Be Kind as The Color Changes…

Photo by Parker Johnson on Unsplash

As I walked in the woods this morning I reflected on my current funk. Waking up to post-election news of Northern Virginia started my day off blue, exceedingly blue, and that’s not the color I had in mind. I was content enough with purple. There’s a balance in that, I thought, as I stood for a moment to watch a heron perched high up in a tree. I supposed he (or she) was surveying the lake below for something decent to eat. 

As I took a deep breath of the cold morning air I let it out slowly.  The mantra, This Too Shall Past surfaced again; it seems to be my recurrent sentiment as of late.  It bubbles up countless times a day now.  Actually, I’m grateful that it does; it keeps me grounded in these deeply polarizing times.

I’ve never worn politics on my sleeve which is odd I suppose considering that forty years ago I graduated with honors from the University of Colorado with a degree in Political Science.  After all these years…after marriage, kids, a divorce, remarriage- in a word, life--I still think back to those four college years.  Back then, my mother complained on more than one occasion that university life was turning me into a “bleeding heart liberal.”  In truth, my easily swayed nature during those years simply gave in to the student masses, that, and the need for a good grade.  I’ll never forget the one “C” I had on a pol. sci. paper was due to my opposing opinion on an assigned reading.  That’ll teach you.  The game is: tell the profs what they want to hear if you want to get a good grade.  So I did, sweeping conservative leanings well under the carpet.

Still, I considered myself a moderate then..not right, not left but somewhere in the middle, which, on the whole seems perfectly rational given that I am a Libra. 

My funk in this moment really isn’t about “losing” per se. Sure, I would have liked my candidate to win. My disappointment is really over a loss of civility. It’s been on a downward spiral for years now, starting well before our current President was even considering a White House run. Can’t we not be kinder, more civil, to one another even as the “color” changes? One cannot say, for example, “I’m sorry your candidate lost,” and be done with that. Instead there is rallying, tribal, sophomoric chest pounding combined with social media comments that are beyond the pale. Take that you evil “red” (can’t repeat) , or…Democrats won you fascist rag. The sentiment is: We are going to slay you now that we have ALL the control. There is not even a smidgen of pretense to work together anymore. Our polarization has, in my humble opinion, limited our future and we are weaker for it.

How will this blue, Hear-Me-Roar, chest pounding, get anything of substance accomplished?

Add to that: Seriously, is it really necessary to stomp on the heads and hearts of those who believe–or voted– differently as your victory cry? Don’t get me wrong, toxicity is rampant from the “red”camp too. Social media comments from the right side of the isle have been just as egregious as those on the left. This whole incivility business, as well as our current state of extreme ideologies has me wanting to curl up under a warm fuzzy blanket with a stack of escapism books and my Poodle-love snuggled at my side….at least through the end of 2020. That, and a fabulous bottle (or two) of Cabernet. Okay…and dark chocolate as well.

Have no fear kind readers. I know what I must do.

Smile…and just keep on saying: This too shall pass.

There is bliss in that.

Here’s Johnny…

These pumpkins are staying put until Thanksgiving weekend….just saying.

Lord have mercy, where as October gone? In a few days trick-o-treaters will be running through the neighborhood tripping over themselves as they rush from door to door to fill plastic pumpkins or pillow cases full of Halloween candy. Then, bang… we’re into November….which means only one thing: Christmas. Yep.  We may as fell forget about turkey day and all the Thanksgiving trimmings, or unhurried long afternoon walks through heaps of leaves crunching beneath our feet as we inhale  (hopefully) fresh, crisp autumn air.   I say this because….as God is my witness, we’ve got two houses in our neighborhood that already have Christmas lights up.

I kid not.

