Still just that little girl at the little red table

My new all-encompassing activity of life, from morning until night. Because that's how I do things.

When I was a kid, I sat for hours at the red aluminum child-size card table in one of the two matching red chairs, and colored, painted and drew for hours and hours and hours.

I recently reverted to that little girl when Dorsey surprised me with a "craft" table for Christmas. I actually got it about a week before Christmas, and I knew I was getting it, because Dorsey made it for me. I guess I was spending enough time making messes at the dining room table that something had to change. I've painted A LOT of wooden plaques with game boards, pineapples, sayings, saltbox houses, roosters and chickens ... And, really, where the heck am I supposed to put all of these things?

But that's beside the point. I love my new little red table! I've been spending most of my time at it. I keep thinking that if I spend enough time at artistic endeavors, like I did when I was young, I will get better and better. Maybe I can regain some of that talent I had as a kid. (You know ... if you don't use it, you lose it, right?)

Lisa has seen her sack, but not her gift!

Sadly, I struggle with the same monster that lived in my head as a child — the self-deprecating, mean, evil voice that criticized every effort at every turn. What wasn't good enough then still isn't good enough now. I find that horribly demoralizing, considering the fact that 50 isn't that far away.

I'm not quitting, though, because I still get satisfaction from making these craft table messes ... the same as I did when I was little. I know enough now to understand three things: One, practice will make me better; two, I don't have to listen; and three, depression makes it worse, but this, too, shall pass.

I didn't really know these things as a kid.

Since about the first of November, I've struggled horribly with depression, which is nothing new to me; I've battled it my entire life. It's made its ugly mark on me in countless, destructive ways. This bout is mentionable because it feels worse than usual. My body hurts. My head, my bones, my muscles, my joints, my nerves. Every finger, every toe. Every hair on my head. I've slept a lot ... or at least lounged in bed or on the couch. I've watched every cheesy Hallmark Christmas Movie. It's a good thing I have many pairs of pjs. It's a good day when I take a shower. It's even better if I do my hair and put on a little makeup. (I apologize to anyone I've seen in public. I just haven't given a flying flip, just in case you have. I still had to go to the grocery store and run odds-and-ends errands, whether I wanted to or not.)

It's a good thing I got the Christmas decorations up when I did; otherwise, they wouldn't have happened. For about three to four weeks, I've been relatively worthless in accomplishing anything.

The new little red table.

But I did manage to paint Christmas sacks for wrapping presents. Not all presents, but a few. It provided an interesting solace for me ... after I threw away the first 10 sacks I did. And when I looked at what was most likely number 11 when I saw it again on Christmas Eve, I wondered why I hadn't thrown that one away, either. But I have to admit I've liked some of my creations. I've even wondered whether when Dad died, he channeled his talents back to me? I truly believed I had lost whatever God had blessed me with.)

I had some fun with this one ... and then I almost threw it away.

Painting sacks got me through Christmas. I have to admit I felt the grief of not having my parents here this year even more than last. Maybe I was still in a fog last year? Or maybe I was preoccupied with all the activity I smothered myself in? Whatever ... I felt completely lost this year.

And I will admit that I became one of  millions of scammed Americans recently. I will not share details, but it was related to my antiques business. Almost $1,000 later, I have been left to trust that the FBI is doing something with my tiny, insignificant little report. Somehow, I truly do doubt anything will come of it. I doubt, too, that I will ever know. That, in itself, is depressing.

We also spent $1,000 at the vet's office last week when we learned my precious Jasper has the feline leukemia virus. I had to beat myself up for awhile when I thought I had lagged on kitty vaccinations, but that turned out to be untrue, so at least I could give myself a small break there.

And I'm struggling with other things I cannot control and, thus, must learn to put somewhere in a perspective with which I can live. So I might paint so many sacks I can make a few paper quilts ... I don't know ... because there's a lot of bad stuff going on in the world right now.

What the heck does one do with painted sacks? I know it's a cheap practice medium.
When I went to bed last night, I wanted to throw this sack away. But I woke up
this morning and kept painting dots. 

And as I name a few of these reasons, I need to be firm in saying ... I — and the millions of other people in this world who suffer from depression — don't need a reason to be depressed. I know my life is good. I KNOW THAT.

But that's not how depression ... the mental illness kind ... works. I just happen to have a few reasons to exacerbate the monster's attack. So, yes, I suppose this one does feel a little more powerful than usual.

... God bless all the paper sacks and little red tables in my life!

