Even as I make good decisions

I think I finally figured out the coffee thing.  No coffee after noon has finally morphed into one cup of coffee in the morning...one regular sized cup of coffee in the morning.  Not a Venti Starbucks coffee.  Of course it helps when I make one cup at a time.  Thank you, sister Jane, for the reminder.  Two members of my beloved coffee-drinking family are off on a road trip this weekend looking at colleges.  I made one cup of coffee this morning through the plastic drip cone, the kind that sits on top of the coffee cup.   This accomplishment has not stopped me from walking around the kitchen with a magnet to see the possibilities.

Even as I make good decisions

I figure ways

To compromise them.

No caffeine after noon

So I can sleep at night

Becomes

Suck down as much coffee as possible

Before the clock hits twelve.

No magnetic surface

In the kitchen

Is a surprise

But in retrospect

Means less clutter

And

A Very Good Thing.

Then I find myself

Walking around the kitchen

Seeking that one magnetic surface

That Must Be There.

I know there are other ways

I do this

Even as I pat myself on the back

For good decisions,

Even good decisions I never made

But found

Shining on every stainless steel surface;

Surface which,

By the way,

Requires its own special stainless steel cleaner

Along with its most excellent

Non-magnetic properties.

The quilt that is our kitchen

My first client is at 3:00 so I am sitting in my old place at the dining room table, surveying the ducks, and gazing on the new kitchen.  A friend observed (thanks, Rick!) that we were piecing the kitchen together like a quilt.  That seems apt.  We are piecing things together.  With all the stainless steel it comes as a surprise to me that none of the surfaces are magnetic.  This is probably a good thing, but it does take some getting used to.

The quilt that is our kitchen

Has the coffee pot and toaster

Pieced in.

There are school books

On the counter.

Oh yes

I remember this.

The quilt that is our kitchen

Has no magnetic surface.

We have moved

All the necessary notes

To the playroom door,

The one that leads

To the cold room.

It used to be the garage.

Now it stores my old office,

The theological books,

Three old computers.

The door is the only steel surface

We have left

For the important notes

Which used to go

On the side of the refrigerator

Or on the steel front door.

Now we have one door

For the important clutter:

The necessary school notes,

The blood tests three months hence,

Assorted pictures.

The quilt that is our kitchen

Requires order.

No magnetic surface.

None at all.

Backsplash

We are leaving the turtle in charge

I know Christmas looks different every year...  but this year it is way different.  More to learn.  Always more to learn.  We are leaving the turtle in charge of the countertops.

The kitchen is still

In the family room

In boxes.

The Christmas tree

(Artificial)

Is still

In the basement. 

Once finals and grading

Are done,

The tree will go

In the corner

Opposite the boxes

Of kitchen supplies.

The silverware will move

Under the TV

To make room for the tree.

I sit and write

In the raspberry chair.

At semi-regular intervals

I take time

To stick my fingers in my ears

Sing la la la

Then la la la

Again.

It*s seasonal,

Doncha know?

We will move the silverware

This weekend.

The countertops

Will be installed

When we*re in Florida

After Christmas.

The cat will spend the holidays

At the vet.

We are leaving the turtle

In charge.

The old and the new

Tomorrow the appliances arrive.  The next step.  The painting is now complete.  The new puts the old into sharp relief.  The old has served us well.  We have had our current refrigerator for fifteen years.  It was here when we bought the house.  To be sure... its water stopped running, and we couldn*t replace the light in the refrigeration compartment.  But it continues to do its job, even in the dark.

The fresh paint smell

Permeates the house.

Of course now we notice

The fifteen years of paint

Declaring its age

On the other walls.

This is how it always is

When new

Confronts the old.

We stand back,

Let each declare

Its superiority.

Tomorrow 

The new refrigerator will arrive

While the old one looks on

From the living room,

Jealous of the stainless sleekness

The light that actually works

The water that cubes and shaves and flows

The efficiency rating:

A nine out of ten

Of available refrigerators.

The old one

Has served us

An amazing fifteen years.

We purchased the warranty

On the new one.

We have been warned.

Oh yes

We have been warned.

Toms

The kitchen renovation continues.  God willing, they will finish installing the cabinets today.  My beloved is set on a particular sink.  I care that water will run and whichever sink we end up with will work as a sink.  Thankfully, Tom, the design guy, is here to help.  He is one of the plethora of Toms involved in this process.  He is calm and centered.

The kitchen project continues

Interesting.

The workmen arrived

At 7:30.

They are all named

Tom.

