“Quirky Paper Plate Wreath Close Up Showing Hot Glued Sprinkles and All So As To Prove To Myself That I Have Not Made A Boring, Basic White Girl New House For Myself That Drives Me Batty. (Picture me whispering to myself, ‘I am still weird. I do still have character. This house is not stupid. We’re going to make it. We have not one, but two cat print dresses. Surely we’re not basic yet. Are we? Maybe cat print curtains would help??’) Sigh. Nobody has ever accused me of being relaxed. Not even once. I think I don’t know what to do with myself without a bunch of kids and projects under my feet. All this middle aged learning and growth stuff. Maybe I could learn to draw cats?”
That was my Instagram post this morning. Because I’ve clearly gone all She Bat. That’s why.
This morning Mark and I were having coffee in the sunroom (mostly he works on work stuff and I read a book, or think deep thoughts, or visit with Jesus, or spend way too much time on Google News crying about how if we all just came together maybe we could save the world, or chair dancing to Chris Brown while praying for his talented but mouthy soul, or blog stalking someone I like, or plotting for where we will live next, or when I should get that consultation with the plastic surgeon to fix my under eye bags, then I think probably I should stick to plotting about where I live now, which leads to me sharing all my wonderful, circular thoughts with Mark who is trying to do work) and I was all squirrelly about how sadly, I am not getting our new house right at all, and it it basically stupid, and has no character, and I cannot even do any of the things I want to do without him because I am not awesome with power tools like Nikki, and most likely I would cut a finger or two off if I tried, and how am I even supposed to play the piano without all my digits? Not even blepharoplasty would make up for that loss. Probably it would not. But it might.
And Mark sighs, puts all his devices down, looks me right in the eyes and says, “Who is Nikki, and why am I supposed to care about her?”
Me grievously offended, “Oh please, Mark. You totally know who Nikki is. I’ve told you all about my flea market friend who used to live here and is sassy like me, but now she is in Savannah and I will most likely never see her again, and she just had to evacuate because of that hurricane, and now she is at her friend’s house redoing her bathroom, and being all pissy that Lowe’s will not rent her tools to make the project faster, but so far it’s looking really good, and she is Awesome, and I showed you a picture. REMEMBER?”
Mark stares blank faced and replies, “How does this have anything to do with our house?”
Me in a huff, “Because, MARK, if I were like Nikki and not all spacey living in my head, and more connected to my Body (did I tell you she is an ESTJ like you? ) then I could put up those faux brick panels that I want, and paint them the Briarwood color of our cabinets, and do the German Schmear over it, and put it in on the wall behind our bed, and I wouldn’t even have to wait for you to think it’s time to do quirky stuff that adds character to our new house, and I could do the picture molding in the dining room, and the bead board in the bonus room, and I could extend the crown molding, and I could make everything happen All By Myself Whenever I Wanted.”
Marriage Advice From A Pro – Always use pitiful, passive aggressive statements to help your spouse understand how sad you are about being clumsy with power tools so that they know they, And Only They can save your life, making your home, your world, your life, and the universe everything you hope and dream of, plus more, plus glitter, plus unicorns, plus all the glitter covered unicorns. #alltheunicorns
So then we went through a long list of the Great Ideas I’ve had that he has not been excited about, and we talked through every one, then he fixed a barstool for me that I want to make a plant stand, or pumpkin stand, or something, then I moped around woefully making my breakfast smoothie, and using my foam roller on my dumb shin splints so I can keep walking even though I cannot run, and maybe beat pre-diabetes, and then Mark wrapped me right up in his super strong arms before he left, and a little tear squeezed out of my eye as I burrowed into his chest and I whispered, “You think I’m being high strung about this, don’t you.”
And he kept snuggling me and replied, “Maybe a little bit. We’ve only been here 2 months. And you said you wanted to live in it for a little while so the house could tell you who it was, and we’ve come a long way already…..” and then. Well. I will leave all respectful groping out of it, but you can tack that on to the Marriage Advice portion of this post, too. #resepctfulgropinghealsallwounds
So I went for my walk, and enjoyed all the Fall out, and posted my wreath on Instagram, and my friends were all sweet and supportive, and gave me compliments because I think they’ve all been watching the Kollektivet YouTube Video “Compliments” which is AMAZING, and you should stop reading right now and go watch it if you don’t know it, and then I started texting nice things to Mark.
The drugs line was just a self aware nod to the fact that I might be both hormonal and mentally unstable, and in need of some Progesterone to make me good as new. Don’t stress out about me trying illicit substances to balance the crazy out. Mark and I have both come to the conclusion that I am wired equally Weird and Awesome, and managing the freak outs is worth all the fun things. (Mostly I record that sentence, and play it over and over for Mark once he falls asleep each night, and that is the secret to our happy marriage. So much great Marriage Advice today. I hope you are writing this down.)
In closing, I am aware of God’s goodness and kindness to me in this weird, transitory season through the stability of my husband (who stands firmly on the ground holding onto the Kite that is his wife, whether she’s flying in sunny skies or being battered by storms, and he never lets go. Ever. And she is safe to caper about because he’s got her. She also loves to talk about herself in third person.) through the sweetness and humor and sass of my friends, through the new mercies His Word brings, and in having lived long enough to know that everything changes always, so I won’t be weird forever and I am glad for that.
This kind of weird, anyhow.
Clearly that was in Firstly Closing.
In Secondly Closing, here is the photo evolution of our Foyer so you all can decide if you’re siding with Mark or with me about the progress in our house.
More Marriage Advice – Always ask everyone to take sides in anything you and your spouse are talking through, making sure to add a nice Curve that sways the odds in your favor. Use absolutes like “Everyone” “Always” and “Never” often. They are the best words to bring out any time your perspectives differ.
Foyer during build – July 2016
At the Final Walkthrough – August 8, 2016
Mark shows chestfullness while spraying ceilings Wimborne White, but shields your eyes from full frontal nippleage with the t-shirt covering his mouth and draped over said chest.
Painting walls Sherwin Williams Anew Gray at 50%, Installing the Door Blind, and Removing the Boob Light and Throwing Up The New Chandelier
All doors, trim, and wainscoting going Farrow and Ball’s Wimborne White instead of that wretched Pinky White (poorly named Divine White) plus new bronze door knobs installed
Blue Tape and Wall Art
Adding a cute bench from Joss and Main
With a little rug and pumpkin and lamp and family photo, she is complete. For today. I don’t know if I want a gallery wall over the bench. The living room already has one with mirrors, and the dining sports a botanical gallery wall, so I imagine it would be overkill, which is presumably just right for someone trying to be #notbasic, yeah?