And then there were Walls

 The last couple weeks have been a little stressful.  Feeling a little fatigued from the home renovation experience. We just officially went over the time line this week, which we anticipated.  The three storms, loss of power, flooding, and then subsequent rain storms fated us to the new deadline.  Over two month with no kitchen and now we have walls, lights, and even a little trim.  It officially looks like something.  It's getting kinda pretty in my kitchen and "studio", otherwise known as the Healthy Home and Heart Studio.  The fatigue is still there but there is quite literally a light at the end of the kitchen tunnel.  Really they put in lights today.  
        I'm scheduling deliveries now and anticipating with great impatience the day they come to deliver and install the beautiful leathered granite.  The pieces I worked so hard at coordinating really do seem to make the serene, sophisticated, and homey space we so wanted.  While all this very tangible and busy work must be done to make a home a home I want to take a moment to tell you what this kitchen renovation actually means to me, and my family.  
           If you know me, and you may since I spend many weekends at farmers markets and see folks in my home for healing treatments, you know I'm a sensitive person.  You also know I went through a big transition a few years ago and recreated my life. At the time I knew it was a very brave, strong, and  healthy decision for myself, but it also filled with loss, but it is true what they say.  Sometimes you have to close the door before you can open the next one.  I bravely closed that door.  Of course, true to my nature in a very scheduled and methodical way.  If you have visions of me driving away in a silver airstream calico curtains trailing in the wind you would be right in grasping my dreamy self, but not the actual Marcia.  I ordered a moving truck, packed everything very carefully, and pointed where everything would go, then meticulously decorated.   Tasteful (so I think), antique things, new things, collected things, and homey things. 
            To feel secure I need my things at least tucked around me, not perfect just beautiful to me.  When I moved in with my now husband I knew I needed an adjustment to the space.  He bought it on his own, and I love it.  It's old, quirky, and lots of great qualities to polish.  But really it felt like his, and the owner before.  Many of the paint colors were chosen by the previous owner.  We painted, adjusted rooms but it just never felt like I fit. My husband and I knew the kitchen needed a gut and a year ago started the search for the cabinets and four months ago ordered.  It wasn't until we actually gutted the kitchen that I realized the impact of this physical change on my life.  I mean sure it's going to be much easier to get around, efficient, and beautiful, but something sprang alive in me.  
                For the first time since selling my old house I enjoyed gardening.  Yesterday I was weeding, carrying things, and envisioning the garden to come.  Most of my life was gardening.  My fondest most nurturing memories are with my gram doing something outside, or canning what we found, or cleaning up something we grew.  I have forced my self to be involved at this place and love our home, but I never really enjoyed the garden.  I just figured the spark had died, that part of my life was over ready for the next.  It turns out that ripping out that old nasty kitchen was exactly what I needed to ignite a new spark.  It was my literal, visual, and creatively the clean slate I needed, at the time I needed it.  Tom and I are now physically building the life together we've always wanted.  Secure with each other and blissfully happy.  Really we are ridiculous.  



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