Large red bows anchor the fireplace mantle. In-between are three groupings of red apples and lemons, all tucked among sprigs of pine laced with small lights. We put up the Christmas tree, with a red bow on top, in the study yesterday. A much smaller tree, with another red bow, centers the kitchen table. Outside, wreaths (with red bows, natch!) and lights are on the lamp posts and front door.
It's nice, sitting here in the living room, feeling the quiet of small lights.
Last year at this time, this place was a mess. But walls have been painted -- Revere Pewter in the powder room, cut 50% for the upstairs spare bedroom; International Khaki on one wall in the study, its deeper khaki mate in Mr. H's man cave; Svelte Sage in the dining room, cut 65% in the living room; a historic gold (with sage undertones) in parts of the kitchen; and matched white paint elsewhere, including the garage.
We did most of the painting ourselves, including squeezing 17 tubes of caulking as we went along. Appliances and the gas fireplace logs have been replaced. Roller shutters on back doors are in. A fan was installed on the porch ceiling when the lamp posts were installed.
And so it went -- from replacing faucets and overhead lighting and blinds -- to having trees cut down and replanting, putting in flower beds and a rose arbor -- yes, so it went, for a year it seemed to be one project after another. But it finally came together -- and under budget as we did so much ourselves. The house that was a mess turned into a home.
We're settled, not in a castle, but in a home that's our castle, not a fortress -- the spare bedroom is often occupied; people drop by; we chat with neighbors who, like us, chuckle at the constant drip! drip! drip! of pine straw.
But within the projects and goals found among those in our lives here and elsewhere and in both of our families, it's been a good year. Nieces and nephews have accomplished much and continue to work toward goals. Parents are pleased with these firm footings (as they should be!) and reaching out to do things that were put on hold.
It's not that those in my world are unaware of world events and those at home, in the States. They are, very much so.
It's not that they are unconcerned. They are, very much so.
But the prevailing philosophy is, nothing positive gets accomplished if one falls prey to fear.
My grandmother used to say, depending upon the situation:
1. Don't worry so much; you'll get wrinkles;
2. Never believe the one who talks the loudest. He (or she, depending) will make you worry about his/her problems . . . then you've really got a problem;
3. If you've got time to worry, you've got time to mop my floor. (hands mop to worrier)
After mopping more than a few floors, I can honestly say it's difficult to mop and worry at the same time.
But it's also easier to worry than to mop, to which my grandmother said when one took the easy way out: That's a problem of your own making.
It's nice, sitting here in the living room, feeling the quiet of small lights.
Last year at this time, this place was a mess. But walls have been painted -- Revere Pewter in the powder room, cut 50% for the upstairs spare bedroom; International Khaki on one wall in the study, its deeper khaki mate in Mr. H's man cave; Svelte Sage in the dining room, cut 65% in the living room; a historic gold (with sage undertones) in parts of the kitchen; and matched white paint elsewhere, including the garage.
We did most of the painting ourselves, including squeezing 17 tubes of caulking as we went along. Appliances and the gas fireplace logs have been replaced. Roller shutters on back doors are in. A fan was installed on the porch ceiling when the lamp posts were installed.
And so it went -- from replacing faucets and overhead lighting and blinds -- to having trees cut down and replanting, putting in flower beds and a rose arbor -- yes, so it went, for a year it seemed to be one project after another. But it finally came together -- and under budget as we did so much ourselves. The house that was a mess turned into a home.
We're settled, not in a castle, but in a home that's our castle, not a fortress -- the spare bedroom is often occupied; people drop by; we chat with neighbors who, like us, chuckle at the constant drip! drip! drip! of pine straw.
But within the projects and goals found among those in our lives here and elsewhere and in both of our families, it's been a good year. Nieces and nephews have accomplished much and continue to work toward goals. Parents are pleased with these firm footings (as they should be!) and reaching out to do things that were put on hold.
It's not that those in my world are unaware of world events and those at home, in the States. They are, very much so.
It's not that they are unconcerned. They are, very much so.
But the prevailing philosophy is, nothing positive gets accomplished if one falls prey to fear.
My grandmother used to say, depending upon the situation:
1. Don't worry so much; you'll get wrinkles;
2. Never believe the one who talks the loudest. He (or she, depending) will make you worry about his/her problems . . . then you've really got a problem;
3. If you've got time to worry, you've got time to mop my floor. (hands mop to worrier)
After mopping more than a few floors, I can honestly say it's difficult to mop and worry at the same time.
But it's also easier to worry than to mop, to which my grandmother said when one took the easy way out: That's a problem of your own making.
