Doing the Deed, The Kitchen Deed

 Though this has been on our minds for quite a few years now, I wasn't sure it was ever going to happen.  Our kitchen has had some water damage and has slowly been falling apart.  

My fear of coming home and finding the side of my house caved in was growing by the day. Before we got to the kitchen, the furnace was screaming louder, so the savings went there, but  I did start trying to figure out what we were up against.  The Major Roof Man son of mine said the lid had to come off, a partial wall come down and floor come up. Oh, is that all?  Thank God for him, because all I have to do is  pick out cabinets, and pack this ol' place up and figure out how I'm going to feed us without a kitchen.  And that has about pushed me right over the edge. Of course, the time to do it would come just after prices were jacked over the moon from the pandemic.  I finally went last year and got a quote and the cabinets were only going to be about 15 times what we paid last time.  For one thing, there are so many choices. For another thing, I live in a an ol' tumbledown farmhouse-what sense does it make to stick a million dollar kitchen on the side of it?  So another year has come and gone with us saving like crazy and trying to figure what we can and can't live with.  At least I think. Those goofy little squares that are supposed to show you what it is going to look like make me crazy.  I can't see what something is going to look like until I see it. Ugh. I'm telling you this stuff is not in my wheelhouse. Just these last few days the plan is finally coming together. I ordered a Pod, the Major is assembling a demolition crew and tonight it really came home as I started trying to determine the least amount of pot, pan, fork, etc. that could get me through. 

Handy Man can't do much till the sorting is done, so he decided to clean out the change bucket. It hasn't been touched since we cleaned it out eight years ago to go into Rae's adoption fund.  Probably buy quite a bit of  hardware. 

And as usual, the emotional part. Cleaning out the junk drawer I found the list I made of do's and don'ts when Mom was spending her last days earthside. Of course, my stomach started to hurt, tears, you know the drill I'm guessing. That bar I'm taking apart has held food  for the masses for 36 years. I decided I wasn't parting with it as it came with the house and will become an island. 

 I know the world is in such a mess. A new kitchen in the face of wars and pandemics is laughable, but if  you want pray for wisdom, safety for the workers, and things that work and go together, it won't hurt my feelings. 

We had a good time celebrating Jimi on his birthday/anniversary weekend. I didn't think to get the picture till after Aunt Tish left. 

Bright and Quirky

Dear Jimi, 

 Funny, today is still your birthday, only you aren't here to celebrate with us. We'll celebrate all the same.  I know I don't need to explain loss to you.  Somehow you always got me. 

It is the end of the nine weeks and time to conference with parents. I found myself returning to research, trying to find any little or big thing I haven't tried with my students who are square pegs, expected to shape shift into round holes and came upon a site called Bright and Quirky, where I spent a lot of time this morning. How fitting to land there on your birthday, my most favorite bright and quirky person.  I miss you. 

I don't miss what  went on the last couple of years.  In 2020, we were coming to the end of a long siege of hospital and rehab, six weeks worth and your birthday was approaching. I planned you a party in a room at rehab. Since we lost two siblings at age 63, and since you'd already gone two rounds of being nearly dead, you were so looking forward to being 64.  But on your actual birthday, the world stopped turning. We didn't get to have your party and I didn't go back to school that spring.  Covid is the pits, but that not going back to school allowed me to drop you off and pick you up from dialysis and many appointments, and keep you well fed, so for that I was grateful. That spring you were allowed one last spring in your step and were up and about, mowing the lawn, doing things you loved. It was a short lived spring before your liver failed entirely. From summer's end to your end, it was hard going and heart breaking. On this morning last year, Tish was fighting the powers that be to get you home.  Finally, at seven pm on Friday, your 65th birthday, you were so happy to be in your own little corner with the comforts that meant home to you.  It was so short lived. On Sunday at noon, I wrapped myself around you and sobbed as you left here.     

What do I miss?  I'm a little quirky myself ( insert  here -chuckle of my closest people who are smiling saying, "Umm, you think?"). Our kitchen is in need of repair, serious repair. Could there be a worse time with the current prices?  I am so struggling with spending a king's ransom for a kitchen that will be part of tumbledown ol' farm house.  What I'd love to do is use old cabinets and warm colors and have a mismatch cabinets, but how to do this alludes me. If you were here, you would ride around to places with me all day and tell just what would work where, and I would have zero doubt that you were right.  I miss your big hugs. I miss the way you liked me and everything that I liked. You would have loved that I took a pottery class and wouldn't have minded if I gave you a tiniest bowl or vase for a tiniest bloom, my favorites as well. 

I miss your little treasures you saved for me, or my students. I miss how we shared a love of plants and animals and babies and details and littlest things. I miss that my emotions didn't scare you, and you had no expectation that I shouldn't cry or grieve things and people. I surely miss that smile. I miss having a quirky partner. 

This was the last time you were able to join the fun, food and festivities you loved, at the Gingerbread House Party. 

It has been 363 days of missing you and tears.  Tomorrow though, your boys and a couple of your friend girls and few more of your people will celebrate you with me. Happy Heavenly Birthday my brother/friend. 

Love, Your Quirky Baby Sister

Other than teach and finally go my own round with the latest variation of the latest disease, I've done the above mentioned pottery and not much else.

The Saturday before Valentine's Day I did stop by the floral department of our big Kroger to ask if they could save me some ribbon spools. I told them I needed them for a class project. The nice lady asked where I worked and them asked if I'd like some flowers for the teachers.  I said that would be great thinking she was going to give me a bouquet. No, eight dozen roses. What?

So it turned out to be a fun double blessing as my girls and I enjoyed making a ton of little bouquets and my students loved delivering them on Valentine's Day.