My People Have Found Our Color......

I think.  I'm pretty sure.  It's an Olympic color called Blackberry for the bead board.  It looks very much like navy blue.

It's very hard to get the effect of it from pictures, but here it is up against some color I-can't-remember-the-name-of-but-it-doesn't-matter-because-Lowe's-saved-it-for-me kind of a grey or blue or lilac color.  I really like whatever color that is because it looks different depending on what is around it and I plan to go with purples and grays for accent colors.  This will be the living room and hallway colors.

This color, one step up from Blackberry and called Silhouette something, is basically a pretty periwinkle blue/purple.  I got it in case I lost my nerve with the Blackberry.  You can't really tell anything from these pics.  Perhaps at some point I will at least figure out how to take pictures with the Android tablet that up unto this point has been worthless to me.  Perhaps.  I do not let myself stress about it.  I find that life in so much easier when you don't care a great deal about details like this.  Getting older has it's compensations.....

And here is the Blackberry again up against the something-something Antique Lace that was a Valspar ready to go sample.  I looked at yellows and whites for hours, unable to pick any one color that I liked.  Then the voice inside my head said "Like you would be able to tell the difference once it's on the wall........does this really matter?"  Well.  No, it did not really matter.  So I just went with what was ready and what do you know?  Pale yellow, pretty much exactly the color of butter that I was wanting for the kitchen anyway.  God Wink or the victory of apathy?  You decide.  All I know is it worked out pretty good.

Now I can get started painting the bead board so it will be ready for installation.  It makes me feel so much better to get this hurdle over with!  Now, back to fixing cracks and sanding so that our walls will be fresh and new and ready to hold beautiful, colorful paint.  My people, whoever they are, are no longer afraid of color.  At least from four feet down the wall to the floor.  One small step for me, one giant leap for my people, whoever they may be.  :D

Change of Life.....

Last fall I can remember telling one of my best friends that I had the strongest feeling something big was coming.  I get these feelings from time to time and they are always right on the money.

The other night we were reminiscing about this and marveling at all the big changes that had happened since then, and we were laughing when we looked up and noticed the boys coming home in the 1994 Dodge Caravan.  She said it was so strange to see that van driving around, and then when she got close enough to see who was in it, for there to be 2 boys who looked just alike.  "Wait till you get the dogs in there, people will be running off Main Street," was her remark.  The dogs and the boys are equally good looking, in my opinion.  I am not surprised people would stare.  :)

The 1994 Doge Caravan is now on the road!  The single most important thing this means to me is that I no longer have to go to Wal Mart, or anywhere, really.  There is always a boy more than happy to run and get whatever I have forgotten.  These are indeed good days, long in coming to us.

For the first time in 24 years, I get myself up in the morning, get myself ready, and drive off to work, by myself..  That's it.  That's all.  The first morning I left before The Grand Finale did, I kissed them both and said it was so strange to just be driving off and leaving them there.  They smiled and rolled their eyes, which is as good a reaction as I get these days, and said not to worry, that they would be fine.  They practically patted me on the head, which I tried to take gracefully.

I cried on the way down the street and decided to stop for a donut to commemorate this glorious occasion.

And it was very strange, but they were all right.  Despite my constantly checking my phone in case of emergency all day, nothing happened at all.  Four days in, it just keeps happening.  I hardly know how to act.  The second morning I showed up at work an hour early, mostly because I didn't know what else to do or where else to go.  I am seriously considering setting my alarm for 6:30 instead of 5:15 for the first time in my adult life.  Of course I'm putting it off so I don't get severely disappointed if it doesn't work out, but I am really enjoying just hitting the snooze and not worrying right now.  Every single day it feels like less pressure and more time, and I am reveling in it.

I know this is a blessing, and I am slightly ashamed that I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.  It feels simultaneously like a lack of faith and good judgement.  I 'm learning to live with it.

