Speaking of new rug.  I bought it over a year ago and put it in the basement for "someday when I finally paint the kitchen."

I'm walkin on sunshine oooohooooh I'm walkin on sunshine ooohhhh ohhhh and don't it feel good!!

 

Getting from the last post to this one was more than just a hiccup.  It rained crazy for a good 24 hours, just like was predicted.  It started with this:

 

 

He is in kindergarten and that is a very very very VERY sharp brand new hatchet.  It's tricky to tell this story without throwing his very well-meaning dad under the bus.  So suffice it to say that when I got home Saturday morning, the girls were playing upstairs, Ryan was screwing in cupboard doors, my brother-in-law was under the sink in the completely torn-up kitchen, and River literally RAN to meet me swinging his hatchet.  I not so calmly suggested that he needed supervision and training.  I invoked that Oklahoma scene where Judd Fry falls on his ax and dies.  No one seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation and River ran again to chop more sticks.  STICKS, people.  Little sticks...with a big life-threatening hatchet.  That was the moment when I lost my shit, slammed the door, and went for a drive.  I ended up in one of those falling-down-out-in-the-country cemeteries and had myself a good cry over dysfunctional families and unfinished kitchens and my horrible parenting and the complete idiocy of the republican party.  My hair also no longer looked good.  And then.  Then I realized that I'm not six feet under.  I'm precisely five feet, 11 inches above.  And that is a truly no small thing.  Kitchens, hatchets, and my cluster of a self took it down a few notches and started to breathe again.  And not long after, I got to leave and go to work with the addicts.  Which every single time, takes me down even a few notches more.

 

And side note, which really isn't a side note because it so matters....The hatchet is safely stored OUT OF REACH.

 

And now, the kitchen is done.  D.o.n.e.  And it is blissssssssssssssssssss!

 

Ryan washed bottles to inaugurate it with a homebrew bottling.

 

 

And the kids played like rockstars (sans hatchets) while I made curried carrot soup. 

 

 Peeling and slicing and dicing in my happy new sink....while Ed took us all on home.  (click on it....he'll do the same for you!)

me & ed & sarah & daniel

When you have people like these in your chaos, it's hard to stay grouchy for long...

 

 

Sarah has some kind of magical painting powers because when she held the brush, everything went three times faster and looked five times better.

 

Also, my brother-in-law is studlier than your brother-in-law.

Inch by inch, row by row.  Gonna make this kitchen FAB!!!

me & ed & menard's

This was the day I put on my big girl pants and drove this big ass truck down Kellogg Avenue in Wichita to pick up my very-own-all-the-way-from-a-warehouse-in-California butcher block countertop!

And then onto to Menard's with a list that said:

sink - white, doesn't scratch, 22x33x7.5 inches
faucet - with that giraffe neck spout
those things you put in a sink's drains
stain
hinges
knobs

This was my first time at Menard's.  One day a church or bar or psych ward is going to get smart and set up shop attached to Menard's.  You will walk through the store, make your purchases, and proceed directly to the vice of your choice.

You know how on Survivor, the players put on blindfolds and compete in challenges?  They try to do amazing feats like climb a rope and dig up a bag buried in sand and hurdle logs, and on the way, because they are blindfolded, they smack right into everything.

That's me in Menard's, except my eyes are open. 

But I found this guy:

I literally showed him my list and he made it happen.  Sink, faucet, sink drains. Boom.

I asked him to go with me to hinges, but he said he's a one-department kind of guy.  So I found this:

Hinges and knobs will wait for another day.  I couldn't decide what bra to wear this morning, which makes it seem like a bad day to choose 1 of 759 hinges and 1 of 293 knobs.

Then I stood in the stain aisle and talked on the phone to my brother-in-law (who is the one actually DOING all the countertop/sink work).  Jesus' brother came and stood beside me until I hung up. 

I know he was Jesus' brother because:
he appeared out of nowhere
he is the son of a carpenter
he was funny
he waited oh so patiently for me to finish my yammering
he made me feel like exactly 1 million dollars

He told me to buy this to finish the countertops:

And he was the icing on the cake of what turned out to be a truly magnificent Menard's experience. 

Me and Ed #2

 

 

My hair still looks good.  Just checked.

me and Ed #1

It has begun.  This kitchen is going to have white cupboards, a new sink, a new island, and butcher-block countertop.

 

If you've been here long, you know that I love to paint things. 
see the "paint me crazy" link over there ---------------------------------------------------->
You also know that mid-project, I go absolutely clinical.

The drawers and cupboard doors are sitting in the garage, primed, and I'm already looking back at those two pictures and thinking that it looked absolutely amazing and this is the worst decision of my entire life.

But I think I know it's not.  And I'm pretty sure it will be fabulous.

So.
I have compiled a list of five key talking-myself-down questions for those moments when it's so very tempting to throw myself on the ground and cry mercy....

1.  Does my hair still look good?

2.  Do I still have three hungry little mouths to cook for?

3.  Is a Democrat still president?

4.  Did I eat the recalled hummus?

5.  Am I still 29?

Tantrums beware.  You are not welcome here.  Only fun, sun, and paint!

We've got this.

Besides, if we don't, my beloved Levant still works at Sherwin Williams.  He can talk a girl down like none other.  Also, I've discovered that Ed Sheeran's music is amaaaaaaaazing.

