Construction creates messes. Not the type of messes brushed into a dustpan, but rather the kind best brushed into a pickup truck. Clint’s Uncle Tim came by to do just that with his Red Nissan. He spent the majority of his Saturday hauling loads to the dump. Now we can easily walk on the side of our house without catching our clothes on nails and plywood. We are continually grateful for the support of our family and friends in this messy remodeling process. 
As a child, I loved walking through showrooms and pretending they were homes for my Barbie dolls. I’m a little older now, but I still enjoy those perfectly staged display rooms. Clint and I spent an entire Saturday perusing model kitchens to get ideas for our own. We also broadened our vocabulary with terms like: RTA, Soft Close, and Lazy Susan. I found this last term a tad pejorative, but we ordered one anyway. We’re anticipating cabinets and countertops pleasing to even a picky Barbie or Ken. 
Four feet is the height of an average elementary student. It is also the average height of our lawn. All of our energy is focused on indoor remodels, so our grass had reached jungle status. That was, until, Clint’s mom and Uncle Tim dropped by. They asked for access to the garage for tools, and spent the next several hours buzzing, whacking, and beating down the grass. While awarding them a medal seemed appropriate, we settled on a Qdoba lunch. Now children can safely enter without danger of getting lost in the lawn.
To a couple with dreams of a functional kitchen, a room of dusty drywall is a gypsum palace. After insulation strips were secured, large sheets of gypsum dramatically enhanced the look of the kitchen. Face masks are still needed for any extended period in the room, due to pesky fiber glass and sheetrock residue. Fiber glass insulation looks like oversized strips of cotton candy, but Clint tells me spun sugar is much more pleasant on the tough than shards of spun glass. Either way, the insulation is now hidden behind these lovely gray wall boards. The space once feared by guests is now transformed…almost. And this makes us happy. Lighting is key. Since our bedroom suite is the only completed portion of the house, its illumination is important. Our bedroom blinds were accidentally created when we taped up plastic sheets to protect the windows from exterior paint. These ghetto blinds (covered in blue paint) obscure any true light from entering the room. Lighting existed in extremes: “florescent stadium setting” or “dungeon dark”. My hero, Clint, surprised me one afternoon by installing a dimmer! Now, our sanctuary has those subtle distinctions of “sunrise bright” or “movie theater dim” settings.
Inventors of the 1910s brought us the crossword puzzle and fortune cookie. Innovation with tools, however, was a little lacking. Our house was originally constructed without the apparent aid of a level or plumb. This resulted in “wavy” ceilings. To remedy the rolling wave, Clint measured the height of every square foot in the kitchen and tacked up strips of thin wood in needed areas. “Furring” it is called--not to be mistaken for your local taxidermist. There was no visual change after days of this leveling work. At one point, we just sat amidst piles of sawdust and prayed for endurance. 