Other things I can learn to live with are beginning to disturb me. The kitchen that was clean and empty last weekend is now strewn with debris and we are fixing the cracks in the walls and ceilings.  I have spent almost every night this week pulling off pieces of my walls and ceilings and just flinging them to the floor, where I am not concerned about ever cleaning them up again.  That crap can easily be rolled right up when we remove the carpet, hopefully this coming weekend.  I just pull, scrape, throw, and let the chips fall where they may.  Then I leave them there and I do not care.  This is the first time in my life I have ever done anything like this and I find it lots of fun.  How often do you get this opportunity in life???  How often can you just start tearing on a thread, have it all fall apart, throw it in the floor and not care?  Not often in my life up to this point!  I have scraped knuckles and calloused fingertips, and actually had the thought that I needed a manicure, none of which are like me at all, but there you have it.  This is me, now, apparently.    I just go with the flow, where ever that takes me, and it's working out pretty good.  I guess. One thing about going with the flow is that there is no destination point known to you, which changes everything, really.  This is one lesson I have been grateful to learn.

I'm enjoying being care-free for the first time in many years.  It took me a while to recognize the feeling, so long had it been since I had felt it, but I'm settling in pretty comfortably.  My decision was reinforced last night when I got home after work to find the boys playing their Magic game of cards in the basement, where they had cleared off the table and found seats amongst the furniture piled willy-nilly all around them.  I had to move an empty wicker shelf set to even find them.  One boy was new, and had not noticed that we were remodeling upstairs.  I found this both remarkable and slightly disturbing, but put it down to teenage tunnel vision.  Either way, it looks like we can adapt to just about anything in stride.  

Lots of changes of the permanent variety are happening now.  For the first time in a very long time, I feel like the future holds new things.  Surprises.  Things will be different forever, and they will never be the same again.  We are all getting older, and we are all also getting stronger.

If you are in your 40's or older, and feel like you should start a work out routine, I can highly recommend working on your own house instead.  You will most certainly get a workout but more importantly, you will also never get bored.  Peeling away tape from a crack in your wall all the way to the bare boards has a way of getting your heart rate up that no treadmill can hold a candle to, let me tell you.  Fear of the walls of your house actually cracking all the way through can tax your system more than 100 reps on the most expensive weight machine, no matter how many bells and whistles it is endowed with.  Climbing a ladder 40 times a night will make many more muscles than simply walking for miles, and almost throwing yourself off the top of a ladder?  Because you are about to peel off a stubborn piece of tape/plaster that you've been battling and as God is your witness, you are going to get it off?  It's an adrenaline rush that has only been matched in my own life by having to track down and kill a bat in my own house.

It's also very good for your skin.  I must say that no Biore Strip can compare to the mask of sweat and plaster dust you can achieve just by sanding off mud where holes have been patched in a wall.  Do this above shoulder height for an added whammo for your floppy upper arms, and you've got a winning combination.  If I am not mistaken, this works not only as a mask but also whisks away all those downy hairs that menopause so gloriously, mysteriously and (girlfriends, I tell you) constantly bestows us with right off!  Perhaps forever!  It felt like it was from the roots, but I'll let you know.

Totally up to you, of course, but I believe there is no gym that can really compare to the experience of working on your own house.  At least I can't imagine one, and I would never want to go through these kinds of things in front of strangers.  The bang for your buck is just better served, it seems to me, the way I'm doing it.  For all the aches and pains I feel night and day, I am sitting up straighter, walking more comfortably, and my clothes are fitting more loosely.  I briefly wondered the other day if my feet my finally be shrinking a little, after the 1 1/2 sized gained after pregnancies, but I will have to wait till the swelling goes down to be sure.  My knees protest loudly but bend more than they have in years and even my hips feel less jiggly.  

