I distinctly remember standing inside the kitchen company’s showroom in October as the project manager assured me, “it’ll be done well before Christmas. It’s not a very big job.”
Unless he meant Christmas 2006, we’re a bit behind schedule. But, after we lost our patience and threw a fit last week, more work seems to be getting done. The project manager promised us the project would be finished by this coming Friday. Then it was pushed to Saturday. If it can really be finished Saturday, I’ll be one happy cook. But I have learned not to hold my breath.
However, there has been progress. The most significant development happened a few weeks ago when our wonderful refrigerator was installed. I believe it may be the most beautiful refrigerator ever born:
It brings us great joy in the form of ice and cold water. The day it was installed, I bought a six pack of Lee’s favorite beer. It was the first thing to grace the shelves, as a thank you for all the painting he did so the fridge could be put in it’s proper home and removed from our dining room.
Then, work all but halted until we had our tantrum. We still don’t have a laundry room, and I’m going to buy stock in Spin City around the corner where I seem to spend a lot of time and money these days. But yesterday was a fun day, because they put in our stove. It’s not operational yet, but it’s in place. It still has the wrappings, but I can visualize how great it will be to stand in front of it and actually cook something:
While I really appreciate the stove being put in place, I am frustrated with the plumber and contractor. They had to cut off our gas yesterday to move the stove in. Strangely, last night the house just got colder and colder, and our gas heat didn’t seem to be working. We called the contractor, who called the plumber, who swore he turned the gas back on. The contractor thought we were crazy.
We spent last night under several blankets, which was fine until this morning when my alarm went off and the house was 53 degrees. I nearly called in to work frozen. We finally had to call our AC/Heating company. They charged us $79 to tell us that the gas was never turned back on. At least tonight, the house is toasty again, and the kitchen people are footing the bill.
So according to the company, our kitchen will be done in five days. Looking at the rest of the kitchen (not to mention laundry room and bathroom), I wonder if it’s possible. Tarps on the floor, cans of paint, bare drywall and topless cabinets.
But, I have hope, and some french fries to tide me over.
My role this time was different, though I was no less excited. Fortunately for Nikki and Andrew, he’s here for the birth of their second child, which meant he could be by her side in the delivery room. This time, my job was to be with Nia, the sweet angel I saw come into this world two and a half years ago when her daddy was in Iraq.
Nikki was scheduled for an induction last Tuesday, (the baby was being stubborn about leaving the womb), but when I called her on Monday, she was already contracting. By ten o’clock Monday evening, the contractions were still coming so I came on over. Nia was asleep, and soon we all decided that was a good idea, so I settled onto the comfy couch. They weren’t supposed to go to the hospital until 5:30 a.m. – which as it turns out was exactly when she needed to go anyway because she kept contracting through the night.
I slept a little longer, and Nia woke up about 8:30 in a wonderful mood. We played with all her new Christmas toys (Santa was very good to her), and my mom joined us at the house. I called Andrew. Nikki’s contractions were getting stronger and they were waiting for the epidural. I could hear in his voice the concern he had for his wife, and the feeling of helplessness that he couldn’t do anything to ease her pain. But I knew he was making the difficult task much easier by being there, holding her hand and telling her he loved her.
A few hours later, Nikki’s mom called to tell me they had taken Nikki back for a C-section. Turns out the baby was tangled up in his umbilical cord and didn’t want to let go. Can you blame him? I could hear the worry in her voice too.
But soon after, I got another call from Andrew. A much happier sounding Andrew announcing the birth of his baby boy, Nathaniel. Nikki was fine, the baby was healthy, and everyone sounded relieved and excited. I was too.
Throughout the pregnancy, they’d called the baby “Spud,” because he looked like a little potato in his first ultrasound. They didn’t find out the sex of the baby ahead of time, but apparently Nia had known all along. When she overheard me talking to my mom about Nate, she said, “Nate is Spud.” What a smartie!
After she had a nap and Nikki and Nate had a couple of hours to recover, my Mom and I took Nia to the hospital and Lee met us there. The whole way up the elevator I couldn’t help but think what a momentous occasion this was for Nia, even though she had no idea of the magnitude. She was about to meet her baby brother. The person who would be her friend (and sometimes foe) throughout life. I cherish my relationship with my brother. I hope hers will be just as special. Her life was changing in a major way, and while I know she’ll have to sacrifice some of the one-on-one time with her parents, she’s gaining a whole new member of the family. What a great thing.
When she came into the hospital room, Andrew showed her the baby. “Who’s that?” he asked her.
“Baby Ella,” she replied. Her cousin, Ella, had been born a few weeks before, and it’s easy to see how Nia could think it was baby Ella.
“No honey, that’s baby Spud,” said Andrew.
“Baby Spud!” said Nia. “I hold him!”