If you think I’m being a tad hum-bug consider that Christmas music is already playing on Sirius/XM. Yes indeed: Channel 70 is, through January 1st,  the dedicated Hallmark channel and it’s has been playing Christmas music for days now.  I was perplexed at this because last year I remember it starting on November 1st (which is, IMHO, still a tad early…but that is just me.).  Don’t get me wrong…I love the sounds of the season like nobody’s business but it’s still October people! What is wrong with slowing down a bit to enjoy autumn in all her orange, brown and golden glory, thank-you-very-much?!  The hullabaloo of Christmas seems to begin earlier and earlier each year.  In fact, we may be well on a path that pushes the festivities of Christmas to, say …July.

Okay.  Clearly an exaggeration and such a silly thing to get my knickers in a twist over. 

So move on Missy, says the voice in my head.

Yes, my silent protestations (except obviously in this here space) are assuredly of the First World variety. I readily admit that I’m extremely lucky to be able to listen to subscriber music services and the like. I acknowledge as well that I have a choice. There is nothing forcing me to listen to Christmas music and I can wait…as I usually do, until the day after Thanksgiving.

I know. I’m old school. Or perhaps…to the younger crowd out there, ancient is a better term.

To just to prove how old school I am I’ll happily share what I have been listening to for weeks now: SiriusXM channel 105. Nope….it’s not classical music, and of course not the sounds of the season…and it’s not even Classic Vinyl, Love songs or Seriously Sinatra. In fact, I found out about Channel 105 programming quite by accident. One could say it was through unintentional ease dropping on a conversation at Starbucks, although, honestly, the three ladies from two tables away were loud enough that I could hear them with my earbuds on.

“Did you hear the episode with Johnny and Joan Embery with animals from the San Diego Zoo? That was a riot,” said the one gal with strikingly silver hair.

I wasn’t sure I had heard the conversation correctly so after my coffee the first thing I did when I got back into my car was surf SiriusXM and voilà…there it was: The Johnny Carson channel.

So, dear readers, I have to say that I have been experiencing a lovely blast from the past so far. In fact, memories of me, well past my bedtime, sitting at the foot of my mom’s bed while we watched the show together, are some of the best memories I have of time with my mother. For nearly thirty years The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson was a late night ritual for her. Among her favorite episodes were those featuring a wide variety of animals, exotic and domestic, and of course the comedy sketches featuring Carson as Carnac the Magnificent. I can almost hear my mamma laughing even as I write these words….

There is bliss in that…

So, Ladies and Gentlemen, the “sounds of the season” that I am currently listening to begins with….

Here’s Johnny……

You’d best hurry because it’s only available for a few more days.

and….I hope this makes you chuckle, just a little:

Moment by Moment…

Apple Crostata for my birthday treat

Birthday number sixty-two came and went a few days ago.  Today, As my feet hit the floor my knees were annoyingly effective in reminding me of my thirty or so years of running.  The snap and crackle sound of my joints continued as I moved downstairs to the kitchen. Geez. I thought. I’d never be able to stealth my way into anywhere with these knees; I would be heard from a mile away!   Before the ritual of morning coffee, I give my achy knees a gentle rub to warm them up and as I did so vowed to move with as much grace as possible through year sixty-three, arthritic knees and such be damned!

What a blessing it was to celebrate another year around the sun with sis and company.  The day was lovely, albeit unseasonably warm, and it was capped off by a divinely delicious dinner prepared by sis. On the menu that night was a first for me: 40-clove garlic chicken. How is it possible that in all these years I’d never enjoyed such a delight to the taste buds? 

Time is flying.  Be open to new things, came the whisper…

Each year that passes now reels me into a “deepening” of sorts….ever longer moments in a quieter space filled with moments of brutal self-reflection, sadness for what was and what wasn’t, but also joy for heart-warming memories and moments of complete fulfillment. There are many more moments in a day that I realize that there is far less time ahead of me. The sound of the clock ticking as each minute passes grows louder, almost thunderous. Some days I handle this preoccupation exceedingly well, at least I’d like to think I do. Others, well…not so much. For example, my husband will say or do some thing–silly, in the scheme of it all–that makes my head pop in purple minion fashion. It’s been twenty-plus years of this same song I’ll mutter under my breath enough times that in a flash of Italian anger I’ll tell him that I don’t want to spend one more minute of my precious golden years with that tired old slide guitar-of-a-song clamoring in the background…

..if you get my drift.

