Insomnia and Creativity: Story of My Life

Insomnia and Creativity: Story of My Life

Insomnia.

It comes and goes, and I never know when it’s coming or when it will go. It perpetuates itself; the longer you go without sleeping, the more you worry because you’re not sleeping. The anxiety keeps you awake, so you can’t get to sleep, because you’re worried about not sleeping … I do not exaggerate.

But I’m nothing if not an irrepressible optimist. So I believe that every cloud has a silver lining. (And, obviously, that some clichés are just truth that a lot of people recognize.)

About a week ago, after several nights of either sleeplessness or what could be considered a short nap in the middle of the night, I figured there had to be some productive way to use this time.

I was preparing for a presentation for a group I’ve been involved with for quite some time and really did not want to screw up. The topic was something I know well and am comfortable with. Earlier in the evening, I had been working on it and had really reached the point of burnout. I realized that the work I had done up to that point was crap.

So, I gave in to my fried brain and went to bed. But not to sleep. Once I laid down, my mind came alive. With ideas.

And suddenly, the presentation took shape. I sleep with my phone, so I took a few notes, but my mind just kicked into overdrive and I wrote the entire presentation in my head. And when I woke up, I still remembered it and it was so much better than what I had done that I deleted it all and started over.

Turned out to be one of the most successful presentations I’ve done, based on how much fun I had and the feedback I received.

So why do I do my best writing lying down?

I think it’s because my body is relaxed. Lying down, there’s no tension, no pressure. My mind is out of work mode. No one works lying down, right? Since I don’t think I’m working, I’m relaxed enough to free up my brain, so it just flows.

In the past few months, I’ve realized that I really do my best writing lying down. Which I thought was weird, and has definitely brought eye rolls from my husband, Jim, who still doesn’t believe I’m not just napping.

So when a study from researchers at the Australian National University found that participants solved anagrams 10 percent faster when lying down, I felt vindicated.

How do you do your best work? Sitting up, standing, lying down?

Here’s the study.

See, it’s not just me.

Stan Musial, Daddy, and The Jersey

Stan Musial, Daddy, and The Jersey

1946 Cardinal jersey, signed by Stan Musial, especially for Jason Motte

My sister’s prized possession: 1946 Cardinal jersey, signed by Stan Musial, especially for Jason Motte

Stan Musial died today. And it made me cry.

Stan Musial, for those who aren’t baseball fans, is the greatest Cardinal who ever played the game. He played his entire career — 22  years — in St. Louis. His statistics are impressive, to be sure, as he was the consummate player. Off the field, he was reportedly humble, approachable, friendly and kind to all. He was married to his high school sweetheart, Lillian, who passed away in May 2012, for 71 years.

His accomplishments and his character were admirable, but that’s not why I cried.

My total obsession with love of baseball comes from my dad. I grew up on Cardinal baseball — Sundays we went to church, ate lunch and settled in to watch the Cards on TV.  As we watched, Daddy would explain things to me; he’d point out the break on the pitcher’s curve ball, he’d get just a little bit giddy when Lou Brock took a big lead off first base, and he was always awed by Bob Gibson’s fastball. When we traveled, he’d search the radio stations until he heard Jack Buck’s familiar voice, then we’d settle in and listen, cheering and groaning as if we were there.

But Musial was his idol, his all-time favorite player. I think they must have been a lot alike; both married their high school sweethearts, both kind, gracious, generous and known as gentlemen with character above reproach. Musial retired in 1963, probably a couple of years or so before I started watching baseball, so I never saw him play. But I heard my dad talk about him so much I feel as if I did.

We met him once, at his restaurant in St. Louis, on one of our yearly baseball trips. We asked for his autograph, and I don’t remember much, but I remember how nice he was. And his sense of humor when my brother, then probably four or five, began to tear up the photo he had just autographed.

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Sara in the Musial jersey and Robbie in Carlos Beltran’s All-Star jersey

This past November, Cardinal closer Jason Motte and his wife, Caitlin, held a benefit for cancer research, which we attended with my sister, her husband and their 11-year-old son. The silent auction featured many great items of sports memorabilia, mostly Cardinal-related. But the last item presented, the ultimate, was an authentic 1946 Cardinal jersey, signed by Musial.

When the Musial jersey came up for auction, I was not that surprised to see my sister’s hand go up, though the starting bid was more than she had said she’d spend. As the bidding became heated, her hand kept going up — along with my heart rate. She won the auction and the jersey was hers for far less here in Memphis than it would have sold for in St. Louis. Motte told us afterward that he went to Musial’s home to ask him to autograph the jersey especially for the event.

