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3 kittens

Panelling of Golden Brown

Posted on 2014.08.23 at 12:24
When the family is driving me up the wall, I finally discovered the best coping strategy: go do the dishes. You get to turn your back on all the chaos, and stare out the window at some trees and birds, and you're being A Good Adult - obviously dishes need done. It's the best.

Our kitchen is set up around the laundry sink in the back of the house:

August 23, 2014 (4)

The commotion, screaming, crying and provoking each other continues, but it is behind your back.  Isn't that a nice window to gaze out of?

Quit provoking each other.

Progress in the front of the house! The contractor put up the wood panelling, and the painter painted and stained. It was an awful week - the fridge was tucked away under drop clothes, and the area was blocked off by plastic with a cumbersome zipper. The house stunk like paint and turpentine and whatever other fumes, so we had the windows open, and I wilted from the heat. Don't worry, I didn't hold back from complaining.

But now! The panelling is beautiful, the fumes have dissipated, and I can waltz to the front of the house and access the refrigerator without having to reach to the floor to unzip a fragile plastic wrap zipper (with my hands full of food and a baby and bending over itself has become a difficult exercise in air-expulsion.)

August 23, 2014 (1)

August 23, 2014 (2)

What remains to be done? Wallpaper, mostly.

What about the kitchen?

Of all my pleasure, I still have some indigestion about the kitchen counters. Here are the opposing facts that I struggle with:
1. Of the choices available, these counters are my favorite.
2. If perfect counters were unavailable, then I should go cheap. Which we didn't. These were expensive. (Not crazy expensive like the blue marble I mentioned at one point. But not IKEA cheap.)

Part of me regrets buying expensive counters, when they're not my perfect pink marble vision of counters, but I don't like any of the other options as much.

Here's the dilemma: Jammies wants to seal the marble on the imperfect, expensive counters. In other words, they're currently unsealed counters. They will never be unsealed again! This is the one and only opportunity to experiment! If the truly perfect counters are pink marble, couldn't we try to stain these counters? I'm picturing spilling red wine on the counters for a few hours, but there's probably a more established methodology. I proposed this so many times that finally Jammies said, "Look, are you actually being serious? There is no way we're dying the counters pink."

(If Jammies called my bluff, I'm not sure what I'd say, but I'd probably research it at least.)

Here is the kitchen:

August 23, 2014 (3)

I know that is a violent shade of green. It's intense. Some will get covered up by the refrigerator, stove, and dishwasher. But I still feel a bit apologetic, like I'm hurting everyone's eyes.

However, listen: I love it. Against the violent green, I'm content with the counters, even. (The counters are still wrapped in the photo above, though, what with the yet-unsealed state.) It is my picnic, my outdoor patio, and hey, I log an awful lot of hours in the kitchen.

Not redone for resale value

Hawaiian Punch wrapped up daycare last week, and she starts kindergarten next week. She and I spent the week together running errands, buying school supplies, visiting IKEA, and so on. We met her kindergarten teacher at Back to School Night. (My brain kept chanting "Joey and Janice's Day of FUN!" which is an embarrassing reference to Friends that you should be relieved you don't get, or ashamed if you do.)

On Wednesday, Jammies and I took Hawaii and Hokey Pokey to Schlitterbahn, the local water park. (Sorry, future Ace. You got sent to daycare alone.) What is there to say about Schlitterbahn? We all had lots of fun. Hawaii liked the rides, Pokey liked the kiddie areas (but cried about spilling his Dippin' Dots and then got down and tried to eat them off the nasty green outdoor carpet, which I put the kibbosh on.) We were all beside ourselves with exhaustion afterwards.

Which is all to say: Hawaii starts kindergarten on Monday! I know it's supposed to be momentous, but I'm like "Eh, she's mature enough to start fourth grade." (Except for not knowing how to read or any of the content between kindergarten and fourth grade.) Mostly I think she'll really enjoy herself.

Five going on Forty

Here are two canonical images of Ace at sixteen months:
1. Rustling around Hokey Pokey's closet and putting on his shoes and walking around proudly. Or my shoes. Or anyone's shoes.
2. Saying incessantly "A-dat? A-dat?" and pointing, by which she is saying "What's that? What's that?" and inducing her companion to name and describe different aspects of the environment.

Pokey hates the penis pocket in his underpants. (I've mentioned this here before, I think.) So we turn them around and he wears them backwards. Which yields the extra following "perk" - he uses the penis pocket hole to dig in and scratch his butt directly.

It's hilarious and gross, and kids really don't wash their hands very often. But so funny to look over and see him rooting around through the hole in the underwear over his butt.

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