Thankfully, I catch myself quickly now. Perhaps its simply due to age–the mellowing of every fiber of my being, or my new milestone…369 consecutive days of a meditation practice. In the midst of an angst-filled moment, with a long, slow inhale and exhale– a wave of crystal clear awareness will smack me between the eyes and with it comes the wisdom from a thousand sages before me: this moment is all that there is…so stop projecting Missy that you’ll be dealing with silly husband sh**t in the years ahead.

Let.It.Go.

I’m working harder still on childhood baggage and forgiving those who knew not what they were doing, as well as those who did. The journey is not for the faint of heart. But, while the clock ticks on, moment by moment, I am cheerfully optimistic that this whole “grace in aging” thing keeps its firm hold on me until my last breath. Slowly but surely, “Awakening” more as the years tick by…

and yes, there is bliss in that.

An excerpt from “Blessing in the Chaos” by Jan Richardson seems appropriate in the moment….

Let what distracts you cease.

Let what divides you cease.

Let there come an end to what diminishes and demeans.

And let depart all that keeps you in its cage.

A burst of color on my morning walk with The Poodle

Between Bliss and Doom

Photo by Bryan Goff on Unsplash

“I’ve got an interesting article to share with you,” I told my nephew some days ago while on the way to Five Guys for burgers. We were lucky to have him for a spell while his parents attended Back to School Night.

“Okay, what’s it about?” was his cheery reply.

“It’s about the day the dinosaurs died,” I replied. “Let’s read it together after burgers.”

I’ll admit I was a bit reticent about sharing the article with him.  He is not quite twelve and though he has experienced two grandparents passing within three years he’s sweet and sensitive as can be. I certainly didn’t want to cause nightmares.   And, when I thought about it for a moment longer I realized too it was because of my fear…specifically the whole gloom and doom thing.   I had read the article just hours before over morning coffee.  Geez-louise! We could get hit by a similar catastrophe, very much like the one that catapulted the earth into the ice-age. 

Note to self: Stop reading stuff like that before the roosters are up and crowing!  

Later after stuffing ourselves silly on those fabulous Five Guys fries, we convened on the back deck.  As promised, I read parts of a Wall Street Journal article aloud to my nephew sharing the new evidence uncovered about the massive asteroid that wiped out the dinosaurs some 65 million years ago. You can (hopefully) view it here:  https://www.wsj.com/articles/scientists-discover-new-evidence-of-the-asteroid-that-killed-off-the-dinosaurs-11568055601?shareToken=staf6b086021d7498d8b13372021f0e7b1

He was enthralled of course and even shared some tidbits on geology and sedimentary rock which impressed the snot out of us. After our nephew left, I stayed out on the screened-in porch for quite some time. As I cradled my glass of wine in the quiet of the evening I realized I was becoming lost in a thought pattern of gloom. I should not have read the article…things like that really get to me. Which is why I do not watch horror and shoot-em-up movies. Doris Day and Rock Hudson…now that is my happy place!

When hubby joined me I again I brought up the topic of asteroid doom…but not before asking for more wine.

“You want another glass?’ he asked with a look of feigned concern.

Full disclosure, I wanted the entire bottle of wine.

(fear not dear reader. I was a good girl.)

“Well, why not? No time like the present. After all, we could get hit by a massive asteroid before the next sunrise.”

“Ah,” he said. “I see where this is going.”

So, in a professorial manner he tried his best to convince me that asteroid doom was quite unlikely to happen imminently and furthermore we would know of an asteroid hurling in our direction years in advance of causing a cataclysmic event. .