Brother-in-law Robbie, Cardinal closer Jason Motte, me, Sam, my sister, Sara, Jim with the Musial jersey

Brother-in-law Robbie, Cardinal closer Jason Motte, me, Sam, my sister, Sara, Jim with the Musial jersey

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She felt, as I did, the connection with Musial through my dad. It meant more than its monetary value,  it reflected a piece of our childhood, a legacy that we now share with our own children. As we all took turns trying it on, I imagined the smile that would have lit up my dad’s face when he took his turn.

So now I’m comforted by the idea that Daddy and Stan are talking Cardinal baseball in Heaven. And I’m sad about the loss of someone who impacted the life of someone I loved, and, therefore, my own.

Rest in peace, Stan the Man. And be sure and tell Daddy about the 2011 World Series.

For Gracie: Godspeed, Tiny Puppy

For Gracie: Godspeed, Tiny Puppy

If we’re connected on any social network, you know by now that we lost one of our four dogs on Christmas Day. We’re not really sure what happened, but the best guess is that she had an illness we didn’t know about and just found a place in my mom’s back yard to curl up and die. We found her on Christmas morning, after combing the neighborhood for hours on Christmas Eve, thinking she had simply gotten out of the yard.

She was a tiny teacup chihuahua that we discovered at a gas station in Bald Knob, Arkansas in the summer of 2009. On our way home from a lake trip, we stopped for gas. The moment Sara Ann got out of the car, she spied a woman and her daughter with six small puppies in a laundry basket. They were giving them away free. Jim saw them at about the same time and called out to Sara Ann, “Don’t look at the puppies … ” But it was too late.

Bringing her home from the Bald Knob gas station
Bringing her home from the Bald Knob gas station

It was hard to imagine how tiny she was when she first came to us. At her first vet visit, she weighted .8 lbs.

In Sara Ann's shoe box
In Sara Ann’s shoe box
Sara Ann loved her dearly
Sara Ann loved her dearly, as we all did.

She loved to curl up in our laundry room, in this laundry basket that had a cozy blanket in it. It took her a few months to be able to get in and out of the basket, but she finally figured out to do it.

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Here she is napping on Ethan’s lap with her sister Layla in my mom’s office

I’ll never forget the way she wanted to be held, with her head in the crook of my arm and my hand cradling her tiny butt. She’d lie still forever in that position, as if she could stay there forever. When I worked in my home office, she’d sit on my legs and curl up between my legs and the desk. We would laugh at the way she ran on those tiny legs, more like a rabbit hop than a running dog, and how she would bark just like the big dogs at anyone who entered our house. We always thought she fancied herself a terrifying watchdog.

She was not terribly well-behaved or well-trained; she didn’t come when we called her unless she felt like it, and never really got the hang of doing her doggy business outdoors. She was so tiny and cute it didn’t matter much, so we let her slide. I’d like to think that we gave her a life filled with love and comfort and that she died knowing how dear she was to all of us.

It’s been a long time since I’ve lost a pet, and it’s already been harder than I remember. I’ll never forget the look of utter devastation on Sara Ann’s face when she found Gracie in the yard. Seeing a child in pain will wrench a mother’s gut. I held her as she sobbed and I watched as Elizabeth and Jim rushed to comfort her.

I believe God always sends us a ray of beauty in the midst of pain. Elizabeth and Jim gathered Gracie up, wrapped her and placed her in a box and we buried her near where we found her in my mom’s yard. Though it was freezing cold, we all stood by while Jim dug a grave for her and lowered her into the ground. We held and comforted one another as a family and, though it’s hard for her to tolerate the cold at 77, my mom stood with us the entire time.

The outpouring of love and support we’ve all received on our social networks has been a comfort and solace to us on a day that should have been filled with laughter, joy and celebration. In a sense, it was. I think Sara Ann summed it all up well with these two tweets.

Still shocked & broken hearted over the loss of my most favorite two pound pup. Miss her like crazy already. pic.twitter.com/mnf5Z7bL

— Sara Ann Sanders (@SaraAnnSanders) December 26, 2012

But you know what, at the end of the day, I’m blessed. It’s been a sad, tough day, but I have a supportive family to be thankful for.

— Sara Ann Sanders (@SaraAnnSanders) December 26, 2012

Thanks, all, for you thoughts, prayers, kind words and support. It’s meant a lot.

Godspeed, tiny puppy. You were loved well and you are missed dearly. Rest in peace.

The View From 54

The View From 54

I never try to hide my age; I’m proud of each and every year. I always say, no cancer survivor complains about growing older. I cherish and revel in my birthdays, because each one is another little triumph over the big C.

For those of you who dread getting older, you’re just too young and foolish to know what you’re missing.

This summer, on one of our St. Louis trips, we had pre-game drinks at this great bar called 360, that’s on the 26th floor of the Hyatt at the Ballpark, right across from Busch Stadium. It’s our favorite hotel in St. Louis. The view is spectacular, and, of couse, we loved looking down on the stadium as the Cardinals took batting practice (sadly, closed to the public). We may or may not have creeped on them with the big telephoto lens.