I'll keep you posted....It's naptime and Ed and I have painting to do.

rock painting

We have been picking up rocks everywhere this summer.  Michigan beach, Colorado mountains, Kanopolis campground, at the park, walks, church, backyard....And bringing them home to paint. 

They are super into it, and will stick to it for a long time.

They seem more into doing it, and doing it well, than hanging on tightly to the finished products.  Win-win for me because we spend a hearty length of time on something fun and I don't have to find a place among all the other junk around here to keep them!  Well, ok...not junk junk...but you know what I mean.

Every time she falls in love with a new rock and gives it her attention, I'm reminded of her namesake.  Evelyn collected rocks, loved them well, and knew their stories.  My Evelyn does too!

A Big Thing

Every so often I take it upon myself to prove my mental instability by painting something.

Sherwin Williams sends out these emails that go something like this:
"Paint and all paint supplies are 40% for the next three days.  Sell us your soul.  Painting is easy and extremely fun.  Zero hard work and you will love every minute of it.  Hurry in and make the best decision of your life."
Or something like that.

Remember the Great Paint Project?  Check here: GPP Eve and GPP1 and GPP2 and GPP3

Summary:  I don't do well with change or lack of order.  At all.

I wanted to paint the trim in the playroom.  This wood stuff:

I thought it would be no big deal - like a one night and done thing.  Fun little project after the kids were in bed.  This is how Sherwin's ad brainwashes you.  So I didn't clean up the toys, check the calendar, alert Ryan....nope, just dug right in.

While I was taping, I realized this project should include the desk, doors, trim in the entry, all that too.

That right there is the moment this became The Stupidest Idea I Have Ever Had In My Entire Life.  Especially because this is a busy busy busy week with the other stuff of life, and I'm hosting a baby shower here this weekend.

deep dispair.
lots of swearing.
hopeless, endless painting
tears

But People, listen up:  This is why I preach community.  A few days before, I ran into Brittany - we grew up together a few houses apart.  She mentioned living there for a little while, looking for work and HELPING OUT WITH HER MOM'S PAINTING BUSINESS.

So I called her.  She showed up a couple of hours later and rescued me from the pit.

She brought her mad painting skills.  And bigger than that, she brought her kind way, her stories from when we were little, her patient suggestions, and her presence.

I wasn't happy when I took this picture.  I was freaking.  But I was at least breathing and moving and working and feeling a teeny bit kind.  

I do fancy things like organize conventions, produce worship services, mama my kids, and all that.  A paint project should not be a big thing, but it always turns into A Big Thing with me.  The changing and the not knowing if this will work and the things out of place everywhere stretch me to my limit.  I realize that in the scope of both big and little things going on all round us, its nothing.  Nothing. But when I'm in it, its really something for me.

But ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh we. made. it. through.  And this morning, I am one happy girl.  

Ok.

Remember this picture...

Now look!...

So there life went and once again brought to the light my new mantra:

"All things are inventions of holiness - some more rascally than others."  (Mary Oliver)

Indeed.

procrastination

FOLLOW THIS SIMPLE EQUATION...

Me 

+

 huge shitload of stuff to accomplish

+

messy house

+

so so so so so not in the mood

=

what can I do to put off doing what I should do?

THEREFORE...

procrastination 

=

chalkboard paint

+

$5.30 worth of stuff from Et Cetera

+ 

NPR

+

napping children

Oh how deeply deeply I love this paint, which is unsettlingly strange because I do not like chalk.  

The feel of it makes me chew my hair and cry for mercy.  

But when you cover cheap stuff in it, magic happens.

Well, at least to me, it was magical.  Or maybe it was just the fumes.  

When I held a paintbrush in my hand and looked longingly at the bedroom wall, I knew it was time to put down the brush and get some perspective.  12 things painted.  

Knock on my door, and I'll gladly procrastinate some more and paint you too.

yammering

This was, like most other days, without event.  And I find myself tucking the kiddos into bed, changing into my ever-faithful yoga pants, switching on the attic fan, and breathing a deep gulp of gratitude.

Bliss is...

The Buzz on his new bike watched so closely by his #1 fan.  It wasn't yet 8 am, and he was "practicing".

Bliss is also this...

Toasted crusty bread, brie, fresh berries.  Breakfast and lunch.

And this...

My favorite parts of my new favorite room in my favorite colors.

Just look at the names of those books.  The Mystery of the Chinese Junk.  Franklin W. Dixon has my kind of humor.

Anne Lamott says...

"Its always the same old problem: how to find ourselves in the great yammering of ego and tragedy and discomfort and obsession with everyone else's destinies."

Today we learned that a friend miscarried.  Miscarriages have happened to our family twice (once between each child), and I have been fortunate enough to find it physically painful but emotionally quite simple.  They have been very early and I haven't felt the deep emotional loss that some people do.  Eva heard me telling Ryan about it and I explained to her in the most basic terms what happens when someone miscarries.

Later, I overheard her telling River...

Eva: "Buzz, did you know that we had two brothers or sisters that never hatched?  They were tiny like a grain of rice."

River: "Tonya, can I have a rice krispy treat?

Ah yes....the yammering...the pain and the joy and the tragedy and the humor and the reality...

It seems that lately, the yammering has been quite loud.  Grateful am I for ordinary days like today that give space for bliss and self-finding.