I had just picked Nate up. He looked so beautiful, sleeping soundly under his warm blankets. I didn’t want to let him go, but who can deny Nia anything? After all, she is the big sister. I’m just the adoring fan.
Nia crawled into Andrew’s lap, and I handed Nate to her. Then I took the above photo. She was beaming. Even though she can’t truly understand the enormity of the day, I’m sure she could feel the joy and excitment in the room.
Then I took this family photo. What a wonderful group. I’m just glad they let me in on the fun.
These days, Lee and I try to delight in any small amount of progress on our kitchen. The contractor is working painfully slowly, and I’m still spending a majority of my free time in the drive-thru lane of a fast food restaurant or at the laundromat.
However, the contractor finally finished the sheetrock, beadboard, chair rail and baseboard around the refrigerator area, pictured above. Maybe, just maybe, we’ll be able to get our refrigerator installed tomorrow or the next day… Cold water. Ice. Progress.
Lee and I couldn’t decide on a wall color for a long time, then finally chose a grayish-blue. I’m very happy with how it turned out so far against the white beadboard and the cinnamon cabinets. Most of the kitchen/laundry area still isn’t ready for painting, but at least we’re getting some color on the walls. It’s helping me visualize the finished product. What a joyous day that will be.
When we opened the door to our home yesterday, I craned my neck and around the hallway could see the edge of a cabinet. Lee and I raced to the kitchen and turned on the lights, then like kids with a new toy, we started opening all the drawers and doors while I giggled and jumped up and down. When we picked out the color, wood species and door type, it was a little hard to imagine what it would look like in our kitchen. But we are very pleased with our choices so far.
There are still a lot of things we have to keep imagining – like the tile backsplash and paint on the walls. We’d hoped to begin painting this week so we could go ahead and put the appliances in, but the sheetrock guy seems to still be taking a holiday break.
Which means it’s good news and bad news that our appliances arrived today. It’s great news because as soon as we are ready, we can slip the beautiful fridge in it’s space and start enjoying cold ice and drinks. However, It’s bad news because we aren’t ready so the fridge, stove, microwave and dishwasher have now taken over our dining room, like so:
While progress is being made on our kitchen, the rest of our house is quickly devolving into madness. A thick layer of construction dust coats everything, and boxes, tools, and supplies are stacked everywhere. It’s enough to make me crazy – until I stand on my new tile, admire my new cabinets and hardware, and dream of the finished product. It will be worth it.
I feel a little bit like the people on Extreme Home Makeover who are sent away for a week while a crew rebuilds their home. We’re headed back to Savannah tomorrow after a week away – during which workers have continued to put up sheetrock and beadboard in our kitchen. Tomorrow morning, they’ll begin hanging cabinets, and the room will really start to take shape. I’m very excited to get home and see what has been accomplished.
But unlike the TV show, the only things that seem to be extreme about our home makover are the price and the sloth-like pace of the progress. While the crews on the show (granted, they work 24 hours a day in teams of 100) can build an entire home in a week, I’m just crossing my fingers for sheetrock and beadboard.
But it’s a great sign that the cabinets are going up. Our appliances will be delivered on Thursday which means we’ll finally trade our dorm fridge for a grown-up refrigerator. With ice. Blessed, blessed ice. Once the cabinets are in, they measure for the countertops. A couple weeks of waiting, then the countertops go in and they supposedly start with the finishing touches.
I’m so excited, and soooo ready.
When Lee opened the iron gate so I could pass through, I felt like a character in a movie based on the old south. We were all dressed up, climbing the stairs of a beautiful antebellum mansion, and through the glass of the front doors, I could see the outline of someone hovering, waiting to open them.
Sure enough, a lady greeted us at the entrance, while another gentleman took our coats. The house was breathtaking, and completely overwhelming. Each room was impeccably dressed in period antiques. Candles burned on many table tops, and the light bounced off gilded mirrors and golden frames around oil paintings. The host approached, and as a good southern host, led us to the open bar where a barmaid poured us drinks.
The food table was adorned with a spectacular array of flowers that was so large the greenery brushed against the chandeleir hanging from the high ceiling. The arrangement was set in an antique urn of crystal and silver. The food was delicious.
We were invited to the house for a wedding reception. The glamorous couple wore vintage clothing that matched the sparkle of the crystal. The house belongs to the bride’s uncle. It has a name, even has a brochure.
Lee and I spent most of the evening wandering around the 1830s mansion and it’s several rooms devoted solely to Napoleon. The host and owner was a wonderfully eccentric sort who is charming and mystifying at the same time. He seemed quite at home among all the finery, with his diamond rings and genteel air.
However, I was a bit nervous. I felt like a kid in the china shop, when I’d walk around with my hands tucked into my pockets for fear of breaking something. I gripped my wine glass tightly, not wanting to be the one to soil the fine rugs.