Stories preserve lives ... so tell them

Oh, how I miss you, Mom and Dad. 

Recently, I was thinking about what I should do with this blog. I started it in dealing with my aging and ill parents, and then it became about them ... and it became wildly popular with all of the people whose lives my parents touched. Writing this blog and hearing the stories about my parents and the people who loved them gave me peace and even joy during that most difficult time of my life. I got to tell my parents' story(s), through me and through those who shared their own memories of my parents.

The single most important thing to me at that time was preserving my mom and dad. I could not bear the thought of their lives ending. I couldn't stand that what was so central to my life was about to be over or, worse, forgotten. I thought that if I could tell and share and hear their stories ... and get it all in writing ... I could save them. I could keep Mom and Dad alive forever.

That's how stories work, right?

To me, nothing in this world is more important than preserving, sharing, respecting and remembering peoples' stories ... their lives. That's all we have — stories. And every story is important. Every story matters. The tears, the joys, the losses, the failures, and the ultimate triumphs. Every person's story shares those same elements. Every life has enjoyed and endured those things. Our stories connect us to one another, from generation to generation to generation ... and they should be told.

Many are, thankfully, and that's how we are blessed with the books and movies we love so much. Of course, true stories of real people come alive in books and movies, but even fiction is based in fact. And every fictional character represents someone real.

So during that time of caring for my parents and subsequently writing posts for this blog, I preached that people should start gathering, saving, writing down ... everything possible ... those things that represented the lives of those important to them, especially for the older folks. I still believe this is a most important task and encourage all who can to do so for their loved ones ... and for themselves. I'm glad to say my kids and future grandkids will get to hear and see lots of stories about Jim and Nicki.

Clearly, my mother valued stories, as well. (She was quite the reader and book lover ... and had her master's degree in library science.) In 2007, she started a blog — Reflections on the Way We Were: Childress High School Class of 1963, that ran for several years. She and her classmates reflected on their lives and history. They shared their current lives with one another, as well. Those writings for all those years in that blog and the subsequent blogs along the way contain valuable history and stories about those people, as well as a ton of wisdom and insight! (Check out the "1968" post.)

How awesome is that!?

On Thanksgiving this year, Jennifer Johnston, one of my mother's classmates who wrote and administered the blogs with my mom, sent me a memory my mother had shared in the comments of one of the posts. Mom wrote about what Jordie and Cole were thankful for at that time in their very young lives, and, of course, it was cute. Jordie and Cole gave my parents so much joy.

I cried, of course. I shed tears of loss, but also of gratefulness. Tears that needed sharing in my still very raw grief. (I'm beginning to wonder whether it will ever end ... )

Jennifer has decided to close out those special blogs. They will still be available for anyone to read and/or stumble upon someday, but she is writing an "ending" that proves to be more central and uplifting than what has seemed lately like an endless line of obituaries for their class of 1963. I mean, really, how depressing is that? Jennifer is doing the right thing. Our lives are more than the endings!

I am so very grateful my mother had the foresight to create those blogs! She and those who shared of themselves and their memories helped preserve lives and history. She and they have given me and others stories. Of real people. Of real lives. Of real sorrows. Of real triumphs.

And, who knows? Maybe someone will come across those blogs dedicated to that small and special Childress Class of 1963 and transform the tales into something others might someday enjoy on a big movie screen. Why not? How else do stories come to life for all to enjoy and relate?

It's certainly something to ponder. And, again, please consider the task of preserving the lives of you and your loved ones ...

As for this blog ... I still don't know.

I'm just thankful for all the stories that get me through everyday life and connect me to you. Grief certainly makes life lonely sometimes.

Trip highlights (sort of)

This is one of the many antique shops we visited in Wiscasset, ME. 

It's been more than a month since my last post. During that time, I spent two weeks on my trip east —half of it with Jordie and half of it with Kim. 

On the first half of the trip, Jordie and I drove to Chicago to sightsee and watch a Cubs game. Then we headed toward Baltimore to catch an Orioles game at Camden Yard, which is a super nice field. The game was fun, but it wasn't as awesome as Wrigley Field in Chicago, with all the crazy, screaming fans. 

After our Baltimore and Chicago (mis)adventures (driving in downtown areas pulling the trailer, I might add), we headed to Boston to do the touristy things. LOVED it! But I wish we had had more time.  I definitely want to go back.

Don't ask about our drive through New Jersey and New York City. HIDEOUSLY stressful. By the way, Gov. Christie is a thief. Those New Jersey toll fees are criminal. We paid $50 at one of them!! I don't know why, either, because the state's roads are terrible. Is all that money padding politicians' pockets, instead of going to road maintenance???

