What happened with the kitchen?
I don’t know how to explain what has happened with the kitchen… The closest I can manage is that once Elvis got sick, I started having anxiety. And it just leaked out onto everything… and if the everything was not important (or fancy) I stopped caring about it.
I’m sure you understand that! But it becomes less explainable when you consider that Elvis has been gone for a while now, and I have not gotten my care back.
I do not mean that I have some deep apathy towards life; it’s more like, life is GOOD just.as.it.is.
I am happy exactly where I am: the pajama-pants-version-of-existence.
The idea of firebombing my own inner peace— over something I do not care about, (especially a project of the kitchen’s mess and magnitude) makes me want to lie down in the street and hope that someone runs me over.
I just want to hang out with Paul, and the munchkins of destruction; grow flowers, read, go dancing, wear fun costumes, and occasionally get something giant on Craigslist.
I’m done with anything else life needs from me.
Paul has done a wonderful job of being patient… telling me stories about Elvis, tolerating my endless distractions, flights of fancy, and three-in-the-morning-whims-of-iron.
Occasionally absenting himself, so that RagePaul can visit.
(RagePaul is AngryStainGuy’s angrier brother)
RagePaul feels that life is intolerable because we have not moved forward with the kitchen… and RagePaul’s perspective has clouded mine.
Is this intolerable?
Or?
Is this irrelevant?
When RagePaul is 93, will he still be mad about the kitchen?
(That’s a rhetorical question. He will definitely still be mad.)
But when I am 93? ALLOW ME TO ASSURE YOU: the very last thing that I will spend ANY time thinking about will be this kitchen.
Plus, there is another problem that is happening: when Paul tries to talk to me about the kitchen, my brain slams shut.
I feel like I am being suffocated.
Seeing as how my preferred form of communication is hyperbolic overstatement, you may not realize that I am describing my actual experience without embellishment:
MY BRAIN SHUTS DOWN.
I freeze.
I cannot even hear the words that Paul is saying.
Instead, I hear that clanking-movie-noise when the gate is closing, the spillway is overflowing, the building is on fire, and the door on the alien spaceship is sliding shut.
But instead of sprinting to the exit accompanied by exciting music and explosions, I’m like— WHATEVER. The aliens are totally fine. I’m just going to stay here.
This is deeply unfair to Paul.
And yet, sometimes life is unfair.
If this is the first he is learning about this, I cannot help him.
Compounding my alien-brain-paralysis, is that I am married to someone who is SO DIFFERENT from me, that he cannot relate AT ALL.
In a lot of ways, I think it’s mostly good to marry your opposite… (AS LONG AS YOU ARE THE CRAZY ONE)… But it has turned out that Paul is not simply my opposite; but rather a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT SPECIES; and at this point, I have no idea which of us is entitled to be the way we are.
I mean, it seems reasonable that we are BOTH entitled to our species’ traits; but Paul seems to disagree… and because none of this is legitimate to him, it feels not legitimate to ME… like my own Self should not exist in this way because it is wrong.
And yet!
Like it or not!
HERE I AM!
EXISTING IN THIS SUPER ANNOYING WAY!
Unfortunately for Paul, (the title of my memoirs!) other people’s expectations have never been a determining factor in my personality, and the chances of me reversing course NOW seem REALLY SLIM.
After all, an aardvark does not become a zebra!
It’s a fact.
LEARN ABOUT SCIENCE, PAUL!
At this point, I am unsure if who I am at the core of my being is an acceptable lifeform… or if who I am is an intolerable mess that should be left on the side of the road with a sign that reads: caveat emptor.
Probably the latter… in which case, I won’t begrudge Paul swapping me out for a zebra and enjoying the rest of his days, grazing the plains in peace; enjoying the serenity of an appropriate species-match… luxuriating in the clarity of black and white and never thinking at all of the muddled grey aardvark he booted from the vehicle.
BUT there is a caveat: if he is planning to abandon me freeway-side, he’d best get on it; because I am fast approaching what (I suspect) is a hard and unforgiving wall of sell-by-date, (an event that may have already passed, but I’m fine living here in denial.)
Either way, once I reach it, THERE WILL BE NO REFUNDS and Paul will be stuck with me forever.
I have informed him of this, and offered to make him a countdown clock so he knows how much decision-making time he has left.
It’s a trick though because HONEY, I’M NOT LEAVING.
The offer is just to lull him into thinking he has choices… the illusion of choice is surprisingly satisfying!
Sort of how I think that if Paul leaves me, there will be a silver lining: revisiting the guy not taken… the one who was so interested in sifting through the depths of my life-ineptitude with curiosity and empathy!
