All this and we got married, moved, bought a house, moved again and kept a baby alive. No wonder we need a cottage up north to get away.
A second coat of interior paint, a layer of Kilz, mounting hooks and shelves, mapping electrical and plumbing, stripping the wax off the floor…the work never seems to end, but summer does.
Out of nowhere, as he wrestles baby into a complicated onsie/dress combo, hubby exclaims loudly “Man, do I understand now why women are the way they are!”
He went on to expound the tortures of every item being a different style, with different fasteners in different locations each time and everything either stretchy or clingy or binding or lacking in pockets.
“Men—pants, shirt, same thing every day…boom done!”
I love him so.
I love my bright Granny Smith Apple Green, I have used a variation of it in every one of my kitchens for many years, but sometimes I get it wrong. This time it was just a bit too bright, too saturated, too…green.
So, after some searching I found a very close match to Farrow & Balls Cooking Apple Green, BM’s “Mesquite”. And for the first time in my painting life, I bought a color whose name I don’t like. Good thing it’s lovely. Still green, just perfectly less so.
(Old green is on the right hand wall, new green on the left)
” Friday’s shootings bring the total in the last week to 26. Eight people have been killed in those shootings.”
That’s just one week. In my town. In Milwaukee. Not Syria, not Afghanistan. I’m so frustrated and sad and feel helpless to do anything about it. We are slaughtering our own, letting our neighbors and fellow Americans get injured and killed. As if poverty and segregation and humiliation wasn’t enough. And as long as we (by we I mean white, privileged, educated, wealthy, —pretty much every single person I know) can distance ourselves with excuses and gated neighborhoods from the poor, the left behind and the institutionally enslaved (incarcerated), it will continue.
It’s so dishearteneing to hear complaints about workers fighting for a better minimum wage–“I had to work hard for only so much, they should too”. I hear so many ways that we justify poverty; justify our Having and their Suffering. I’ve heard immigrants disparage other immigrant populations. I hear elderly folks and veterans cling to their social benefits, but deny others even the basic entry to schools. I hear young people bemoan their student loan debt (I don’t disagree), and in the next breathe say that fast food workers only make so little because they are uneducated and it’s their own fault. We can only measure our success as a community by how we care for the least among us.
Some days, though I am a dedicated atheist, I feel like a lonely Christian.
Ten months in, and we are still seeking sleep. Paulie stayed home to take care of Ci Ci when the daycare was closed yesterday. One big benefit of that is a nice long sleep in. He returned the favor for me this morning.
Apparently Ci Ci (“chee chee”, in the correct Sicillian spelling) isn’t napping at daycare—too much excitement, she wants to be playing all day. So she zonks out on the weekends like a hungover college kid. And we happily join her.
Look at her. Every parent says it, but it is a repeatable sentiment: When I see her little face it’s the only thing in the universe. Nature has a nice way of making sure we don’t eat our young.
Paul spent the day taking snapshots of beautiful cars at the Ferrari Club event at Road America today. I spent the day painting. And painting. And painting. The dining room walls are done (BM Shades of Spring and BM Raccoon Hollow). The more I look at the wood trim—the miles and miles of filthy, poor condition wood trim, the more I think having a pro team do all the trim through the house might be money well spent.
I also tackled the sunroom tile, getting one layer of dirt up. I have more research to do to learn how to really clean it and seal it properly. I am very motivated to get that tile in shape. It’s my favorite room in the house because its so sunny and pleasant. It’s the reason I bought the house. I think, if the pain in my shoulder is any indication, it might also be the reason I stop scrubbing floors.
It seems that everywhere I go, renovation takes place. This past Sunday in Door County was rainy; a welcome excuse not to work on the Tin Can. We drove up and down the peninsula instead, stopping for coffee and road side stands and second hand stores. A set of blue green melamine dishes and a wood stump table were our finds of the day, both perfect fits for our little camp site.
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