The sink we wanted

Is backordered

In China,

So we look at

Alternative sinks.

More options

Always more options.

A plethora of options.

Meanwhile one of the Toms

Uses a power saw

In the kitchen.

It reverberates

Off the tile.

I contemplate,

As best as I am able,

The oatmeal at Starbucks

With all the fixings.

We lean toward orange

Pick your paint colors... and live with the results.  When we moved here years ago, we chose a neutral color for the whole house.  We all agreed and the color is fine but really rather boring.  Our bright orange bathroom, in glossy tangerine, is anything but boring.  Indeed, with the white shiny floor tile, it was blinding.  With the tile change, it seems a better choice.  Now we don*t have to squint when we go in there.  Now we are considering a color for the kitchen.  

Obviously we lean toward

Orange.

The last time we made the mistake

Of gloss

Instead of eggshell.

Our downstairs bathroom

Shed a neon tangerine glow

In the white tiled hallway,

Even when the door

Was shut.

With more muted tile

Underway,

The orange gloss

Is now

Almost palatable.

We can look in the bathroom mirror

And not

Be blinded.

Now it*s time

For the kitchen.

We still seem to lean

Toward orange,

Even though the conversation

Had settled on brick red.

We have made two trips

To the hardware store

For 36 by 36 paint chips.

We have moved from oranges

To peaches

To Moroccan red.

The current agreement

Is rust.

We will consider the color

In daylight

In spotlight

When the sun shines on it

Just so

Right before twilight

Sets in.

As a family

We lean toward orange.

Every morning we remember

What orange gloss

Got us.

Sleeping

Oversleeping.  Yesterday I blamed it on the weather, the sun failing to show before afternoon.  This morning I have no such excuse.  In fact my mind trips around the difference between oversleeping and all the sleepovers I used to have when I was growing up.  When I get up in the morning, whenever I get up in the morning, the kitchen is still not anywhere near complete.  The house is in disarray.  The coffee pot still lives in our bathroom.

It is a week of oversleeping

As opposed to sleeping over.

Oversleeping has the connotation

Of grabbing extra needed hours

Of snooze.

Sleeping over

Has little to do

With actual sleep,

Only being awake

With others

In the dark

Hushed giggles

An occasional snort

Seeing if the hand of the sleeper

Dipped in warm water

Has the expected consequences.

No

This week all of us

Are  oversleeping.

When we awake

Maybe the kitchen

Will function

If we sleep

Long enough.

Maybe more will be in hand

If we sleep

A long long time.

Promises

Ugh.  Ugh.  Ugh.  

The kitchen is swathed

In plastic.

Really

They*ve only begun.

Next week

We are promised a mess

Of the fifth dimension.

Then they will leave us alone

Until the cabinets

Arrive.

I used to love

Promises.

Duchess

I met the Duchess in the gift shop, before ordering tea and scones.  It really is another world, one that I was not expecting.  I did not expect interactions with royalty,  Especially in the gift shop.  Now I am home with my Duchess apron, with a demolished kitchen, the refrigerator in the living room, the coffee pot in our bathroom upstairs.  I am waiting to use my apron.

I met the Duchess of Argyle

In the gift shop

Of the Inveraray Castle.

She was wearing a kitchen apron.

It read, simply,

Duchess.

The Duke had gone to fetch the children,

Two boys and a girl,

Lady Charlotte

Age four.

She was a cab driver

Before she married

The Duke.

The Duchess rang up my purchases.

I bought a Duchess apron,

Had her sign it for me.

It appeals to my sense of whimsy.

The whole scene.

I will wear the apron

When the kitchen is complete.

I will pretend

I live in a castle.

Functional

The bathroom paint guy seems competent.  Alleluia.  The contractor is off to pick up our chosen kitchen floor tile from the tile place.  I am happy with the kitchen choices for a house we will put on the market in three years.  It is not my dream kitchen.  My dream kitchen would be a vibrant colorful place in which people would feel like dancing as they made heavenly creative meals.

The paint guy is here today.

The promise is a functional bathroom

By Wednesday.

We have learned about building

Promises.

This is an exercise

In more than construction

Or reconstruction.

Meanwhile

The kitchen

Looms on the horizon.

A small functional kitchen.

A kitchen with drawers

For pots and pans.