Kim and I sat at a little cafe for lunch in Townsend, MA. Lots and lots of little white churches in the Northeast.

Jordie and I had a great time at the awesome Wrigley Field. 

One of many fancy homes in Martha's Vineyard.

Jordie flew back to Amarillo from Boston, because school started in a couple of days for him, and Kim met up with me in Boston. Kim and I began the "girly" and antique portion of the trip with our Boston Harbor (Hahba) cruise and then our drive to West Townsend, MA. 

From Massachusetts, we headed up into Maine so I could shop at all the places I've only seen and heard about. I felt all giddy and like a kid in a candy store the whole time. Poor Kim. She's not into my kind of early American antiques. But she was a trooper anyway. 

This is the red-painted hutch table and yellow Samuel Gragg elastic back Windsor chairs I picked up in Massachusetts. 

We ate lobster rolls, and I don't even like lobster. These surprised me so much that I ate them at two different places. We saw so many beautiful homes and landscapes, I didn't want to come home. I wanted, instead, to tell Dorsey to pack up and move us to Maine. He would never, of course. 

I guess I'll just make another trip or two in my lifetime ...

After spending two nights in Portland, ME., which I really enjoyed and could have spent more time, Kim and I headed to Falmouth, MA., where we took the ferry across to Martha's Vineyard. We spent a day sightseeing MV,  and then it was time to head back home ... for two-and-a-half days.

The overall trip was great. I enjoyed everything we did, but I could have spent so much more time at each place. I felt disappointment at leaving each destination — except Baltimore. Baltimore scared the crap out of me. I learned, too, to avoid busy cities when pulling a trailer. Way too scary. I mean, really really scary. 

I also learned I need to learn to back up the trailer, even though I don't like it. To me, the best way to back up a trailer is to not have to. 

I found, too, that I can do just about anything scary (i.e., out of my comfort zone) I make myself ... I drove almost 5,000 miles. Just me. I didn't let Jordie or Kim help. (Audio books are the best.) 

Kim and I headed home by way of the southern states until we got to Flower Mound, where I dropped Kim off, spent the night and headed home. 

I missed my family and my zoo!  

Allie was so clingy when I got home. 

Max has sat in the water bowl since he was little. I don't think he realizes he's getting too big.

Emma's all snuggled up to Indy.

These three pups love one another.

It's been nice to be home — although I'm already thinking about the next trip east, next summer! It was that impressive to me.

I'll write a new post in a couple of days about what's been happening since that trip ... like painting projects and an antique show.  And Mama Kitty. 

More pics, too. 

Next up: Trip of a lifetime

Early Sunday morning, I begin my big journey east ... because I "have to" pick up some antiques I bought in Massachusetts way back in December.

But Dorsey can't go with me because he started a new job not that long ago — although he could go if he wanted, but it just wouldn't be right, you know? 

From the start, I've had absolutely no qualms about traveling that far by myself ... in my truck and pulling my trailer. I think that maybe, besides getting to have amazing antiques in my house and always searching for even better ones, the best part of being an antiques dealer is traveling to all the places I only dreamed about as a child. Maine is one of them. 

Ever since I saw the movie "On Golden Pond," (1981 ... I was 13), I've wanted to go to Maine. In my mind at the time, I never imagined in a million years I would get to go to Maine. Maine was like a whole different country ... even though it's super close to a whole different country. (Yes, I know "On Golden Pond" was not actually set in Maine. But, to me at the time, Maine and New England were synonymous. I think "On Golden Pond" was actually set in New Hampshire?" Someone Google it for me. I'm too lazy.)

Seeing Maine was so important to me that my first fiance (back when I was only 22) planned our honeymoon to Maine. That's how he proposed to me, in fact ... with a Maine travel guide. 

That marriage and that trip never happened.

But 25 years later, Maine is.

First, however, I get to hang out with my 21-year-old baseball playing, baseball loving son. 

So Sunday morning, Jordie and I set out toward Chicago, where we will watch the Cubs play the Brewers at Wrigley field. And while we're there, we will "do" Chicago as much as a day-and-a-half will allow.

Then we will head toward Baltimore by way of Pittsburg first, so that we can see the Orioles play the Astros a few days later. 

(Did I mention that one of the best days of my life — EVER — Hands down — Was when Jordie and I saw the Mets play in NYC while Dorsey worked in nearby Connecticut? Yes. As the song played on the train there that day, "This is gonna be the best day of my lii-ii-ife," it truly was an amazing day.)