From the top, we could see the buildings, the graceful ones and the eyesores, but we couldn’t see the peeling paint, the cracks in the sidewalk, the litter, graffiti, or any other marks of a downtown urban neightborhood. Busch Stadium, the Gateway Arch, and the beautiful City Hall were easy to pick out, and we enjoyed the overview of a city with which we are only slightly familiar.

Aging is a little like that view from 26 floors up. You see the traffic jams, the road construction, and if you could yell loudly enough, you could tell the drivers below to avoid those streets. Instead, you watch them unwittingly strand themselves in traffic. The higher you climb, the farther out you can see, and the smaller the people and problems on the ground appear.

I love the view from 54. It’s hard to believe how much I dreaded the empty nest; I could not have been more wrong. I love the luxury of eating popcorn for dinner if we want to; making spontaneous plans and running off for weekend getaways with only the dogs to worry about.

But most of all, I love what I know. That money, clothes, houses, cars and other material things are not where it’s at. It’s about the experiences, the memories, and mostly the people.

I remember many moments from my younger days. With the exception of my wedding day, I don’t remember what I was wearing, how much I weighed, or what kind of car got me to my destination.

I remember faces. Voices. Hugs. Tears. Laughter. Love.

Life is short. Make memories.


It was about 104 degrees when I took the photo above. I hate that the sky is so blown out, but I was on the 26th floor, outside, shooting into — and rapidly wilting in — the late-afternoon sun. Jim would’ve shot it much better, but I like to hold the camera sometimes too.

Post-Election Thoughts: Sportsmanship Award or Penalty?

Post-Election Thoughts: Sportsmanship Award or Penalty?

Thank goodness this election is over. Never in all my years of voting (and that’s quite a few) have I seen such divisiveness and bitterness.

I’ve seen rifts between friends over who is voting for whom. Over the past few months, many of my Facebook friends have talked about unfriending others or being unfriended due to politics. On Twitter, it’s simpler — just unfollow.

Nothing is sadder to me than to see politics outweigh relationships, a friendship (virtual or otherwise) lost because of disagreement on issues.

Yes, the issues are important. But they always are.

So I have a few suggestions for how we can begin to move on and maybe even repair some of the rifts:

  • If your guy won, avoid excessive celebration. Y’all know how little I know about football, but last week Jim was watching a game and I noticed a guy got a penalty for excessive celebration. In baseball, there are (unwritten) rules about showing up your opponent when you win. Don’t be a jerk about it. Be a good sport.
  • If your guy lost, no doomsday predictions about how this country is going to hell in a handbasket. Every four years, someone’s guy loses. And, though we’re not without problems, we’re all still standing. Don’t be a jerk about it. Be a good sport.
  • Back to sports. No team ever wins when they are at odds with one another; if you cannot play as a team you’re pretty much screwed. Winning requires a team spirit of unity and the ability to work together for the common good. Let’s put aside the political posturing and rhetoric and move on. And maybe even fix some things.

We teach our kids to be gracious in win or loss; but how do we model that grace today?

Ask yourself: If your kid won/lost a game and behaved as you are today, would he/she win a sportsmanship award or a penalty?

5 Ways to Get Ready for the Empty Nest. With Charts.

5 Ways to Get Ready for the Empty Nest. With Charts.

One of the things I’m proudest of is the fact that Jim and I will celebrate 26 years of marriage next month. No small feat to find someone who will put up with me for that long.

We have learned a lesson or two in the process, so I thought I’d share a few.

First, you must understand that we are two people who could not be more different. He is an Excel ninja; spreadsheets make me cry. And not in the good way. When we did our premarital counseling, they gave us a personality test. I was terrified. Knowing what the results would be I was afraid they would tell us, “Whatever you do, do not get married.”

The results of the personality test are summarized in the chart below.

Despite my trepidation, the counselor actually told us we were perfectly matched. He explained that we would provide balance to one another.

And we have. I’m the one with 10,000-foot dreams and visions, with no clue how to make them happen. Jim is the guy who loves intricate charts and putting together complicated things. He actually reads those directions that come in the package. I find them boring and unnecessary. This is why I help open the box, leave the room, come back when he’s done and say, “Oh, that looks wonderful!” See how that works?

One year later, we returned and took the personality test again. Here are the results of the follow-up test.

Each of us had grown toward the middle. The goodness of marriage is that it causes you to stretch and grow in ways you wouldn’t otherwise.