Not only am I living with all these changes, but I have worked my way up to staying up until midnight and not turning into a zombie.  The first week was shaky, but I think I've got it now.  It's been 10 years since my mother passed, and it feels like the fog of grief has finally burned away and left me with a nice summer day.  I think I've been depressed, hiding, waiting, not caring if things went on because there was nothing I could do about them anyway.  For a girl who always, and I do mean always, grabs the bull of life by the horns, this has been a long time coming.  I can procrastinate with the best of them, it must be said, but when the rubber meets the road I have always been able to count on being in the car, usually driving.  One reason I was able to get out of bed and on with it is because I didn't want my mother to see me this way.  It would not make her proud, it would make her sad, and I could not have that.  I am reassured now, to feel that I've still got it, that I am still me inside here, even if my heart is broken.

Life breaks us all, sooner or later.  Sometimes it takes a while to summon the energy to actively participate, and it is absolutely frightening how easily you can phone it in and the world will let you slide.  My dear Pretend Grandbaby and Bonus Daughter came along right in time.  Without them I don't know how long I would have stayed there, in that quiet place where nothing really happened.  Abigail got me up just by being born, and I thank God for it.  Never underestimate the power of helpless things, for it cannot be measured in reality.

I'm still proud and happy that I never took the pills.  What pills?  The magic pills that are readily and proliferously offered to you for the slightest of complaints from every direction these days, of course, especially if you still watch television!   That all these magic pills can guarantee is profits for lawyers during future lawsuits is something you will also see commercials on.  Even if you only pay attention to these types of commercials for 3 years, you will see evidence of this that cannot possibly be denied.  Think it over.

Maybe you should just get out of bed and discipline yourself and do what God has put in front of you, whether you like it or not.  No whining.  In other words, suck it up, buttercup.  If this sounds like your mother, well, you must have had a good one.  :)  Choose to have a little faith.  That's what I did.  Life will sometimes suck, and that's a fact, and there is nothing to be done about it but just go on.  Choose to go on strong, not by being addicted to some drug or suffering untold side effects for the rest of your life.  No one is perfect, everyone goes through hard times, and the world went on just fine for millions of years without magic pills or lawsuits.  You can, too.    

The boys (who will soon be men) are getting out of their comfortable kid routine.  I am not going to be the one to tell them that their last summer of laying around being lazy kids is in the past, but it is.  They will figure this out soon enough, as they seek jobs in order to pay their own insurance for the 1994 Dodge Caravan.  I'll always be a mother, but my babies are almost 17 years old, and in this house, kids are still considered adults at 18.  Any 18 year old worth their oats is ready for the challenge, anyway, to say the least.

Soon, I will be a grandmother.  This new chapter will happily start with a newly remodeled house, gained by my own hard work, and I am not just talking about work of the physical variety.  With any luck my calloused hands will be soft in time to touch that sweet baby skin.  Oh, the time grows short and I anticipate this new arrival several times every day.  It has been a very long time since I have looked forward to anything, and I cannot imagine anything better than this.

Another chapter of our lives is over forever, and I am pretty sure I 'm the only one who knows it at this point.  But that's okay, I've survived this chapter before.  Twice.  I am ready, and I know that whatever changes continue to come, we will meet them just like we do everything else, no matter how hard they are or how long they take, we will continue forward and do things right, whatever sacrifices that might entail.

Now, back to getting ready to paint.  Still haven't decided on colors.  I've been too busy explaining to the boys that the reason it's taking so long is directly related to the amount of time we all put in.  This is not complicated but what do you expect from boys who don't even mind weaving around through randomly placed furniture everywhere just to find a chair to sit in?  Onward we go, with me praying that nothing worse than the cracks in walls are discovered before we get this done.  I need the rest, and frankly, I've earned it.

The Point of No Return......

Here is the last picture of how the kitchen used to look......in the past.

We may have still had a chance to turn back at this point, but we are beyond that option now.

I spent all weekend packing it up, getting rid of stuff, and making piles of stuff to keep, in order of importance.

In a fit of ruthless sorting, I just threw the kitchen curtains away!

I should have done it years ago but just hadn't gotten around to it.

Check that off the list.

And now all the stuff I sorted in order of importance has been carried to the basement and put haphazardly who-knows-where.  So I guess I will get a chance to second guess my values at some point in the future.