After that, Jordie and I head to Boston and spend what little time we have left (a little more than a day)  to experience whatever we can. (Yes, we will be pulling a trailer, and that scares the ever-livin' daylights out of me. But I have confidence ...) 

And, yes, sadly, we're kind of blowing through NYC since we've already gotten to do that, but not Boston. It's just a reality of time and money.

On the 21st, Jordie has to fly back home so he can get back to school. 

BUT ... graciously, my sister flies into Boston about the same time Jordie flies out so that I don't have to finish the last leg of the trip alone. (What? Do people think I can't handle it? Pee Shawwww! I've been pushed out of my comfort zone so many times in the past couple of years, I'm pretty sure I can do anything as long as God (and AudioBooks) is (are) driving ... )

So when Kim gets to Boston, we chill in Boston then head for West Townsend, Massachusetts, so that I can retrieve my goods. We will take it all in there ... and then the fun really begins!

Maine, Maine, Maine. Antiques. Antiques. Antiques. I have it all mapped out.

And when I'm finished doing my thing in Maine, we do Kim's thing at Martha's Vineyard ... not that I'm opposed or anything ... before we head back to the great state of Texas. 

It will take us roughly two-and-a-half days from Massachusetts to Flower Mound, where Kim gets home and I take a nap for the night before heading back to Amarillo.

Two weeks. Two whole weeks to explore much of the eastern part of the United States I've never had the opportunity to see. 

Yes, it's a big deal for a poor kid from Amarillo. I do mean poor. Ask my parents. They'll vouch for me. 

I do believe God gives us the (pure) desires of our hearts ... no matter how many years down the road it takes.

So far, God is batting 1000 in my heart's desires. Maine (and all the rest of the New England states and southeastern states that I someday get to explore further) is one of many. 

(So let me just add another thoughtful addition to this already lengthy explanation of my life's planned-yet-unplanned journeys: Just in case without my knowledge it's my time to go and I don't get to see the rest ... that's OK, I still get to see all the rest!)

In the meantime,  I plan to come back with plenty of photos and stories about this trip. 

Thank you thank you thank you, God. You have every idea how much this means to me. :-)

Can't believe it's happening ... have you ever really stopped and thought about the course of your life ... CRAZY and unexpected, for sure.

... but I'm going to miss Dorsey and my zoo so much! 

The birth of a redneck designer: Red brick floors can make a girl crazy (er)

I've been busy. I mean, really busy. I've been busy making myself crazier and crazier.

I've been painting cabinets and kitchens and furniture. I've been redecorating. In truth and fact, I'm not even a Martha Stewart type, and I've never aspired to be.

None of this was ever supposed to happen!

All I wanted was a new brick kitchen floor. That's it! I've wanted that for 14 years! But the floor turned into counter tops, which turned into backsplash that didn't work with the current cabinets like I imagined — so I antiqued those — and that turned into kitchen walls that didn't work ... so I repainted those, even though we had just repainted them two years earlier!

Everything has ridiculously snow-balled on me.

This pic isn't even close to the beginning, but what the heck? I'll start here. A few photos down, you will see the headboard Dorsey built (because he loves me) and that I painted. (Did I mention I found this headboard design at 3 a.m. one night when I couldn't sleep because I was stressed out by all of this unfinished business?) The headboard is not attached yet because Dorsey is a busy guy (and the fact that it's not attached is gnawing at me)! This is the guest room decoration I've settled on ... for now. :-) It's not quite country and it's not quite Victorian. It's just new old. And I still need to paint the window's original shutters white and which are currently green, which will end the current reign of the lacy curtains.

The top of the bookshelf, and the bookshelf. I've had this thing for 20 years, just plain pine. It's been in every room in the house, plus an apartment, a house and two apartments before that. Now it's part of my extended closet (behind my real closet and Dorsey's real closet in a space that's been everything from an office to a closet to a place for my mom when she was sick to a mom cave and back to a closet/office/mom cave of sorts.)

I bought the little server on the left for cheap ... because it would fit my current need for my current extended closet space. (It's filled with shoes, and other miscellaneous matter.) I don't like shabby chic, so I redid the piece in this green ... which will match the eventually newly painted sage green accent walls in my extended closet and bathroom. 

