Now You Can See It

It's tough to get a full view--but this is fairly good.

Note--this kitchen is now in use...knives, coffee pot, coffee grinder!

A cabinet over the refrigerator--a new item. And things previously stored on top of the frig are now nicely tucked away.

A fun corner cabinet--perfect for coffee mugs.

This is a kind of "before" photo--all the open counters with nothing on them. That soon changed.

Woo hoo--trash and recycle bins tucked away.

The highly popular storage cabine, just waiting to be filled.

Yes, you are correct--the coffee pot shown here is NOT the same as the one in the top photo--new kitchen, new coffee pot. ;-)

Note the one essential in our house--an electric tea kettle.

OK--enough said (and shown).

The next entry from the kitchen will be the return of Saturday soups. Stay tuned.

How to get a new kitchen...

This post is about a lot of hard work--and I can't really claim to have done to most of it. After living in our house for 30 years, we decided to have our galley style kitchen, pictured below, entirely rebuilt.

First, we contacted a kitchen designer, and then hired a local builder who, along with his brother and step-father, did almost all the work. These men had wonderful work habits--arriving most days at 8, and frequently not leaving until 5. That meant long days for us, mostly trapped on our sun porch with the frantic dog. The dog probably suffered the most as she was terrified by the BANG BANG of the nail gun. She would tremble, drool, and in general be totally miserable.

But this post is not about the dog, but about our emerging kitchen.

The first step was to rip out the old cabinets--just like that! GONE.

Then the appliances went. And, as the pipes were being moved, the workers made gaping holes in the walls to locate the existing pipes.

Never fear--what gets torn out can also be rebuilt. Here the walls are once again sealed up.

Additionally, a partial wall was extended, to make room for a pantry style storage cabinet to be installed next to the existing refrigerator.

The walls are now ready for painting--my husband and I were the painters. That's how we spent last weekend--priming and painting walls.

Meanwhile, all kitchen items had been moved into the garage. I planned to make that a make-shift kitchen for the duration. Well...

I had not counted on the workers using that as a make-shift building location. Saw-dust flying everywhere. At least the toaster worked, and I could get to a few essential items: knives, paper towels and Pam.

Getting there. New cabinets go in; new sink in place.

Now we're really moving along--faucet hooked up.

And finally, the microwave and new range in place.

From start to finish--the work part of the project took two weeks. We had done advance planning, however. Beginning back in August, we got a design. We picked cabinets. We got bids from several potential builders. And I went appliance shopping when sales were on, and had the place hold them until we were ready for delivery.

We only changed one decision once things were underway--we switched to lighter color cabinets, to match the wood in our dining room and living room.

My favorite parts of the new kitchen? I have several--first, a galley kitchen became an L shaped kitchen. Amazingly, in the same amount of floor space, we have a more spacious kitchen. Second, the old cabinets were 30 inches high; the new ones 36. I can't reach the top shelves just standing, but a small stool--and I can get there. So upper cabinets now house rarely used items. Third, the sink is on a diagonal--that's a fun touch. Finally, I even got a storage cabinet with 5 pull-out shelves.

New kitchen--woo hoo!

Next post will just be a photo gallery.

Exhausted...

Of late, I have been somewhat remiss making the rounds of my blog friends. I am sorry. I have been a bit distracted.

There was the wedding--already noted here. And then there is the kitchen redo--currently ongoing.

Now, I admit, I am doing NONE of the work on the redo. We have two brothers who have come in--they are custom builders, meaning simply they do work when contracted to so do; they no longer work on speculation. So, while they still build entire houses, they only do that when someone contracts with them to do that. As you might expect, business has been a bit slow for them.

So when we went looking for a builder to redo the kitchen, we came upon their names, by way of referral. What a great job they are doing. A future post will detail the project a bit more, complete with photos.

Here's why I am exhausted--I have too many balls in the air. This business of being retired is crazy. People have always told me that--and, truth be told, at first it was NOT so. I officially "retired" in 2002. I had not planned to retire exactly when I did, but the company I worked for thought it was a good idea.