I am already thinking of that time as the "digging out" phase.

How the kitchen used to look.  Goodbye forever kitchen.  It's been......real.

Last night, frustrated with the lack of enthusiasm that immediate, visual results always give us, we decided to mix it up a bit.

The cabinets are all plastic-ed off, taking away our access to regular forks, plates, glasses, etc.

The kitchen was pretty empty and bare.

So what did we decide to do?

Well.........

Running a chalk line where we want to cut.

We decided to get rid of about half the wall separating the kitchen and living room--that's what!

This was not a fast process, as we were learning as we went.

But next time it will be much faster.

Score those lines.  Make them deeper.  Deeper than that.  OK, now go over it again.  Harder.....

The Grand Finale wondered if we should be doing this, probably because they have learned to recognize anything classified as more work right off the bat.

What did we have to lose but gaming time and sleep, respectively?

We forged ahead, as we are wont to do.

A luck would have it, is a load-bearing wall.

Me and my shaaaaaaaaa-dow, going blindly forward, come what may.

This means we have to leave the studs OR put in a header across the top to support the weight.

The weight of the house.  Yikes.

I opted to just leave the studs in.

Why?  Because I'm tired, mostly, because I don't want to cause problems with the roof, but also because there was no where to go but up.  Remember?

Even with the studs still there, it will be better than it was before..  No point in going straight to the top.  Up is enough for me.  I like that about me.

Not fast--but the results are electrifying. *Not literally*

"I will sand them down and paint them", I said.  

"We can put shelves in, hang crystals from the top. ...or something," said I.

The Angel made the argument that to do it "right", we should put in a header and take out the studs.

By now it was getting late and I pointed out all the extra time, expense and general pain and agony this would include.

We agreed the studs could be fine, what with all the extra air and light, and we can always do more later.

*Like that will ever happen*

(Friends just know this stuff.  It does not have to be spoken aloud.)

Since it is obvious by looking at our walls that there are people who like to punch holes in sheet rock, The Angel designated a time for us to get this our of our systems.

I'm not naming any names, but I am certainly hoping we got this out of our systems.

Put yer money where your mouth is, boy.

Oddly, they were hesitant to punch through, on purpose, so to speak.

"But I'm not mad.....now"

They soon got into the spirit, though.  One of the most important things they have learned with The Angel, and all boys need someone in their lives to teach them this, and I believe it needs to be a man, is not to be afraid to get in there and do something.  Especially when you have the self confidence to know that even if you mess things up, and you will, that's okay.  You can also fix it.

You will make mistakes, but that's okay, you can fix them.

This is a lesson that really cannot be learned to early, in my opinion.

Not to mention, if you are aware of the time and effort it will take to "fix" whatever it is, it *may* deter you from making mistakes more than once.  It also *may* not, but that is up to you, isn't it?  As the Master of your own Destiny, it's all up to you.  Think it over and decide, then do what  you think is best, knowing that you will be held accountable for it and you will also be responsible for making it right.

This is life.

Soon the first side looked like this.

Living room side done.  Neatly.

Once we knew where the wires were, we were ready to start on the other side.

This entailed getting my spice and "goodie" cabinet off the wall and moving a counter.

Which would have been fine except that I had already packed away all the extra Wal Mart bags and couldn't find them, so we had to cover what's left of the kitchen table with all my spices, baking supplies, cake mixes, chocolate in assorted forms, etc.

And I thought I'd thought of everything!

This is how my life goes all the time.

I just consider it a learning experience that never stops.

In for a penny, in for a pound--it's our motto.  I believe this often happens with the realization of the  birth of twins, but I could be wrong about that.  See the intercom system just hanging there?  I DID THAT.  IF you have never torn something out of your house I think you will enjoy it a lot.

I even had some fun walking around and pointing at stuff and saying things like "Okay, 1970's intercom system:  GONE."  "Cabinet-over there." *Pointing*

And it happened.

