In January we had just settled into our grey house north of town when Dad happened to drive by a bedraggled old farmhouse on his way back from work one day. Curious, he and Mom checked up on it and found it was for sale. Long story short, they fell in love with it - the location, land, and house were perfect for our family, and the dingy white siding and leaky garage roof only served to conceal a well-built house on a strong foundation.
By February we were working on 'the house'. Ripping carpet, gutting the kitchen, painting every conceivable surface, pulling staples, spray painting everything that wasn't painted, moving furniture, lalalala. I'd rather show than tell! Let's start with the play-by-play with the kitchen for this post:
It took a while. Growing up at our old house, the kitchen was the hub of the entire house. Every horizontal surface had a Bible verse to memorize, phone message, grocery list, or a half-finished coloring page. Living here with the kitchen being in such disarray for almost a year was an adjustment, to say the least. (I mean come on, where was I supposed to do my coloring?!) The kitchen remodel was dependent on many other things being fixed, so even though it had the most traffic, it was one of the last rooms to be completely finished. Now that it's done, it almost seems that the interim - the one with seven layers of vinyl flooring being scraped off, leveling the floor, dragging cupboards about, cutting in batten strips and crown molding - never happened. It's a strange feeling, standing in the same place month after month and transforming it into something else completely.