Kitchen planning frustration — I’ll be William Wallace. Paul can be the Irish guy.

Paul and I spent Saturday discussing the kitchen… Or rather, we began a conversation about the kitchen which morphed into generalized irritation, which seamlessly merged into every fight we have ever had about anything house-related.

The kind of irritation that makes you want to lay down on the floor in surrender and say– I give up. You win. This entire conversation is all yours.

Knock. Yourself. Out.

But instead you tiredly suit up for combat because for some reason you must defend the honor of your irritation.

Planning our DIY kitchen remodel – let the relationship-stress begin.

Braveheart/our living room

Wow. This is totally fascinating… keep reading.

Nine years of wedded bliss… AND a video.

Paul and I are on vacation this week… We’re celebrating nine years of being married.

Nine years of being amazed at how lucky I got.
Nine years of wondering if he listens to a word I say.
Nine years of Paul failing to appreciate my talent for micromanagement.

Nine years of me having 1,237,894% more to say about any given topic than Paul is actually interested in hearing.

Dancing at our wedding reception... at the Hotel DuPont, Gold ballroom—gorgeous wedding venue. Wow. This is totally fascinating… keep reading.

DIY house renovation— a death-defying stunt for your marriage.

Two posts ago, I went back to the beginning of our house renovation—how my husband and I decided to buy an old house and fix it up… a decision based around the front-door’s antique hardware.  And an imaginary before-and-after picture that lived in my head—a picture designed by a DIY-enthusiasm that came from not ever having fixed anything.

We thought it was a good idea to move into a crumbling Victorian house… restore it… do all the work ourselves… while living here.

If you missed:
Part One, we tour the house and decide to buy it.
Part Two, we move, begin renovation, and reality sets in.

This is Part Three, where I realize the true meaning of fixing up an old house.

For the first two years, there were always multiple rooms with “containment issues”  Meaning:  one part was “livable” and the other was trashed.  Destroyed.  An explosion of plaster and lath and 120 years of dust.

And we were always trying to keep the “trashed” part separate.  Or?  One of us was: me.
The other of us thought containment was over-rated.

The other of us thought the ONLY acceptable use of time was action… To wade in and just GO.

Husband and wife DIY renovation of an old Victorian house.  Mess, and dirt are stressful to marriage. Wow. This is totally fascinating… keep reading.