I did not look back or feel any regrets, but then that's not really ever been my thing either.  I've also gotten very good at it, but then I've had a lot of practice.

All I did was make a mental note to get some more bags for the Shop Vac, which I love dearly.  Did you know they are not any more expensive than vacuum cleaners?

Not to mention, much more versatile?  Fun fact.

Soon I could see light through the (straight, neat) cut in the sheet rock on the kitchen side.

The light at the end of the tunnel has been found.

Then it became a kind of race, which with twins, is par for the course.

Almost there!

Since they had done the first side so neatly, they got to knock the whole other side out.
It was fun.

And that, my friends, is how it is done.

The boys also found renewed energy once they could see the end of this journey in sight.

They sawed faster AND did not hit any wires that would have electrocuted them.

WIN-WIN!!

Then, drumroll..............

Ta-DA!!!!

It was open.  It was light.  Air moved through.

And my oldest baby said "I feel like I can breathe better now."

Which was totally an illusion, because dust was everywhere.

However, we all felt the same way.

Illusion or not, it was much better this way.

After that, we decided to make it bigger.

Because that's just what we do.  

We fly by the seats of our pants, and we do it well!  If I ever get questioned on this method, I just refer to it as a "lifestyle choice" and that seems to be acceptable.  *wink wink*  No one can question anything called a "lifestyle choice" now.  Well, they can, they just no longer have the nerve.

Amateurs.....*dissolves into giggles at the insanity that now passes for real life*

We decided on this size, minus the last space on the left because we have wires.  Wires which we now have to cover up but we know how and it will be easy.  No sweat.

Wires are good as long as you don't cut them, which we did not.  Sorry I keep mentioning this but it is an opportunity I am taking to thank God once again that we all survived.  I tell myself things will be fine, and I remind myself that we do have insurance and even an emergency room, but you know.......I still stay prepared in case of ........unexpected results.

The way the kitchen will be from here to eternity, probably.

So now we return to the really dirty work of scraping and sanding.

Okay, that was a lie.
 We have to start that again, as we have been lazy and dragging our feet.

Still.  Tonight it is back to it, the last of the ugly stuff.

Well, that and finding where we put the plastic forks, plates, glasses, etc.

The adventure continues......as does The Grand Finale's education, which is getting to be quite impressive.  If you are into real men who know how to work with their hands and do it right.  
That is also a lifestyle choice.  One I make consistently.  I highly recommend it, but as always, you are free to make your own decisions.
Good to keep that in mind these days.

Sweet Life......

I hope you had a great mother's day!  I have spent the entire weekend going through and making piles.  A lot of stuff got pitched.

But I made progress and watched old movies.  I have yet to take a shower today, but it's been a great day.

I think we have unrealistic expectations of what make great days.

Or maybe that's just me.

If that made you think, it might be you too.

Plastic up and ready to scrape the ceilings in the kitchen.

Though my house looks like this and I'm going to have to put the coffee pot in my bedroom for the foreseeable future.......despite the fact that my sugar and flour and CDs are packed into a tub with some plastic plates and cups..........I had a great day.

I worked, which has been hard on me but good for me.

I got my house in order, so to speak.

And I listened to some of my favorite mellow songs in the world.

I sang.  Jack sang too.

And it occurred to me that I have a sweet life, all things considered.

I am grateful for it.

So here is one of my favorite songs, going out to my own Rock Star and Rockette, during this lovely time in their sweet life.

I am putting it here because I know they will see it in time to dance in their own house that is sweetly and phenomenally prepared for our Charli-girl.  Before things get........hectic.

Dance.

Consciously make a lovely memory to remember always.

Count your blessings.

Listen to your mother.

This one's on your old mom, who *may* be the world's leading DJ when it comes to soft rock love songs.

:D

Nobody ever did it better than Paul Davis.  Nobody.

This Is A Test.....

