Windy Weekend

My new definition of weekend: doing all the chores I never have time to do during the week anymore. Which, by and large, is okay right now. The ongoing process of getting settled in our new place continues, and I enjoy getting the counters cleared and wiped off. The sun blazes though the old wavy glass on the old shitty windows and hits the wood, and when it does I want it to gleam. So I sweep- then swiff- then mop. Repeat. At least until I run out of steam. Turning this place into something is going to take a long time.

Last weekend, some family members came to visit and we threw a coat of blue paint over the horrid mauve in the dining room. We were going to throw 2 coats but it began to snow rather fiercely and we got distracted, sipping wine and standing on the porch watching the snow tumble down. Taking photos. The blue looks amazing, and we plan to still add the second coat ourselves. We have this habit of starting projects, getting the area functional and then moving on to the next project. I have paint here for my craft room but have about 76 nail holes in here I need to spackle before I can paint. I also have an art market coming up in a few weeks so I feel like I should be preparing for that first before the room gets torn apart again.

I'm excited about having my own room. A place that inspires me. It's something I desperately need right now. Work drains me of any sense of identity or creativity. I am thankful for this move, and for Joe, whose brains and skills make it possible for us to live in this wonderful old place. I am thinking about the warm weather, about seeing our mystery garden out back begin to bloom and having people over to laugh with us and share the season.