So, when I first began time at home--and before I started teaching in my adjunct capacity--I had time on my hands. Days crawled by. I always thank our dog for keeping me on an even keel. She was thrilled to have me home, and thought 4 or 5 walks a day were a grand idea.

Well, those days of little on my hands are gone. I have responded positively to various requests to help out here and there--mostly with the Presbyterians. I am now finding I need to pull back.

OK--where am I going with this post.

These last several days--of watching workers rebuild a kitchen--have got me to thinking about my paternal grandfather. I have written about him several times before here, and here.

As he approached retirement age, he and my grandmother were teaching at a small college in Pennsylvania. With a bit of land on the college campus available, he decided to build the house in which they would live out their final years. Now, when I think of my grandfather, I do NOT think builder. As a young man, he had done many things with his hands--including homesteading in Saskatchewan--but he was much more a thinker than a builder. But he doggedly set about to build a small two story house.

It was during that project that he discovered he was going blind. He went to sight up part of the building to see if it was level, and realized he could not see with enough acuity to level the project. So, my aunt helped him do that.

When the house was finished, it was perfectly adequate--not elegant, but livable. My parents, brother and I even lived in the upstairs, which was made into a small apartment, for a brief time in the mid 1950s.

Now, these days, watching the workmen, I think about my grandfather. How did he do it? He was an old man when he began that project.

And I think I am exhausted?

True Confessions...Again*

All the photos above are ones I took!
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OK, so in the last post I announced my dismay at having lost the small camera I carried to the wedding, and reception. For days, it stayed missing.

Things are a little hectic around our house right now...the wedding and attendant festivities on Saturday. A lovely brunch on Sunday hosted by our daughter and son-in-law (yes, I get to write that well and truly for the FIRST time). Then Sunday afternoon, daughter and SIL packed up to depart for the airport, via SIL's home in New Jersey. Also son and DIL packed up to depart.

Monday, my husband and I went into high gear. Bedrooms cleaned up, order restored. And then order promptly undone, as we packed up the kitchen. On Tuesday, workers came to tear out our 30 year old kitchen, and they immediately set about building a new kitchen.

With the week leading up to the wedding, I had mostly concentrated on that happy event. I put aside any class preparation--so in addition to the house clean-up, packing up goings-on, I managed to grade one set of papers to return to the students on Tuesday. I also whipped up a smashing lesson on literary analysis (OK--that was easy, as I love teaching literature).

Meanwhile, poor little camera is still missing. I emailed the church to inquire. I called the hotel where the Sunday brunch had been. I called the caterers who ran the reception. Still no camera. I asked my son--did an errant camera sneak into your luggage? I even sent a message to my honey-mooning daughter. No camera.

On Tuesday afternoon, I went off to class. And, as I set up for class, I opened my purse. What's this? Uh? A camera? Neatly tucked in its little black case? All soundly nestled in the deep reaches of my most commodious purse? Huh!

So, there you have it. Yes, I had looked in my purse--in fact several times. I had opened all four zipped parts of the purse. I had looked in the two snap parts (it's a big purse, OK?). And each time I missed the little black case. When I saw it, I assumed that it was my make-up kit. The one thing I didn't do was turn the purse inside-out. I should have.

When we thought the camera was lost, my husband began a little sequence of missing camera jokes. I think he was up to number 10. When I got home from class, I sheepishly told him I had FOUND the camera.

And that, dear blogging friends, began a whole new round of camera jokes, only this time they are found camera jokes. Sigh!

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* I wrote True Confessions...Again as my blog title. I used that title once before, here.

The Bells are Ringing...

Full disclosure: as I began writing this blog the other night, I went looking for the small camera I took along--my husband's camera, actually. GONE. I looked high and low--I cannot find it. Bereft!

But, our son took marvelous photos--all those you see here are from him.

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Well, wedding day has come and gone.

Despite all our fervent hopes for good weather, Saturday dawned cloudy and drizzly. All day--off and on rain, gusts of wind, and in general a warm muggy tropical feeling. Most strange for late October in central PA.