Well, that’s reassuring…..

For those of you who watched the hilarious show Bing Bang Theory, perhaps you’ve guessed by now kind reader that I am the “Penny” to this “Sheldon/Leonard” husband of mine. So I ask: But what would we do? Would we like…um… shoot the thing down?

Sheldon/Leonard: Actually what we would do is deflect it while it is still in space. The object would be to knock it off course….get it into another orbit…so that it misses Earth.”

My Sheldon/Leonard guy said a lot of other stuff but honestly my eyes began glazing over pretty darned quickly. Sadly, I cannot blame it on the wine.

Still, I couldn’t shake the asteroid doom. It made me think once again about the impermanence of everything…the fragile nature of our lives and every little thing we know, love or care a wit about. So many of my problems are First World. Why bother getting attached to anything…good or bad? Why agonize, for example, about what to get my daughter for Christmas or that my son is still a mess? Why be in such a hurry to bag autumn leaves that are already piling high on my front porch just to make everything neat and pretty… or even continue another debate with hubby on whether we spring for yet another year of expensive pet insurance for our aging poodle.

My ruminating went on and on with the voices getting louder and louder. In meditation circles–or more precisely, Buddhism– it’s called the “monkey mind.” It’s our minds filled with endless chatter: negative, positive it matters not. It can be a hundred monkeys all vying for your attention and before you know it you’re a whirling dervish of thoughts and emotions. It’s my mind, caught between bliss and doom and everything in between. It can be exhausting….at the very least.

Before I knew it tears are streaming down my face. Oh I must stop this pity party I think as I move to get up. Pain seared through both knees as I shifted my legs off the chair in front of me. As I rub my little “gargoyles” (bone spurs) that have somewhat disfigured my arthritic knees I am keenly aware that my knee issues and host of other things are nothing compared to the challenges others face. Like my dearest friend who is battling a rare cancer and another who struggles with depression or a friend’s husband undergoing heart surgery. There is a whole world out there that seems upside-down; it often seems dark, chaotic and in a turmoil that borders on insanity to me.

Wowza. Is there a full moon or something? Just yesterday I was basking in the glow of a perfect workout, happy as a clam with a new read…. and ready for all the blessings of autumn…

Clearly I need to guzzle a boatload of chamomile and get out of this negative bubble…not to mention glue myself onto the meditation pillow .

I managed a decent sleep in spite of too much Cabernet. By morning I was back to feeling a bit more chipper. Still, as I walked down into the woods with The Poodle I could feel a slight edge. He wanted to stop and mark EVERY. SINGLE. TREE that lined the heavily wooded path.

Come on boy…get a move on,” I huffed impatiently as I pulled on his lead. I’ve no idea why I was in such a hurry; it’s not like I had places to be and important things to do.

And then, just as I was about to yank on the lead yet again I stopped dead in my tracks. The sight before me was mesmerizing. It gave me such pause that I stopped for several minutes. The Poodle stood patiently beside me as my breath became quiet. I could actually feel my heart expand in joy. I was instantly lighter, as if the weight of my sixty plus years had been lifted….

and all because of a dancing leaf, held well above the path by a whisper of a spider’s web.

The monkey mind is much quieter and that’s Bliss a hundred-fold.

To use this video in a commercial player or in broadcasts, please email licensing@storyful.com

Pumpkin Time begins…

November 2018 Northern VA.

 

A post just this week on Twitter went something like this:

“…But, I’ve never understood the pumpkin spice flavored stuff. There is zero excitement for me.”

It was first thing in the morning, over coffee to be exact, when I started scrolling through comments intrigued to see thoughts on the subject.  Pumpkin time begins I marveled. 

Where has summer gone?