When I bricked the bathroom (because we had extra from the kitchen) floor, the coastal decor I settled on last year no longer seemed right, so I decided to make it look like the rest of the house is shaping up to be ... early American. Except ... all my other early American stuff does not allow for bright white, and I did NOT want to repaint the bathroom walls. We had just done it! So, I ordered a new shower curtain and some artwork, but it was all wrong. So I ordered a new shower curtain to match the darker hues of the new artwork. And then I realized if I put it up with the art work I had bought, I would have to repaint the walls because the stark white would clash. So ... to avoid that, I sent the second new shower curtain back and made my own checkerboards to keep the first new shower curtain. Now, I can maintain the bright white.  Except ... 

To keep the whole early American theme going, I have to change out the bathroom hardware ... which I have bought and am waiting installation by my very busy husband, which, like the headboard, gnaws at me. Next on the bathroom list is a new mirror and sconces. More country. For now, I've just darkened them. And my stomach is churning.

Dorsey built this headboard for the guest bedroom.

It took 7 steps to distress it with the blue underneath. My body is paying today for all the squatting and Twister-like positions such work required. 

I bought the cheap dresser pictured on the left for cheap. Again, I don't like shabby chic, personally, so, I painted, distressed and changed out the hardware of this chest of drawers for my extended closet space. The drawers are full of closet-like junk. Same with that book shelf, pictured above.

And in my extended closet is a special little space below the window, but it's also an awkward kind of area. In a continuing effort to maximize the space we have in the house (without knocking down any walls), plus find a place for all of the necessary junk I need on hand (bills to pay, business stuff to deal with before it all goes upstairs to the main office), I decided a desk would be best ... plus it allows the beer and Diet Coke fridge a space. I got the black desk for cheap and distressed it.  So why is everything black? Because, when Dorsey and I redid our bedroom and bathroom a few years ago, we painted the shutters and moulding and cabinets black. I'm not repainting all that! Not! Instead ... I'm going to later tackle distressing all that black ... to look like the three pieces of furniture I just added to the extended closet, and to go with the whole "my house is really old" theme. Do you see how this has all made me crazy!?

In the middle of everything, I decided — because it was so much fun the first time — I wanted to make more checkerboards ... and sell them. (Have you seen all the different "buy, sell, trade" groups on Facebook?)

All the of the above have been practice pieces (all the way to the very top of this blog) ... some of which I'm trying to sell ... on those FB groups, of course. And what am I practicing for? Why, the giant TV cabinet I have ordered from the Amish, of course. To go with the rest of the look of the house I'm trying to create. Of course. You see, I hate the look of the TV and all of the TV paraphernalia and junk. I want it covered up. I want it behind closed doors. So I sent the guy a picture of a cabinet we already have from the 1800s. It's been 12 weeks and gets here Friday. I'm painting it as best I can possibly do to make it look like a real antique. I doubt that will happen, but after all this, who can fault my effort? (Because in addition to all the pieces of furniture I've painted (and cabinets), I've painted/distressed and waxed little wooden blocks.)

Here's another crazy-making piece. Once upon a time, I painted this little TV stand red. For Jordie and me, when we lived in this little apartment I thought was so cute. (It was.) Jordie and Hart had that TV stand forever. In red. But when Mom and Dad died, and I wanted to redo that really dark and dingy room the boys each once had, I just had to create a room I thought Mom would like. I used one of her quilts. And I painted that TV stand to match it and the rest of the room. But then ... Jordie was going to visit way more often than I originally understood when I transformed the room from his high school stomping grounds to a guest room. The room, as I made it, was really feminine. I felt bad that Jordie would be in such a feminine room. So I got a different quilt (the room is staying bright, dangit!). And the newly painted TV stand no longer worked. So ... I redid it. Again. And you know what? I was never happy with any of the rugs I got for that room after I redid it. So I kept getting rid of them. (Those FB sales groups.) I landed on the one pictured at the top, and I LOVE that one. But ... the bed didn't have a headboard. You already saw that story. And while the room still might be slightly feminine, I think once I get those dang shutters painted and back in place, all will be right with my world. For now.

Last, and certainly not least ... here is the cheap little desk I bought for cheap to first start practicing for the great big important cabinet that's finally getting here on Friday. I painted this once gray desk with ugly hardware to go with my early American look and stick in the laundry room to replace the ugly, white utility table. After all the HGTV I had watched, I suddenly became unhappy (er) with my silly little laundry room with the nasty carpet and litter boxes. So ... while we were having the new brick floor installed there, too, I worked on that desk to replace the utility table.  It now holds light bulbs and paint brushes and sand paper. EVERYTHING IN THIS HOUSE NOW HAS A PLACE! 