WHAT would THAT be like?
To be accepted EXACTLY AS I AM.
I cannot even imagine such a miraculous thing!
And it’s irritating that I cannot even enjoy my nice imaginary-alternate-universe without realizing that sans-Paul, my soul disintegrates into a million useless pieces (and probably goes to jail.)
Thinking about all of the paths not taken does not make me sad or nostalgic… instead it forces me to realize exactly HOW INSANELY LUCKY I AM and that I should definilty TRY NOT TO RUIN the only smart life-choice I ever made: a man who facilitates the growing of kale.
A man who fixed Elvis with duct tape.
A man who tells me that EVEN IN DEATH, I will be overly particular… and that when I get to the River Styx, I will be all— I do not like this boat… do you have another one?
So now I am basically STUCK HERE, because what with his moving of heavyoldthings and fixing of brokenoldthings and also buildingofkittenhammocks, and channelingElvis’smesagesfromthegreatbeyond… Paul has ruined me for ALL OTHER OPTIONS and rather than pinballing through the world, I am forced to STAY HERE AND THINK ABOUT MY FLAWS.
Thanks a lot, Paul.
August 30, 2017 @ 12:19 pm
“A man who tells me that EVEN IN DEATH, I will be overly particular… and that when I get to the River Styx, I will be all— I do not like this boat… do you have another one?”
Girl, forget the kitchen. WHERE IS YOUR BOOK?
August 30, 2017 @ 12:32 pm
And so life goes on and you, you lucky lucky woman, have a life partner who is not only sticking and staying but building you your dream kitchen!! There is no expiration date on loving a person or an animal after they’ve moved on. (wanted to say left us, but they don’t ever really leave us, do they?)
I hope that something shiny (and blue perhaps?) will inspire you to move forward with the kitchen. And that one day soon, one of your fosters will grab your heart in a way that says “let’s stick and stay too!” Sending warm, fuzzy thoughts your way.
Best,
Linda
August 30, 2017 @ 7:15 pm
Lovely reply Linda
August 30, 2017 @ 12:57 pm
EXACTLY!!
August 30, 2017 @ 9:09 pm
Elvis would purfur black. Oh wait, what was the question?
September 1, 2017 @ 1:15 pm
Gotta agree with Roberta! Write! I laugh, no matter what, every time I read something you have written, my goodness you have a way with it! Thank you for being you in all your outrageous glory. Carry on girl you are a wonder!
September 10, 2017 @ 8:27 am
Dear Extraordinaire VEB,
Since the house holds so many memories of Elvis, perhaps it would be better to move?
Or challenge Mr. Barnes to complete the kitchen?
L’chaim!
August 30, 2017 @ 12:21 pm
I like the blue.
August 30, 2017 @ 12:21 pm
Perhaps an interior designer can help you get over your kitchen apathy? Just to make the decisions easier? Love your posts and approach to life!
August 30, 2017 @ 3:12 pm
Lisa! I think you’re right! A designer would allow VEB to say “No!” many times until she gets to “Yes!”
August 30, 2017 @ 12:22 pm
So what color did you decide upon. After all that…
August 30, 2017 @ 12:22 pm
I really enjoy your blog! I have been curious about something though esp given this post. Do you have a job? I mean, i know you must make money from your blog, I meant a job outside of the house. Cheers!
August 30, 2017 @ 7:08 pm
Sorry, but |I am going to say this, even if VEB is too tactful to, but what the f… do you need to know that for??? Are you suggesting that she needs to get a job to help make a decision about the interior of her house?? Or are you saying that she is obsessing too much about this decision? That is none of your business one way or another! Be respectful that this beautiful woman( both inside and out ) is sharing her inner feelings to us! She is wanting advise for decorating and wishing for some support in making her decision. Not a ” what are you doing with your life? Oh and BTW, how much money do you make?” We, as women, as human beings, are all surrounded by enough negativity, that we certainly don’t need to hear it from a stranger that is so willing to write down such flippant and intrusive questions. VEB, I expect you read all of these comments, so if this is not suitable for publishing, please feel free to delete my response, but that was just so damn rude!
August 30, 2017 @ 11:22 pm
Over react much?
August 31, 2017 @ 8:42 am
I agree. Pretty sure Alicia is just trying to get to know VEB a little better, and maybe even have one more thing to admire her for.
August 31, 2017 @ 2:49 pm
I agree. I have been reading for a few years now and have always been curious. We all have lives beyond a blog. Once, VEB mentioned life was crazy and alluded to it being work / career / job / non-house related, what have you.