A test of my strength, I say.  One third of the way through with this project finds the living room and hallway ready for mud to be blown upon the scraped and sanded ceilings.  The walls are ready for paint once the ceiling mud gets done.  I say one third because I'm counting both demolitions as a third each and the "new" part, painting and putting down new flooring as one.  Because I think believe it will be so much easier I won't mind it at all.  I need to believe this.  Do not bring me down.  Not at this point.  I beg of you!

So we decided the smart thing would be to just go ahead and get all the dirty stuff over with.  Which is why tonight finds me throwing everything I don't really, really need in boxes and storing it in the garage for the duration.  By "duration" I am unclear on whether I mean the duration of this project or the duration of my life. I am not washing any of it. I am in no mood for that now.  I am  Just stuffing it in boxes and getting it out. \

I've been so tired I told them at work that I was pretty sure I was approaching zombie-hood.  It's like my life is exploding, which normally I can handle.  But it's happening on all fronts and I'm behind everywhere, and I can't find anything but my tools, my purse, and the bills.  That's it!

My car has been recalled for a starter, which GM (whatever THAT means now) was kind enough to send me a letter.  It said to call a dealer.  So I called a dealer, and now it will take several weeks to get the parts.  That would work perfectly for me because I really don't have time to deal with this anyway, except this means that I have to keep the papers in my purse and they are getting frayed.  And I'm afraid I'll lose them too.  I used to be organized.  At least I used to believe I was organized.  My perception of reality is being revised.

All this being up past 8 pm is very hard on me.  Last night I went to sleep at 6 pm.  Seriously!  Yeah, I woke up about 7:30 but only because I sensed someone on my porch.  Turns out, I can sleep through the
Angel coming into my house, talking to my dogs, yelling downstairs for the boys, and then sanding quietly for I-know-not-how-long while I sleep like the dead.  I guess I really needed the sleep!  Oh well. I think they were all just normal sounds.  I only wake up when something different happens because I am a well trained machine, but only when it's necessary.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Welcome to my crazy life.  Don't take off your shoes.  Really.  It is for your own safety that I say this.

And yes, that is a piano in my kitchen.  Don't ask.  Not that those of you whom have ever moved a piano would.  

I assume that later, when everything is new and clean and.......blank, and I can again lift my arms and find the dish soap and stuff, I will find renewed strength for duties such as these.  I believe.  I can pass this test.  I think I can, I think I can.

If not, I guess the kids will have to go through it when I die.  This seems perfectly fair to me because if it weren't for them, I wouldn't have all this stuff anyway.  Which reminds me, Rockette, I have a lot more room in the garage for storage than it looks like.  Luckily, I have kept my box cutter safe and now need to go put it to good use getting rid of empty boxes stored here for safe keeping by our own Rock Star.  Say goodbye to those empty boxes for drum kits and GPS systems, Rock Star.  Unless you show up very soon to plead for their lives, they are ending their time on this earth.  It's not too late if you pick up the phone right now, but the best you are going to do is to have them safe and filled with the debris that's been hanging on the fridge for the last several years.  Or cake plates.  I have, like, 6 of those suckers and I know for a fact that I just took the magnet of you in kindergarten off the fridge.  It could be much worse......you should know that I even got rid of those empty jars I was saving for pinterest projects.  ( I can hear various women friends of mine moaning and wondering if I still have them right now.  Can't you?)  Hurry on over, girls.  I've got stuff everywhere I would just love to send home with you.

Onward.  Tomorrow we will don our trusty trash bags and filter masks and reduce our kitchen to a blank, if not a clean, slate.  That popcorn is not going to scrap and sand itself!  I am quite excited with my new shop vac.  I carefully dust it off every night after I sweep the floor with it 3 times.  Or so.

And to all the mother's out there, Happy Mother's Day!!  Whether you are one or have one, or both, I hope you have a most blessed day and weekend.

Demolition Phase II

Tonight we scraped the popcorn/glitter ceiling and started tearing out bad places in the drywall for repair.