There were many comments of course: All nice, mind you, and thank goodness for that! Nothing snarky or inappropriate save for one or two idiots who felt it necessary to bring –of all people–Trump into the topic. What a way to ruin things: Like what on earth does he have to do with Pumpkin Spice in anything!?   Fortunately, the person who posted the Tweet is as sunny and lovely as the sun itself and she is  quick to cut off trolls at the knees.  To be certain, one doesn’t want to read hate and vitriol before the roosters are up (or ever). Of course, one could argue that reading social media these days, particularly first thing in the morning can be an invitation for starting the day on the wrong foot.

In any event the whole point of my thoughts on this lazy afternoon is that September is upon us this weekend.  Halloween stuff has been in stores for weeks already…crazy, right?  So it’s fitting, I suppose, to start thinking of all things pumpkin and spice (meaning cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves) –all of which I love–except…in coffee.

My flavor preferences (for those just dying to know) are puzzling to some (even to me). For example, it is perplexing to my nephew that I like apple pie but not apple juice or I prefer blueberries in my yogurt but I am not inclined towards blueberry pie. How is it that my taste buds are so…curiously discriminating? 

Yes, my sweet…I am weird….

And, when it comes to coffee, I’m a purist.  My cup of java (or espresso) is either black or with skim milk as in a latte or a cappuccino.  That means no sugar, syrups, liquor, whipped cream, or spices…not even the coveted pumpkin spice lattes that are the Starbucks rage from now through Christmas.  And yes, I did try one…once…and, well….blech, far too sweet for my taste buds.  And besides, a 16 oz. pumpkin spice latte is roughly 380 calories.  I’d much rather linger over a cup of black coffee and a piece of pumpkin pie, which is about 60 calories less, give or take.  Okay…honestly, it’s not about calories as my husband will attest to.  I can go face down into a bag of chips polishing off the entire thing at one sitting.  It’s just that those calories need to be ever so pleasing and a pumpkin spice latte doesn’t do it for me.

However, I am mad for pumpkin pie and pumpkin bread….and I’ll happily eat a pumpkin muffin…but–odd I knownot pumpkin cheesecake nor pumpkin ravioli (which makes me shudder) though, I didn’t mind one bit a hearty bowl of pumpkin soup with a lovely kick of ginger and red pepper that I tried when in Scotland this summer.

Lots of folks on that Twitter feed chimed in to agree that pumpkin spice flavoring wasn’t their thing, even in beer.  Some opined that the whole pumpkin thing gets overplayed during Fall as in “…pumpkin this, pumpkin that.”  But many were in the “love it” camp too which is perfectly fine!   One thing however, that nearly everyone could agree on was that pumpkin spice signaled the arrival of their favorite time of year (and mine too).  All the glories of autumn will soon have us gushing over spectacular fall colors not to mention outdoor activities that warrant bowls of delicious hot soups and stews and home-made bread smeared with European butter or Chile recipes packed with enough spices and heat to make you sweat. 

Oh the bliss of just thinking about it!

As long as Fall temps don’t chill me to the bones, I am a happy woman.  So bring on the bliss of autumn….except for this gal, sans pumpkin spice lattes and such.

 

Cycling in Napa Valley, Oct. 2010: Now that’s a pumpkin!

Some Like It Hot

Photo by Jan Gottweiss on Unsplash

I knew it would be a scorcher of a day even before my morning weather briefing from “Alexa.” Heading out the door with The Poodle just before seven a.m. was a certain clue;  a blast of moist, warm air greeted me before I had taken two steps.  A quick look at my weather app confirmed; temps were already in the eighties and would reach 98 today with a 104 heat index. I kept the walk brief, more for The Poodle than for me. 

For the most part we’ve had a manageable summer, weather-wise.  We’ve been fortunate that nothing too dramatic has occurred in our neck of the woods.  And though the dog days of summer doesn’t seem to be waning on this Hades-hot and muggy day I am not complaining.  In fact, through eyes burning with salty sweat– just from a walk around the block– I am almost energized. 

