The January of jungle conquering and shower gnomes!
The bottles were stacked on top of the fridge with care, and the fruit bowl graced the center of the kitchen table. Another spice shelf (number four) was (nearly) installed into the formerly secret ironing board closet. Autumn noted, as she walked in the door, that a portable toolbox had been created (out of an old Clementine box [see: neatly stacked citrus in the fruit bowl]) to keep the hammer & nails, sandpaper & pencils, screws, screwdriver, and a lizard for good measure [pun: sorry] off the kitchen table.
This was the scene after a long month of settling and unpacking, which included: moving boxes to the garage and back again (and then back to the garage and, rarely, back again), hanging up clothes in the closet, learning how to (peacefully) share a dresser, swapping out two installed towel racks for four installed towel racks (like Goldilocks, the new ones were too short for the back of the door, but the old ones were juuustright), installing a washer and dryer after watching YouTube videos on how to install a washer and dryer, reconquering the back jungle for vegetable planning (and later, planting), and seeding starts of beets, bok choy, carrots, swiss chard, oh my!
[John] To a small degree, we feel like the old story of the family that lived in a shoe. In this case, the shoe is a 1930s well-traveled and tanned leather Oxford with some sand from the back deserts of Egypt wedged into the cracks. It has the class of a good, quality crafted item, well worn but still alive and kicking [pun: sorry], with great features, yet we found it at a yard sale and our foot is still molding the shoe to fit us well.
[Autumn] I'm really not sure where he's going with this shoe thing. I mean, everyone knows it was 'an old woman' who lived in the shoe, not a family, and that she believed in corporal punishment for her children, and you mustn't think we condone that. But if we are to use the shoe analogy (and keep the Oxford) I'd actually call the cottage a much classier piece of footware. I'm seeing shiny black and white, with high contrast stitching and the little punched out holes that look so nice on tap shoes or on Cary Grant. Maybe the shoes pinch a little on your toes (or maybe it's just that you've hit your toe on one of John's boxes again) but we'll make them fit with time - and maybe even dance!
[John] Let's walk away from this argument, shall we? [pun: sorry]
A few things we can't easily walk away from include shower gnomes that like to play tricks on the water temperature, large snails in the garden, wasps building nests in the garage, and a doorbell that sounds like a 1990's electronic greeting card. We'll see if time will give us a victory over any of these, or perhaps merely soften to the enemy (gnome / snail / wasp / doorbell). Thankfully, in the course of life (or building a new life in a delightful cottage), things like these are just minor distractions; ultimately the most important things (the vegetable garden, fine food, wine, good company, and each other) will receive our love and attention.
At the agreement that we should take the night off and write about our (mis?)adventures, John wanted to post a declaration of victory over unpacking. Autumn correctly pointed out that we still couldn't walk in a straight line through the living room without stubbing our black and white toe on a box. So we mused fruitfully [pun: sorry] about other things to declare victory over, and behold, there was a package of strawberries in the fridge. [With apologies to Kingsolver, these were purchased for John's CalBach benefit party and originated from Mexico, not Salinas as they will be in June. We promise we'll eat local February beets next week.] We are currently enjoying strawberries drizzled with yogurt and brown sugar on a nice breakfast & coffee tray that John received as a present for a year ago Christmas. Now we can toast to a victory (even if only over fruit)!
Cheers, and good night!