Wonderful Weekend

This is what I spent hours doing yesterday and today. With WRIF blasting on the radio. It went a hell of a lot faster today with Tim laying out the tiles on our plywood work table and brushing the loose flakes, dirt and dust off them, so I could just roll on the sealer. In his estimation, we have not quite reached the halfway point (*cries*). On the one hand, the variation in this product is absolutely amazing. We've got every color in the rainbow, and so many varying textures and veining in each tile. I've segregated my favorites for the backsplashes in the kitchen. These are gorgeous. On the other hand, this is going to be a tile setter's nightmare. They aren't all the same thickness. The colors vary so wildly, is our floor going to look like a crazy patch-work quilt of leftovers? What if, for instance, Tim and I make up a couple of gallons of sangria, and hire a troupe of Spanish flamenco dancers to perform in our finished basement? That floor is going to get beaten to smithereens. Just brushing some of the tiles is enough to loosen flakes and pieces from the tiles. *groans* This is what you get with a natural product.

Today we ordered our kitchen cabinets from IKEA, an ordeal that took about 2 hours. I was about to drop the F-bomb filling out the forms, until we ran into the helpful Rebecca who helped us translate our item list onto the order sheet, and even caught a couple of oversights. By the time we finished standing in the line to arrange home delivery, we had to break speed limits to get home in time to meet Karl, who had arrived with a load of drywall and let him into the basement (this is getting to be an all-too familiar pattern). Today we decided Tim is just going to unlock the walkout door when he gets home from work in the wee hours so Karl can come in at 7, {or 6 or 5am} and start as early as he wants. You know, I'm about to offer the spare bedroom to Karl. I swear, he's here more than he is in his own house. The silence is deafening the few hours of the day he's not here. I'm beside myself the one day of the week he's actually *not* here, hammering and pounding and stapling and welding and wiring and questioning... Which was supposed to be today.

Yes, I've had a couple of moments in the last month where I've asked what the hell are we doing? Why are we doing this? This is serving no one but ourselves. No one asked us to do this. This is hideously expensive. This is decadent, and vulgar (*two* kitchens in the house?? You bitch!!)

In an unrelated, living-on-the-edge question: Are the food police going to come after me for using beef stock and Syrah in a risotto?



It was damn good, if a bit odd colored. I added some asparagus, and the last of my dried 'shrooms purchased from 99 Ranch in San Diego. We served it with some rare tuna steaks on the grill. With no music but the chorus of frogs peeping out at the back of our property in the warm spring air.