Bring on another dog day, and another one after that, I say as I head back down my driveway with a panting Poodle.  I’m sure at least one of my dear “seven” readers is scratching their head over my wishful thinking.  But here’s the thing…

I’m already thinking of bone-chilling cold winter and Uggs.  And while I love Uggs, I’d honestly prefer not to have to wear them

So yes…I’d venture to say that…..

Some like it hot. 

Which leads me to purposefully digress….altogether off-track…to last night.

Dinner at my sister’s house.

So….Sis and family returned a week ago from an excellent adventure in Bangkok Thailand.  My bro-in-law had to attend a work-related conference which naturally presented a lovely opportunity for the family.  While they all enjoyed their exciting and exotic adventure–which included, among many things, python petting and lemur love as well as a Thai cooking class, we kept the home fires burning–so to speak–providing their pooch, Nica with her own home -away-from-home doggie-vacation (playing with The Poodle aside, this also meant she enjoyed gourmet delights that aren’t the usual fare at her house.)

Sufficiently recovered from a particularly unpleasant jet-lag, Sis felt like showing off her newfound Thai cooking skills.  “Come on over when you’re done with your pool-time.  I’m cooking Thai tonight…libations at 5:30,” she texted.

My sis is a terrific cook and she is often more adventurous in her approach than me.  So, naturally we were all in.

Arriving just a tad late from the pool we were welcomed with ice-cold libations: beer for the hubby and gin and tonic for me.  Normally I don’t imbibe in anything other than wine but every once in a while –particularly on a hot day–my brother-in-law suggests I enjoy something different and I’m always happy to comply.

 

Some like it Hot…really HOT

On the chopping block in my sister’s kitchen there was colorful array of tiny dishes as well as a platter of tiny bright-red peppers that made my heart sing just looking at them.

“Wow…what a production,” I say as I survey the food prep. There was expertly chopped fresh cilantro in one bowl, and lime wedges in another. There were little bowls of sliced red onions, green onions, and fresh mint leaves. A large fresh ginger root was at the ready too.

“What’s in this bowl,” I asked, as I sipped on my gin and tonic.

“Kaffir Lime Leaves,” she replies. “And that…” pointing to what I had just picked up, “… is Lemon Grass,” she says.

“Really?! Wow… I have never used Lemon Grass in a recipe,” I say. She then tells me about making her own rice powder for the Chicken Larb dish.

“Wowza! You really went all out! This all had to have taken hours!”

“Not really,” smiles sis as she takes a moment to relax with her drink. “It just took a little time to find the right ingredients.” We’re fortunate to live in an area that makes that fairly easy. “Anyway,” she continues, “these recipes are all pretty easy. Here, take a look at this.” She hands me a book by Chef Kris Yenbamroong entitled, Night + Market.

I flip through it as sis continues with her meal prep. I’m amazed that the guy has had no formal culinary training and yet he opened a Thai restaurant in L.A. to rave reviews and has authored a cookbook.

“Hmm…there are some really interesting recipes in here. “And you’re right, they look fairly easy.” I also note, as I looked at the chef/author’s photo, that he is heavily tattooed. “He’s heavily inked in black and white,” I add.

“Yes…and it’s quite prevalent to see in Thailand too. So many people with beautiful and interesting tattoos.”

About an hour later with libations finished and a last minute scurry to complete the final touches, we all sat down for our Thai meal experience. For our first course, sis had prepared a soup with red chilies and shrimp that had us sweating bullets at the first slurp.

“Holy Hades…. this is spicy hot!” I said in surprise. In hindsight, I should have known since there was a plate of fresh hot red peppers in the kitchen.

“Oh no, is it too spicy?! I’m sorry!” sis said with anxious concern.

“Are you kidding? I love it! The hotter the better,” I said with unbridled zeal. “This is terrific!” And I really meant it.

