even when

Sometimes it's hard to be cute. Not everyone has the ability to say things that are totally delightful or can walk around blinking like a baby owl (as you know: the epitome of cuteness). I like the ones who surprise you and catch you off guard. Like the little guy in the middle on the far right. He's pretty cute. And oops! Looks totally surprised; just trying to look like a Panda.

I am not cute today. I woke up before Mister Important made the Earth (like, very early) and didn't bother to shower. I did shower last night, but that only meant my hair looked nice before I went to bed. Once I slept on it (partially wet as it was) it looked a little awkward.

We have a mirror by the door to our office and it's job is pretty simple: To mock you each time you walk by and make snide remarks like, "Oh, what, woke up early today?" And, "You look tired."

Which, by the way, is a terrible thing to say to somebody. I try and pre-empt it with over-zealous protective commentaries about myself looking tired. "I know, I look totally awful. " Or, "Ugh, I feel like a zombie, and probably look like one, too." It's not like I'm fishing for compliments or that I have a low self esteem. I just don't want someone to tell me I look tired. Even when I look really really tired.

what the world is made of

Here are some words from a mother who's teenage daughter had a major stroke recently. I keep reading them with awe at her sense of gratefulness in response to something that most of us would tremble to even think about. If I can take anything from this, it is the aspiration to step into life with this sense of grace and appreciation. As a wise friend said, "The greatest part of our happiness depends on our dispositions, not our circumstances."

I wish I could spin my moments of unhappiness into something so beautiful. The least I can do is wonder at a mother who is watching her child relearn everything she once knew, from language to walking and hopefully one day to singing and dancing. The most I can do is learn to reframe the not-so-special times into something I can learn from, and hopefully look upon those times as a gift. If not, there's always a chance to laugh at my own silliness.

"Between watching this beautiful and amazing creature courageously rebuild her body and her vocabulary, and these people I have called my best friends for decades move heaven and earth to help her, I am quite overcome most of the day, everyday. I feel as if someone said, "Sit. Watch. This is what the world is really made of. There's more beauty and love and joy here than you could possibly imagine. Remember this and nothing that could ever happen will shake you again." I am forever changed."
                                              -m.b.q.




[photo courtesy of lavender and dash]

floor plans

It's not every day you look around at 20 houses or so and pick the one that is not inhabitable. It may have a huge yard and loads of potential, it may even have a garage and a full basement. But it does not have safe floors, there are pieces missing, and there is rot. Also, someone decided it would be fun to see how much water a basement can hold.

Truth be told, this isn't our first rodeo. We've successfully moved into two old, dirty, paint-flaky, stinky houses that had lots of potential that we were willing to paint, clean, deodorize and live in. And we did paint, clean, deodorize and live in them, and they turned out great. Nice, even. We just haven't bought one before.

As it turns out we kinda like this sort of thing, and here we are on the verge of something a little bit crazy. We have no idea (really) what we're getting ourselves into. Neither one of us are carpenters (or plumbers or smithies or window replacers or basement fixer-uppers). We've never sanded our own wood floors or tried to replace a door frame. We've painted (a lot) and we have drawn up 37+ floor plans and even created them in SolidWorks in 3D. We've studied hundreds of kitchens and bathrooms and asked questions and put the kitchen where the bathroom is and the bedroom where the other bedroom was.

And we've signed papers. Lots and lots of papers. And it's nearly ours (but not quite yet).

You know what that means: You're about to the join the adventure, too. Because I have a feeling I won't be able to hold back when I get oh-so-excited about finding a salvaged glass door knob to fit the pint-size door upstairs, and I know I'll probably go hog-wild when things get too crazy and the total bill is waaaay more than we expected (it always is).

But  it's nearly ours.

And we have help.




Pretty kitchen photo courtesy of House Beautiful, the others: that's what we're working with. yep. There is the before.... and the wishes for the after.