But I'm not finished! The oh-so-important TV cabinet gets here Friday, and I leave Sunday for a two-week trip. When I get back, I will paint that ... and I will repaint the master bathroom, bedroom, and extended closet.

Because I'm crazy.

And just in case you think otherwise, none of this escapes me as being entirely first world privileged problems. 

No, I'm not really ashamed. I'm blessed. And it's an awesome escape from the insanity of our country's politics. 

Puppy Land

It just doesn't get much better

Dorsey and I were out on our usual morning walk with Indy this morning, and we came to the conclusion that after much heartache, and then after much questioning about whether we had done the right thing in bringing new puppies into Indy's life, everything is all good again.

Indy is back to his old, playful self. At the ripe old age of 8, Indy never had grown out of puppyhood. But when Koda died, his spirit seemed to, also. We've done everything we could think of to revive him. All the love and attention and special treats and walks and grooming and whatever Indy's little heart desired didn't give us back Indy's happy disposition.

As you know, we brought Emma and Max into the pack. For a while now, we haven't been so sure this was the right move for Indy. He's been nothing short of a grumpy old man.

But we labored on ... until we finally realized that not only was Indy playing with the pups, he was instigating play sessions. (I have video to prove it.) 

For a good week now, we have noticed a lightness to his step on the walks, a smile and brightness in his eyes and true enjoyment and desire to be with the puppies. 

That could not make us happier. Now we have three amazing puppies. Life is crazy and hectic in our house, but it certainly is fun and lively! 

I hope Indy will be around many more years with us now. :-)

Never a dull moment, part 3: MAX

This is the day Max came to live with us. He's really not grumpy.

Our lives have been so busy and crazy, I haven't had the energy to post ...  but here I am because little Max deserves the attention, too.

Two weeks after we got Emma, little Max came to live with us. His name is actually Max Chumlee. Yes, Jordie approves of the Chumlee part. 

He's never had trouble relaxing.

Picture pose.

He's hilarious, really.

Max and Emma surveying their domain. 

Anyway, Max is just about the sweetest thing ever. It took me two seconds to fall in love with that little face. Together, Max and Emma are perfect. They play and play and play and play ... and sleep. And then it starts all over again.

Indy is coming along. He's glad they bug each other more than they bug him. He's somewhat of a grumpy old man, though. As a result, Dorsey and I do everything we can to shield him and to pay special attention to him. Indy gets his own walks, and he gets to sleep with us. The little ones don't. 

And, Indy is finally being more playful with them. I think the situation will be about perfect when the babies are less rambunctious. 

One thing is absolutely certain. The puppies love Indy. Max sleeps cuddled next to him as much as possible. Emma is nose to nose with him.

Dorsey is in dog heaven.

For now, we are super busy tending to our circus and our monkeys. It's a wild ride!

Never a dull moment, part 2

I never intended to antique my cabinets ...  I only meant to patch a hole in the wall ... 

I have lots of thoughts about HGTV, but I'll just say this for now: I love it and I've created a mess in my house and in my head because I watch too much of it. (Chip and JoAnna, and Drew and Jonathon. Love them!)

On top of a new puppy (another of which will be here TOMORROW), we are in the middle of some remodel jobs. We already did the kitchen floor ... but then everything grew from there. Without knocking down any walls (yet), we have decided to update and do the best we can with what we've got ... both to enjoy now and in the event we ever move. 

Anyway, I'm going to tell the rest of this story in pictures. MY OCD-ness has just about driven me over the edge. I sincerely need my house to get back together soon. And I do mean NEED.

After the kitchen floor, we decided to go ahead and move forward with granite countertops and a travertine backsplash. This resulted in me thinking my cabinets no longer looked right, so I took on the project of antiquing them (see pic above). Still not finished, by the way. 

Backsplash gets installed and the kitchen countertops have to be cleared off. Mess everywhere.

Kitchen cabinet stuff in the dining room, AND my project for the laundry room that is also being redone with the same brick floor as the kitchen. See pics to follow.

Cleared out the laundry room. Moved everything (cat litter stuff) to Dorsey's office.

Dorsey really enjoys sharing space with cat crap.

And so we decided to also brick the upstairs bathroom, which of course, required removing cabinets and the toilet. Guess where they are?

Why yes, there IS a toilet in the bedroom. (And that toilet is about to end up by the Dumpster because we decided to get a better one. Isn't that romantic?)

The price outside of regular dollars for this project is temporary (I hope) insanity and stressed out pets.