For the main course she had prepared Chicken Larb, also delightfully spicy, and a thrill to the taste buds. For inquiring minds about Larb, which is essentially a meat salad, check out this link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Larb. We also enjoyed spring rolls (the only non-Thai item on the table) as well as citrus, spice-infused jasmine rice and a delightful papaya and mango salad.

Chicken Larb

So peeps, we ate ourselves silly that night and enjoyed every hot and spicy morsel of it. For a nano-second I think of purchasing the book. After all, I should spice it up a notch in my own kitchen and expand on my usual repertoire of Italian delights…

Hmm. On second thought, no…for the moment at least. There is fun to be had watching –and being a part of–my sis occasionally stepping outside of our Italian heritage. There’s always something to learn and merriment too, in my sister’s kitchen. Quite simply, it makes life all the more colorful and that’s a bliss I don’t want to miss.

What A Difference A Day Makes

….or, twelve days, to be more precise.

So kind readers, I have not been overly vociferous on this here cyberspace spot about my disdain for the bathrooms in my 90’s built house. Mostly this is because I am keenly aware that there are plenty of folks in the world who, I’m certain, would give their first born for a proper roof over their heads, let alone a functioning indoor toilet. Yet I cannot tell you how many times in the last two years I have bitched and groaned about my crookedly-seated master bath toilet or the “poop” brown color everywhere–from cabinets to flooring–in three bathrooms.

Yes. I know. I’m lucky to have not one but three bathrooms.

Oh wait: full disclosure, we actually have five counting a guest powder room and a basement bathroom.

Sigh.

Okay, I feel embarrassed…silly even… complaining about twenty-five year old bathrooms.  I am one lucky woman.

But still:  The cabinets were well worn, and in some cases broken. All the wall mirrors were plenty oxidized with unsightly black edges. And don’t get me started on the floor tile.  Add to that, we discovered a broken pipe under the Jacuzzi tub.  This adds credence to a universal truth: TRUST YOUR INSTINCT.  In this case, it was my refusal to use the Jacuzzi tub because my gut said so.  Our contractor said just one soak in the tub would have caused a great deal of damage.  An image of me–in the tub–crashing through the floor into the kitchen below flashed before my eyes.

So we decided to update the bathrooms. And, instead of pulling off the band-aid a little at a time (i.e. one bathroom remodel a year) we went for ripping off the band-aid all at once: let’s remodel all three.

I’ve never had to remodel bathrooms; completely new territory for me. Naturally I spent many sleepless nights worrying about money and making the best selections within our means. As I didn’t want to shell out an additional $5k on top of the project estimate for a design consultant I relied on my gut–which was, in a word: terrifying— as well as endless hours perusing Houzz.com, Build.com, Pinterest and a host of other cyberspace articles on bathroom projects. I also relied on my sis’s creative skills, picking her brain every now and then on everything from accent tile to drawer pulls. Add to that weeks and weeks of countless trips to Home Depot and as many more to the tile store agonizing over color, grout, accent tiles, etc. My exercise routine plummeted and my chip-snacking sky-rocketed. Still, my only mantra through the process of selecting tile and all the necessary fixtures was: Anything will be better than the poop brown that we have now.

Now, save for shower glass (expected to arrive next week) and hanging mirrors, we are through the worst of the upheaval and the difference is astounding, though my photos don’t convey well enough the before and after! Suffice it to say that we were thrilled to be able to increase our master bath space by a good fifteen square feet without a lot of trouble, and, by getting rid of the “built-in” Jacuzzi tub we gained usable space. In addition, oh what joy to discover we gained nearly a whopping three square feet to the shower!

I’m over the moon with the results!

Now here’s a burning question: What do I do with all my free time now that I no longer need to spend endless hours on Houzz, Build.Com or Pinterest?

Ah, Yes….I suppose I can get my tush to the gym now and afterwards enjoy a soak in my tub under the serene eyes of Buddha…

Not complaining…and there is bliss in that.