I literally came back to this comment thread 24 hours after I read it to see if she had answered because frankly, I like her and her writing and am simply curious to what she does. Even if what she does is not have a job. Still cool.
August 30, 2017 @ 12:24 pm
Oh, man. I so relate to much of this. I lost my 20 year old cat and my two (elderly) puppies in a three month span and I’m still just sitting around feeling shell-shocked and numb. I was never good at making decisions, but now when anyone asks me anything I just want to explode at them in anger and irritation, or curl up in a ball under the bed. Or maybe both. I hope we both find a way back. Good luck.
August 30, 2017 @ 12:43 pm
Under the bed is where you will find the best fur bunnies to cry into. It is where I find mine. I have no words except to express my heartfelt condolences.
August 30, 2017 @ 12:25 pm
I love the black with gold accents!
August 30, 2017 @ 12:25 pm
VEB, I get it. I cannot even figure out a new toilet and vanity for our creepy bathroom, after restoring our entire Victorian home. Gads! I too get that suffocated high pitched brain squeal and then just go on to other more important things in life. Such as cleaning up after my 19 year old cat who doesn’t recognize litter boxes any more, before my husband (Paul) sneaks him off to the vet. PS Will someone please tell Thad that there is entirely too much hardware in that kitchen?
August 30, 2017 @ 12:26 pm
And, your original question was……….?
August 30, 2017 @ 12:30 pm
Oh. I thought the story was about choosing between French Blue and Portuguese Blue.
August 30, 2017 @ 12:31 pm
Daffodil yellow. Very soothing.
August 30, 2017 @ 12:34 pm
I love your blog so much. You are a wonderful writer and so funny! I agree with Roberta, you should write a book!
August 30, 2017 @ 12:34 pm
These comments are you, and then Paul. “I know how you feel…” versus “What color did you decide?” This insidiousness of an ongoing, even if it is a “mild”(is there even such a thing?) depression is debilitating. I wish you recovery.
August 30, 2017 @ 12:39 pm
I have been wondering for MONTHS what was going on with your kitchen. I almost emailed you a few times, as if it was any of my business! You left us at the piano island and I still want to see it in its finished glory.
It all makes sense now. 🙂
August 30, 2017 @ 12:40 pm
Grief paralysis is not uncommon. Brain chemistry can be a tricky thing, and this fog of yours may have become your brains ‘new normal’. If that is the case, it may be time to give your brain the equivalent of a triple espresso and talk to your doctor about ways to do that. If nothing else, having an MD science speak to RagePaul may entitle you to breakfast in bed, wine and cheese in the bath, and daily foot massages as a prescription for seratonin boosting. Like any good dictator knows, the support of minions is essential to a well run Queendom.
Speaking of Queendoms, and the kitchens therein, is La Cornue only [hahaha, what I wouldn’t give for ‘only’] doing your stove? Are they willing to throw in any cabinetry? because if so, it may actually make sense to delegate to Paul [?!? the horror] and get that stuff in your house before they change their minds. You can always sell it later if you find a better option. Personally I would go for the blue. I think the blue would be the best match for your piano island. Plus, Blue Suede Shoes = happy Elvis memory. Get the blue. If you change your mind, I will happily come and get it and remove it from your kitchen myself. Yes, the blue one. It would go splendidly in my kitchen. Absolutely the blue. It will also be easier to find other accessories that match. Not that making things easier for oneself should be considered a valid reason to do anything.
Sending hugs and love. From a woman who still cries when unearthing the random dust bunnies of fur left by my recently departed [only 7 weeks] beloved Satchmo, I very clearly feel where you are.
August 30, 2017 @ 1:27 pm
I named my childhood cat Satchmo! I’m so sorry for your loss, saying goodbye to our furry friends is crushing.
September 1, 2017 @ 5:44 pm
Very good advice! And it’s free!
August 30, 2017 @ 12:41 pm
Love all these kitchens….please visit a therapist….life-altering….blue hits every hot button for me….how lucky can you GET???!!!! La Cornue!!! WOW!!!!
August 30, 2017 @ 12:42 pm
❤️
August 30, 2017 @ 12:42 pm
The blue……is perfect
August 30, 2017 @ 12:43 pm
Give and take, that’s the secret to a long life and marriage. You give a little and you get back what you need to take. We love your adventures. I thought I wanted a spectacular stove, but why would I want to be beholden to a stove and chained to a life in the kitchen that I am not suited to in this life. I dont need a million dollar stove to warm up a dinner or make rice and chicken for a sick pet. (Oh I have nursed so many). Thank you for taking us along on your adventures in making your house a home!
August 30, 2017 @ 12:45 pm
You are my people. ✊🏻