This is my demolition outfit.  I knew enough to wear a hoodie but only after starting to scrape did I add the safety glasses and bandanna.  I was like a ceiling scraping ninja, I tell you, and then we took turns.  It didn't take that long, but the dust.......remember in my dream home I had a removable roof?  This is one of those times then it would really come in handy.  We couldn't even figure out how to get the kitchen table out of the doors.  So not my kitchen hosts the piano, all of the flooring and the kitchen table.  We just work around it.  You can't even get into the Beautiful Redhead's room, but you can shut the door.  I continue to feel completely at ease with this state of construction.  I don't even wonder why anymore.  Just come on in.  Don't take off your shoes.  Drop a big glop of stuff on the floor?  HA!  No problem.  Just let it dry.  If we have to we can SAND it off!

I really should have bought some masks......but at least I was patriotic.

Scraping that glitter and popcorn off made me think of the sweetest 6 year old boy, who had cataracts, that I babysat when we first moved here.  He looked up and asked me if they were stars.  He had such a magical way of seeing things, and I've always had a fondness for that crappy glitter ever since, because I always thought of his little voice asking that sweet question.
Babies always liked it, also.

But enough.
Goodbye, glitter.  Thanks for the memories.  Those I will keep, you, not so much.

We continued getting everything off the walls and then we started pounding in nails and mixing up the mud.

Real men at work.
Before long the cracks in the walls and ceilings looked like this.

That is the ceiling.  It looks vaguely like Texas from this angle.

After cutting out all the cracks and HOLES in the walls, made by boys and hammers, we were ready to mud and tape.

After being filled, taped and mudded again.

The boys learned how to cut a square around the hole to be fixed.

 For some strange reason, people apparently come into our house and knock holes in our walls.  It's a mystery how this occurs, but it has happened quite a few times.  How lucky that I have boys to fix them.  Ahem.

Then they inserted a small piece of board behind the hole, which was screwed right behind the bare spot, to serve as an anchor.  Then they cut out a piece of drywall about a 1/4 of an inch smaller than the hole, and screwed that to the anchor piece behind.  From there, mud was packed into the cracks and covered with mesh tape, and then covered again.  The cracks will take about 3 layers of the mud, with sanding in between layers.  I am recording this because according to The Angel, this is the right way to do it.  We are not going to waste the time not to do it right.

So now we are all covered in drywall dust, and I do not believe it would be an exaggeration to say we even have drywall breath.
I am buying masks tomorrow.  I may even wear two.  Not that that will help the damage done to us all today, but what can you do.  The boys acted like I was over reacting with the masks until The Angel backed me up.

I do not know why boys (or girls, they are even worse-ai yi yi.  Not that you don't still love them) of a certain age don't think their mother knows anything.  But I don't fight it.  I don't really even care anymore.  It's a phase.  It will pass!  This is not my first rodeo.  All I have to do is to arrange for men they respect to throw in a word here and there.
Thank God for Angels.
And good night.
Tomorrow is coming, and we have much more demolition and reconstruction waiting for us then.

In Which I Confront My Fear of Color........

We tore out carpet in the living room and hallway last Sunday.  I am shamed to admit it was Easter Sunday, but that is just the way things worked out.

 Real men at work again.  Man am I ever glad we all survived their early years.......

Our yard hadn't yet been mowed either.  While all the neighbors had beautiful yards and their families over to take pictures in their nice Easter clothes, we were carrying out big wads of carpet neatly duct-taped into rolls and putting it on the curb.  Then, for added fun, while the rest of the neighborhood barbecued, we swept up dirt, using the new snow shovel for a dust pan.  Sigh.  I guess we should just stand behind who are.  We can't seem to change.

We played a fun game called "name that stain" and see the gray stuff?  DIRT!  We wrote our names in it with the shop vac for fun.  I am even kind of proud to report both boys are seriously anti-carpet now.

We had a shower for Charli the Saturday before and it is just the way things worked out.  Sorry neighbors, but I think it cannot be denied that we were certainly in the spirit of re-birth.  The worst and dirtiest early stages, to be sure, but the spirit, undoubtedly!!

