Everything is unfinished. I think it’s a little bit okay.

So I painted the kitchen.  For the third time in six years.  I’m just not hitting the nail on the head with colors it would seem.  I’m not real satisfied with this custard color, either.  But it dawned on me that I think it’s because of the black granite.  And the black appliances.  So I suggested that we replace the granite and get stainless steel appliances but The Man didn’t really think that was prudent. 

So I came across this idea to put beadboard above the counters.  Holy moly do I love this idea.  Unfortunately, there is no way I could possibly do it myself because there are about nine outlets above the counters, and there is no way I’m cutting out all those little holes with a jigsaw which I’m quite certain I’ve never used before, and then pulling out the electrical stuff and putting in spacers and all that.  So that means I have to pay someone.  I wonder what this guy is going to charge.  I’ll tell you that there is probably no way I’ll be getting any beadboard this year. 

Anyway, so this morning I spent cooking braised chicken with summer tomatoes.  It smells awesome in here, let me tell you.  And I’m going to make some seriously creamy mashed potatoes to serve as a bed for the chicken. 

All the while this cooking was going on, the children were fighting.

Then I made some orange mint iced tea. 

And the children were fighting.

Then I watered the flower beds and all of the potted plants because it will be over 100 today and they are suffering.  The children played playdoh while I tried to save my basil. 

And the children fought.

Then we made little pizzas for lunch.  They liked that.

Then I declared it to be quiet time, or else I might go crazy.  They were quiet.

I decided to pay bills.  I found a mysterious charge on the discover card.  The Man said he didn’t have the “foggiest idea what that was for.”  Nor did I.  So I disputed the charge.  Then The Man remembered what it was for five minutes after I disputed it.  So I undisputed it. 

I stripped the beds, and washed the sheets, and went through the bazillion books that Ella has to see if there is anything we really don’t need.  Because it is starting to appear as though a book hoarder lives in her room. 

Now here I sit.  We decided to stay home from the pool because #4 seems to have a little sunburn.  (I am happy to take recommendations for sunscreens for little redheaded children.  I have not found one that works well yet.)  We are stuck inside because it is so stinking hot out. 

I have a million pictures to go through. 

I want to take more…pictures of the kids jumping.  Do you think I could get one of them all four jumping at the same time?  Yeah, it’s doubtful.  

Then there is this…I started a cross stitch about 3 1/2 years ago.  Three and one half YEARS, people.  It was for baby Ella.  (Who is now preschool Ella, of course).  Well anyway, there are over 39,000 stitches involved here.  I figure if I do 112 per day, I’ll be able to finish it by her 4th birthday.  I’ll get it framed and then it’ll pretty much go into her closet because you know, she’ll be a big girl and won’t want the baby cross stitch thingy.  (It’s The Frog Who Would A-Wooing Go, and if I’m being honest I bought it totally because I liked the name.  I had no idea how incredibly complicated this thing would be.) 

Then of course are the school memory books that I haven’t put together, and the baby books and the denim rug I started and the baby quilts I want to make out of their old clothes (but of course first I must learn how to quilt), and the jam that I’m going to make–any day now.  And soap.  I need to make some soap.  All of this stuff. 

I can’t seem to finish anything.  Sometimes just thinking about it makes me feel like I’m breathing heavy air.  But I know all of it can wait, truly.

Maybe tonight I’ll sit out on the stoop with a chilled glass of wine.  By then it’ll only be around 90 sweaty degrees.  I’ll watch the bees and the butterflies. 

I’ll sigh over the deer and the bunnies that will not leave my lillies alone.

I’ll try to hear the birds over the hum of the air conditioners.

And I’ll watch the sun go down on another day.  And thank God for another day.

Everything is unfinished. I think it’s a little bit okay.

6 thoughts on “Everything is unfinished. I think it’s a little bit okay.

  1. Man, I feel lazy reading this. I did nothing today…well we hit the pool again and that about sucked all the energy out of me. I don’t have redheads 😉 but my friend swears by California Baby sold at our favorite Tar-jay.

  2. What is beadboard? If I lived closer, I would help you tackle that project. Not because I have jigsaw experience. Or because I know how to put a backsplash on anything. But it sounds fun 🙂

    And don’t go sit on your porch. It’s too muggy. Stay inside where it’s cool, put some earplugs in your ears (because I bet your kids are still fighting, right?), and ignore the deer and bunnies.


  3. I have to say I started to feel a little anxiety knot in my stomach as I read this — it sounds so much like my life for the past 18 years. I am not kidding when I say that I put my cross-stitch stuff away when the tall boy (now 18 years old) started to toddle because I didn’t want him to get into it and get poked. And I haven’t gotten it out since, even though I was in the middle of a beautiful and complex image of “The Lily Maid of Astolat.” I still miss her.

    And the memory books, and the quilting, and you left out trying to be proactive for once in my life about Christmas . . . .

    OK, I have to go because my ulcer is acting up!

  4. Whoa. That was quite a post. But I’m glad you got that off your chest.

    I can’t help with the beadboard. Or the fighting children. HOWEVER, what I wouldn’t give to have you for a neighbor. Our kids could distract each other from the fighting and I would bum chicken, creamy mashed potatoes and chilled wine off of you. Only I’d bring my own chilled bottle so we could have double. Oh, and I’d bring dessert, too. Neighborly and all…

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