This summer my mom and her gentleman bought a house together. Over the weekend I visited them as cohabitors for the first time. Here are some things that happened.
We sat outside and talked about funny things.
And some serious things.
I was reminded that a penchant for funky shoes is genetic. (It is still a great disappointment that my mom and I don’t wear the same size.)
There was some nature on the porch.
This peacock made me think of buddhas.
Inside the house, there is a balcony from which mom and her gentleman address their subjects. Welease Woger!
When I got home, I found THIS!
For the past three plus years, the spices have been on open shelves in our tiny kitchen, which meant that I was always knocking into them and sending containers of cinnamon and garlic bouncing down the basement stairs. Even worse, the containers got all kitchensticky. I don’t like kitchensticky. Kitchensticky is one of those things that makes me feel like a failure as an adult. Really, I’m supposed to be a contributing, functional member of society and I can’t even keep my spice containers from getting sticky and covered in cat hair? What is wrong with me? The little reminder of inadequacy every time I reach for the Old Bay is a total bummer.
Happily, though, last weekend I found a narrow cabinet at Ikea that would fit in the same small space as the shelves. Scott put it up while I was away (and cleaned off all of the containers), so obviously the first thing I had to do when I got home today, before I even unpacked my bag, was alphabetize me some spices.
Soon, the cabinet will be painted. I’m thinking white, with some orange and blue, and it maybe something clever on it, like “Here are the spices!”