Daughter and I began the day somewhat early--off to get hair done, and then make up done. Out of the ordinary special treatment--but for a most special day.

We headed to the church early--not much else to do with the rain. Along with my daughter-in-law, I had the immense pleasure of helping my daughter. Her dress had some 20 or 30 small buttons down the back, with little crochet loops. She patiently stood and waited, while daughter-in-law and I struggled to close them all.

Then, the big moment arrived. Music for the trip down the aisle--The Prince of Denmark March. Father of the bride, and mother of the bride accompanied her.

I have never liked the idea of "giving away" the woman--only the woman. The couple together are giving themselves to each other, and we the family members--both of the bride and the groom--are sharing this time and supporting them. So, that is how our daughter and her partner had structured the service.

The intervening moments between dressing and worship service had been filled with lots of photo taking. LOTS of photos.

After the service, we rode several blocks to the Civic Club--a lovely old building along the Susquehanna River. The father of the bride had, many months ago, arranged for a small bus to transport people from the church to the reception. At the time, it seemed most appropriate for more senior members who might need help traveling. But, with the uncooperative weather, the mini-bus turned out to be just the thing.

We had a grand time at the reception--the wedding couple entered the grand ballroom to Johnny Cash's "I Walk the Line"--such a great choice of a song. Their dance song was Nina Simone's "My Baby Just Cares for Me." For my husband and me, our daughter had picked Paul Simon's "Still Crazy After All These Years."

Ah, music--sometimes it says all that needs to be said.

We had multiple toasts, a scrumptious meal, the traditional cake cutting.

Just before the reception began, the rain stopped--and the low hanging clouds draped a gauzy fog over the river. A breathtaking sight. So, even though a clear fall day would have been gorgeous, a beautiful evening along the river was an acceptable substitute.

So, now they are well and truly married. The wedding couple returned the next day, after a wedding brunch they hosted, to London.

Sigh...

That is a sigh of relief--all the planning worked out. Our daughter looked lovely, the groom was handsome. The music was perfection. The flowers fantastic.

Also a sigh of bittersweet awareness--our daughter is our younger child, no one else at home to make a major life step.

Count Down

Today is our dear daughter's birthday.

Happy birthday, best daughter ever!

And, we are on a countdown. The big day is only 3 days away.

Round 1...

We are now 2 weeks into late fall semester. Things move at a fast pace when the class begins at the end of September, yet ends mid-December, along with all the other classes.

Students turned in their first paper, which I returned to them today, all green pen marked and graded.

I gave them my usual--here's what the various marks mean, and here is where you look in the handbook to fix the types of mistakes commonly being made--speech.

Before, I even got to that review, one student called out--what does WW mean. Continuing with the paper returns, I said--it means wrong word. There are various words in the English language--wonderful rich language that it is--that sound like other words, yet mean something completely different.

I find that using wrong words is one of the most frequent errors students make. And the tendency is catching. I was using a PowerPoint to highlight the important content that I wanted students to get from today's lecture--and there it was up on the screen. A MISTAKE. Glaring. Winking at me. Arrgghhhh! I have been corrupted by my students.

I had written DUEL, when I clearly meant DUAL. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Sadly, no student caught it.

Here are three of my favorite wrong word errors from this round of papers.

Fronds. . .meaning friends

Sauna gram. . .meaning sonogram

And spur attic. . .meaning sporadic.

With all the papers returned, I gave students time to review their marks. And, I answered as students said--what is this that you wrote.

All along, I could hear one woman in the front of the class muttering--I am not liking this at all.

I dismissed class a bit early, saying--any of you who have questions, and want to take 5 minutes to go over your paper, I will stay right here.

I expected the muttering student to stay and ask something--but she was out the door in a flash. SIGH. And to think, at the beginning of the semester, she had loudly announced how much she loves to write. What she probably means is that if she gets to write, journal fashion, unedited, unevaluated thoughts, then she loves to write. But let me review her work and offer constructive criticism--well, that she is NOT liking at all.