Lee and I were talking with a friend near the food table, when I decided to sample a bit of the salmon and cheese loaf that I’d neglected to try earlier. I spread some on a cracker and took a bite. Delicious. I extended the remaining bit of cracker to Lee for him to taste, when the cracker fell from my fingertips and landed on the rug. Cheese-side down.
I picked it up and hurridely threw it away.
Despite my mishap, it was a wonderful party (and I don’t think too many people saw the whole cracker/rug thing). However, it set the bar awfully high for the next time Lee and I entertain. I don’t see us getting any genuine Napoleon artifacts anytime soon, but maybe we can work on a house brochure. That’s just cool.
Yesterday, the tilers put down cement backing board. Today, they laid out most of the tile for our new kitchen/laundry/bathroom. Tomorrow, grout. Then I plan to lie down on the cool tiles and roll around and around.
I’m so excited to see more of the kitchen coming together. There is still so much to do and living like this is quite a hassle. They ripped out our old sink and toilet in the downstairs half-bath, which means there is now no running water on the bottom floor of our house. Millie’s thirsty? Go upstairs to refill her bowl. Need to wash a utensil? Go upstairs. Need to water a plant? Go upstairs.
But my spirits are up because we have a tile floor. Hooray! I’m hoping the walls will be finished next, then the cabinets will go up. We’re going to ask our project manager if we can go ahead and order appliances once the tile is finished. A refrigerator – with ice and cold drinks! I can hardly imagine. I have to stop thinking about it or I’ll go crazy.
It’s just a pillow. A chocolate colored pillow made of soft suede sitting against the back of a living room chair. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start.
Yesterday was my birthday, and Lee got me a sewing machine, storage case, and starter kit. I’ve been wanting one for a while because I think sewing might be a fun, gratifying hobby. I started with the pillow – next I’m going to work on living room curtains. I think I’ll enjoy making things for the house, but I also think I’ll have fun making things like Halloween costumes for the dog, etc. Okay, so it took me ages to figure out how to thread the needle, wind the bobbin, etc., but that will become easy with practice.
My birthday weekend has been great. I got lots of nice phone calls, and Lee always makes sure my birthday is special. Maybe I’ll sew him something, like a lopsided pair of socks (I need more practice…)
For years, I’d been highlighting my hair blond. Finally, about a year ago, I decided the blond was washing me out and I wanted to go back to being naturally brunette. I was surprised by how much I liked the results. Not only do I like my natural color, I like not having to pay to have my hair highlighted. It’s not cheap.
But since I ceased the highlighting, I’ve noticed more and more gray hairs. I think they were gradually increasing in number for years, but were hidden by the highlighting. Now, they seem to stand out to me even more against my darker hair.
I’ve been whining about them to family members for a while, but none of them seemed to think they were really noticeable (or so they said). Not wanting to go back to dying my hair, I decided it was really not as bad as it seemed.
Today, I was standing next to a friend I hadn’t seen in a little while, when he leaned over and whispered, “You’ve got some gray in your hair.”
I guess it’s time to give in to the dye bottle. I’ll try to find something close to my natural color, but it kind of creeps me out. It’s like I’ve moved past a time in life when my hair was just fine without help. Now I have to take measures to avoid looking “older.”
The good thing is, I don’t feel old. My hair just didn’t get the memo, and that must be corrected.
“Ohhhh, you’re an angel!”
I wasn’t sure if the trick-or-treater was referring to the fact that I was shoveling large amounts of candy into her bag, or my costume. The comment was probably prompted by my wings and halo, but I know when I was younger the candy would’ve been just cause for flattery.
This is our first Halloween in our new neighborhood, and I’m almost out of candy. That’s a great problem though. We had the occasional trick-or-treater in our old hood, but not many. And most that did come by weren’t in costume. We’ve had a couple of those tonight, but most have been decked out in their ghoulish best. They also seem surprised and pleased to find an adult answering the door in costume. I’m enjoying it myself – why should they have all the fun? Sure my cheap wings are dropping glitter all over EVERYTHING, but it’s worth it.
Most of the children have been very polite, although some required prompting from parents. There were twins who came to the door just a few minutes ago, about 3 years old. The first approached, and when I put the candy in his bag his dad asked, “What do you say?”
The little boy replied, “Thank you.”
Then his brother walked forward, and as I put the candy in his bag he simply looked up at me over his pile of pixy stix and lollipops and said, “I’m so tired.”
I thought, “Well, eat some pixy stix and you’ll feel better,” but instead I just laughed and told him Happy Halloween. I’m sure he’ll be bouncing off the walls soon enough.
We’re down to 5 pieces of candy, so we’ll have to turn off the porch light soon. Next year I’ll know to buy more (and not eat so much of it myself). Meanwhile, I’m quite proud of my little pumpkin display on the front steps. Even though Halloween will be over soon, I’m hoping I can keep them out there as “fall decorations.” They’re just so festive!
