Week 11: Wide Open Spaces

Dixie Chick lyrics played on my internal iPod as Clint completed the demo, tearing down walls to continue our kitchen remodel. As the song goes, we need room to make some mistakes: in our house remodel, in our first year of marriage, in our lives generally. Clint installed a support beam, then tore down all of the shoring. During this process, I reminded myself that I am married to a structural engineer before vocalizing doubt about the plan. Thankfully, our house, marriage, and lives are quite intact.

Week 10: Micro-Carnivores

John Donne, a metaphysical poet, once penned verse about the romantic qualities of fleas. I prefer not to think about petite parasites who feed on human blood. This aversion was challenged after the death of an elderly cat. Last summer, Clint's cat passed away and her fleas fled to the far-reaching crevices of the house. Clint sat on his bed with starched white sheets waiting for the nightly attack. With Karate Kid reflexes, he "purpled" his fingers with preemptive strikes. Yet, Clint consistently woke up with multiple flesh wounds. We used all known methods of DIY extermination. Vacuuming? It spruced up their vampire lair. Bug spray? It only whet their appetite. Finally, on a tip from a family member, we purchased Ortho's Home Defence spray. This manufacturer deserves a medal. The creatures fled from the spray. We are now "donne" with fleas!

Week 9: Fun with Clint and Jen

Drywall demolition began last Thursday and such visual progress is quite satisfying. I arrived home to the baritone boom of Clint's sledgehammer and quickly changed clothes to join in the destruction. Clint labeled "Jen's Wall" on the division between our current laundry and living rooms, which we plan to open up. This will create an open-designed grand room. With great satisfaction, we tore that puppy up. To be accurate, I did 6% of the work, and Clint accomplished the other 94%. I've come to the profound realization that knocking stuff down is fun. Fun at three with wooden blocks. Fun at fifteen with a rowdy Jenga game. Fun at thirty with remodeling a slightly larger wooden block.

Week 8: The Ugly Stuff

Over dinner last Saturday, Clint and I spread poster board across the table and mindmapped our next project: the kitchen. As he explained the process, I simplified it into "ugly" and "pretty" stuff. The demo hacks everything to pieces and the cabinets and flooring polish it all up. The ugly stuff includes about 12 steps, from shoring to flooring. I am still in denial that remodeling is our reality, which Clint reminds me is not on a mindmapped option.

Week 7: High-Fiving Good Time

I just sung an aria, high-fived all our neighbors, and kart wheeled across the lawn. All in celebration of finishing the shingles! I feel like belting Sinatra lyrics from the mountain tops in Julie Andrews style. But the sweetest successes come from labored struggle. Our communication skills provided just such a stretch during this project. Specifically our use of the term "goal". Being a to-do list junkie, I break projects into attainable tasks with timelines called "goals". Clint uses the same term to mean "a general ambition for accomplishment". If he meets his goal, he believes it wasn't set high enough. These two definitions collided in December after I pestered Clint to set a completion date for the shingles. He casually mentioned it would take at least a few weekends. I have no use for modifiers like "at least", so I translated this into an oath of completion in exactly 21 days, or 3 weeks (give or take a few hours). When that magic number 21 was reached, two lonely rows of cedar were tacked up in the back. Not quite what I had on my spreadsheeted goal. Since then, we have committed to a common remodel vocabulary. I'm trying to loosen up, and Clint is explaining plans in terms I can understand. Back to my arias, I'm off to serenade the neighbors with my joyful Buble jingles.

Week 6: Storage Galore

We are lacking many things in our home, but storage is not one of them. Many of our non-functioning appliances serve as impromptu storage. When our oven went kaput, we googled microwave-friendly recipes and brainstormed ways to use the space while we wait for the new kitchen. Then I thought--Tupperware! We now have easy access to containers in all shapes and sizes. Other unusual spaces are our closets. It's amazing how many shirts, slacks, and coats to adults can accumulate. All of these items were homeless until we got creative. Clint hung a handmade ladder his grandpa built from the ceiling. Viola--instant closet! For my clothes, I used another heirloom handmade piece. When Clint's parents came over, they mentioned this heirloom was actually a liquor cabinet. Well, now it stashes my arsenal of sweaters. Our only problem is when friends visit and try finding stuff. Looking for toilet paper? It' sin the out-of-commission Jacuzzi tub, of course.

Week 5: Give Me a Half Glass

Our goal wears a Nike jogging suit, shouting "wake up" with staccato clarity as we snooze Saturday mornings. We huddle up and with bent heads, brush teeth while the goal fiercely whispers our strategy for success. Clint has now completed the back shingling--the mid-mark.

Halfway done is as momentarily satisfying as eating Chinese food. We peruse "before" pictures to remind ourselves of obstacles defeated. The Hardy-Plank siding started while we were still dating. The three coats of color sprayed on before finding Blueberry blue. The arm sling Clint wore while painting the house (don't ask). Is the glass half empty or half full? The whistle-wearing goal says there's no time for philosophy--the front needs our attention.