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It's official: I did not make time to write while renovations were underway. And by were, I mean Are. Here we are creeping up on one year and we are still working on stair railings, baseboards, toe kicks, exterior painting (gotta wait out the rain on that one) and.... the list goes on.
But! I did have a moment a few weeks ago when I looked around at all we have accomplished and thought, "Oh my goodness, this is becoming my dream home." The afternoon light was floating through the windows, we had just installed our concrete counters (which took weeks to build forms, pour, perfect, sand, polish, seal, wax) and here I was walking around this beautiful little house with really only finishing touches remaining.

I can't quite see the light at the end of the tunnel. I think we both see all of the things awaiting our attention. Some days I just cook and clean and do normal "life stuff" and pretend nothing else exists (like painting, sanding, excavating, digging, planting). It's fun to play house as if life were just work, walks with Pup, dinner, sleep, work, weekends. Like how they used to be in my imaginary Less Stressful Life.
I admit I prefer to reframe my history as a very smooth transition from one calm moment to another. It feels nice to think that life will become calm again and I will feel like my navigational skills are working and my head isn't too full for paying attention during a conversation or getting creative with new recipes (did someone say: "Pick three meals and rotate them for a year. It's a good idea!"!?).

It's not about bean tostadas vs vegetables and rice or pasta sauce with polenta. It's not about three straight months of canned soup heated up in the microwave (when the only kitchen we had was on top of the dryer in the basement, and the only shower was the laundry sink - also in the basement). It's about remembering 12+ hour days seven days a week for six months followed by just seven days a week as a really fun, lively adventure filled with laughs and silliness.

It's not like anyone got hurt....

Oh, except when we moved the counters those last two inches and I crushed the side of my hand, had a vasovagal response (seriously, look it up) which ended with me passing out and falling against a wall which resulted in whiplash and searing pain in my back.

So, I'm back. And my back hurts. But at least our counters are beautiful and I love our kitchen and I cannot believe that at the end of all of this we will have this beautiful little home together. Every detail represents hours of thought and discussion, compromise and careful intention. We created a place we think we will like in the future, love right now, and there's no going back. We're almost there.