Small kitchen

Yet one more reflection in the renovation series.  Months ago we went through motions to re-do the kitchen.  One contractor thought we should get rid of a kitchen wall.  This plan shrunk our already small dining area.  Contractor number two had good renovation skills but was zilch in the design department.  Months later we have backed into a kitchen with contractor number three, who works with a free-lance designer.  They describe themselves as the Odd Couple and share a showroom.  We were not planning on doing a kitchen so soon, but I guess we are.  I leave on a pilgrimage to Iona Wednesday morning.  Life will continue on after I am gone, and of course, when I return.  I hope for small things:  a drawer for my pots and pans, clear glass in the sliding doors so I can see the birds.  And yes, a workable, functional, pleasant kitchen.

Today we settled on floor tile

For the kitchen.

We even came to semi-agreement

On the backsplash.

The door person yesterday

Was completely unhelpful,

Apologetically unhelpful.

The combination

Made it worse.

Our kitchen is small

As kitchens go these days.

It will stay small.

No gourmet chef

Will ever worry about tired feet

As they stand for hours

On the tile we chose today

Making tiramisu.

No gourmet chef

Will ever buy our house

In the middle of our particular community.

Ours will be a kitchen

With no warming ovens

Or freezer drawers.

There will be a drawer

For pots and pans.

I hope for sliding doors

With clear glass

To see the birds in back.

We heard blue jays yesterday.

I want to see the birds

Fly through

On their way

South or North,

Or perhaps stay with us awhile,

Outside our new kitchen

With clear glass.

No workers in sight

Today we can breathe a bit.  The bathroom is almost done.  No workers are scheduled for the weekend.  We will do the kitchen this fall.  It is a project that has grown and shrunk at least weekly.  We had put it off until next year, then the water came through, killed the stove and made the tile squishy.  So later today we have an appointment to look at cabinets.

The cat follows

The strip of sunlight

Through the living room.

There are no workers here today.

He can relax,

Claim his weekend

Like us.

The upstairs bathroom almost done

We consider the kitchen.

It will be simple

As far as kitchens go

These days.

The old bathroom fixtures wait

On the front porch

To be picked up

For recycling.

First

The weekend:

No workers in sight.

Cat in the sun.

Renovation

We have never been fond of the white tile which runs from the front door through the kitchen.  It doesn*t stay clean for more than a minute.  Yesterday the men working on the drywall in the upstairs bathroom broke a pipe and the kitchen flooded.  We cleaned up all day.  The kitchen renovation we were planning for next year will likely come sooner.  Now it*s not just a dead dishwasher, but the water means something is wrong with the stove as well.  House of cards?  Jenga?  Pick your metaphor.  

Now there is a squishy spot

Under the white kitchen tile.

We have figured

To replace the white tile

For a long time now.

Now it seems

A fait accompli.

Now the top down

Renovation,

One thing at a time,

Is instead

A house of cards,

A game of Jenga,

Pick your metaphor.

Move one thing

In the pile

Watch everything shift,

Settle to new locations.

Now the lack of kitchen ceiling

Gives us easy access

To the floor above,

The squishy tile

Access

To the basement.

We consider the move

To a future ranch home

On a slab.

Kitchen?

The hole in the kitchen ceiling has sparked our kitchen conversation again.  Yes, the construction folk will drywall the hole.  In the meantime, we discuss dioramas.

Yesterday they fixed

The bathroom plumbing,

Cut a large square hole

In the kitchen ceiling.

Rather hard

To ignore.

Once things get started

It*s difficult to ignore

The undone pieces,

Particularly

The large square hole

In the ceiling.

At dinner last night

We thought to make it 

A PVC pipe shadow box,

Title it something creative

Like Plastic in Process,

Rather like the dioramas

We used to make

In grade school.

Top down

There is most often an order to things.  The trick is to figure out which order makes sense.  Sometimes it seems that the thing I most want to do (the kitchen, for example) comes absolutely last.

Now we work from the top

Down.

Silly us.

We thought to do the kitchen

First.

Thank goodness the bids 

Came in

Too high.

So we started

With the leak

In the roof.

We have learned again

To work

Top down.

The kitchen

Will come last,

Probably right before

We move.

Kitchen window

As we contemplate a new kitchen, I realize I am most excited about being able to see the outside clearly.  While the kitchen conversations are around counter tops and cabinets and universal resale-ability,  I dream of being able to see the birds clearly in winter.  

In the new kitchen

We will be able to see through the window

Over the sink.

We will not have to guess at birds,

Dim blurred images

Of themselves.

Now the color red

means a probable cardinal.

The ducks across the way

Look possibly duck-like.

The lady in red

Is barely a lady.

She has no recognizable face.

In the new kitchen

There will be clear glass

Distinct birds.

We will be able to see

Our neighbors.