               

Is this going to be one lucky child or what??

On the upside, I have never been less embarrassed to invite people into my house.  I just open the door wide, smile, say "Come on in!  Everything is a mess!  Don't take off your shoes!"  I have found it freeing, to say the least.  You would be surprised how nice life is when you quit worrying about how your house looks......and smells.
Actually, I have seen big improvements in both of these areas already.

Me and my girls.  :D

So I have been trying to decide on color for the walls.  I am doing beaded board (fake, cheap, and paintable) half way up, and I am 99% certain it will be a navy blue.  The flooring is in and it will be light.  Kind of gray, kind of honey, the kind of floor that just gives a general impression and light overtone that hopefully no one will notice much at all.  It won't show dirt or dog hair and I may well do my vacuuming with a shop vac from here on out.  Durable, low maintenance, cheap yet homey: this is my goal.  How can I fail?

I was stuck between a navy blue, a dark green and a color called Dark Vermont Currant, which looked to be very deep red or brown, or even purple, depending on what it was beside at the time.  But I think I'm too scared!!  So then I told myself that while you can liberally slop paint all over the floors of plywood now, at least pick a color for the top of the walls.  So I think I did.  For the kitchen I want a soft butter yellow, which is adorable with the navy blue on bottom, and then for the living room and hallway I think I'm going with a color that is called Flying Dove, which is a little blue but really looks like another version of white unless you put the navy blue beside it, and then it looks very light blue.  It all goes together and I'm so tired of trying to decide I'm just going to do it.  Frankly, I have so much stuff that hangs on my walls I am not even sure how much of the top will show anyway.  At the end of the day, I seriously doubt anything I could possibly do will look worse than this.  I mean, come on.  Nowhere to go from here but up!

Seriously, folks, this is the TOP of my wall in the kitchen.  Can you see those stains?  Were they shooting cool aid in water guns or just water?  You decide.  I won't find out for another 6 or 7 years at least. 

This is what we are living with now and to tell you the truth, it simply does not look any worse, and it smells 100% better!!

I could have had all this done this week, easy, but I was terrified of making a choice.  I remembered when my mother was building her house, and she was talking to the wife of the man who made her cabinets.  They were Mennonites, and apparently used colors on all their walls, because she said to my mom, in discussing another house, that their "walls were white, like your people's".  We collapsed in laughter when she reported this to me.

I have been wondering ever since just who are our people, and why are we afraid of color?  I didn't know, so I called my other mother, and we spent the next 4 hours drinking coffee and comparing colors and laying out floor tiles to compare, and danged if I haven't decided now it will be the Dark Vermont Currant on the beadboard.  In a shiny kind of paint, whatever that is called.  I forgot to ask, but it doesn't matter.  That is a detail that I will worry about later, when it's time.  Right now it's time to mud some walls and throw something that goes with it on the top half of the wall before we have to worry about protecting the new floor.

What color?  "Answer cloudy, ask again later".  Ok, that's a Magic 8 Ball answer but it works, and it doesn't really matter that much, because my walls will be full of stuff anyway and it won't show that much.  In the kitchen the walls will be a soft butter yellow that matches the currant color beautifully.  It will probably be a version of gray in the living room and hall, although I did see a kind of paint that included metal that was really pretty.  I liked it but immediately started thinking of all the ways I could mess that up and figured I would spend twice as much when I had to cover it up with white after it didn't work out.  I cannot escape the realism.  I've tried.  I just cast my mind back to the hot glue burns from the handmade Christmas gifts and decided not to go there.

Nowhere to go but up.  I just keep telling myself that.  Stay tuned for improvements as they come.  I'm just going to jump in and keep going, because soon I will have a grand baby to take up my thoughts and my time.  I just can't see the color of my walls taking up a lot of my mind in the future.  I'm very thankful to admit freely that I am just not that kind of girl.  I will be the girl with the gorgeous Dark Currant Simulated Bead Board.  You know, Charli's grandma.