Here are my five tips for a wonderful, long-lasting marriage ways to avoid driving one another insane:

  1. Don’t expect your partner to think like you do. It’s like trying to teach a pig to sing. It’s impossible and it annoys the pig.
  2. Try to stretch. I’ve learned to be a bit more practical and he’s learned to let go and dream a little. Sometimes.
  3. Honor one another’s strengths. I used to do the bills, which is stupid. I’m terrible at that sort of thing. Now he does the bills and I find fun things for us to do so that we will have more bills.
  4. Find common interests. I’m smart. I got him hooked on Cardinal baseball. Enough said.
  5. Don’t sweat the small stuff. It’s a cliche for a reason. Ask yourself, “How much will this matter in five years?” Because chances are it won’t and five years go by much more quickly than you think.

Right after “I do” is when you start preparing for the empty nest. Practice these things consistently and, after you’ve raised the kids and they’ve got their own lives, you’ll have a great time together.

Favorite Things: September Baseball and a Cool Breeze

Favorite Things: September Baseball and a Cool Breeze

This week we took our second trip to St. Louis this season to see the Cardinals play the Houston Astros. We got on the road early as we had booked a stadium tour at 2:00 p.m. Each trip is awesome in its own way, but this one may be the best yet.

We stopped in at the Westin Hotel across from the ballpark. It’s a beautiful hotel within steps of the ballpark. As we sat down in the nearly-empty grill off the lobby, we noticed a guy sitting in the corner by himself, clearly engrossed in whatever was on his iPad and in his earbuds. He made no eye contact and was eating a large bowl of pasta.

I turned to Jim and said, “That’s an Astros player, and from the look of him and the way he’s acting, I’m guessing he’s the starting pitcher.” Jim sort of nodded in that “Yes, dear, I’m sure you’re right” kinda way. Y’all know what I’m talking about.

So we head to the stadium for our tour. The first place they take us is the dugout. And right here is where I start to freak out. Imagine in a couple of hours my favorite players will be right where I’m standing now.

I cannot believe I’m standing here!
Another dugout view, with Joe (right, in the navy jacket), our excellent tour guide
This is the phone. Yes, THAT phone. The left one calls the press box to notify them of injuries, etc. The one on the right calls the bullpen. The receivers are not there because last year Tony LaRussa thought a fan messed up the phone, so now they lock them away.
arm-dugout
OK, this is totally dorky, but I had to put my arm here, because it’s where Manager Mike Matheny stands during the game and rests his arm. So now he has my germs.
These steps go to the clubhouse. I was briefly tempted to run down them, but decided against ruining the tour for everyone and getting escorted out of the stadium.
These are the green seats. They cost $14,000/year for one seat. And you have to make a 10-year commitment. I'm pretty sure this is is the closest I'll ever get to the green seats.
These are the green seats. They cost $14,000/year for one seat. And you have to make a 10-year commitment. I’m pretty sure this is is the closest I’ll ever get to the green seats.
We also got to see the broadcast booth – this is the view from where the announcers sit.
So, as we’re standing right outside the visiting team clubhouse door, there’s a guy sitting there in Astro greys wearing headphones. Yup, the same guy we saw at the Westin. I looked at him and said “Good luck.” He said, “Thanks.” Jim gave me a dirty look for wishing the competition good luck.
So, the guy we saw at the Westin and in the hallway outside the visiting clubhouse turned out to be this guy - Lucas Harrell, starting (and losing) pitcher for the Astros. I think Jim was kind of amazed that I was right. But he'd never admit it.
So, the guy we saw at the Westin and in the hallway outside the visiting clubhouse turned out to be this guy – Lucas Harrell, starting (and losing) pitcher for the Astros. I think Jim was kind of amazed that I was right. But he’d never admit it.
It wasn’t on the tour, but we did get to watch the pregame show live, which was fun. I kept the paper that had their copy & notes on it.

As always, we did enjoy the game, though the Astros didn’t make it much of a contest. The Cardinals won easily, 5 – 0 and it was great to see former Memphis Redbird Lance Lynn throw five-and-two-thirds innings with two hits and two walks.

Matt Holliday yelling at the umpire about a called strike
Matt Holliday yelling at the umpire about a called strike
A little encouragement for the middle reliever
Catcher Yadier Molina crosses the plate after hitting a home run
There’s nothing like watching the game in person. You get to see things that the TV cameras don’t always show you. Like the third base coach giving signs to the batter.
Cardinals win!

The gameday atmosphere in St. Louis is a little like a big SEC football game or the Final Four – there’s a sea of red everywhere, probably more fans than not wearing Cardinal logo gear and everyone is excited and friendly. The hotel and restaurant personnel are happy to share their stories of World Series craziness and everyone cares about the Cardinals. It’s fun to be part of the excitement and I imagine that’s a lot like how it would feel to be a football fan.

3 Things to Understand About Teenagers

3 Things to Understand About Teenagers

Yes, it is possible to communicate with teenagers — in fact, I believe most of the time they really want to invite us into their world.

But what happens when they do?

When they want to share their ideas about music, clothes, activities, do we call it stupid or let them know how much better our way is?

Three ways to build bridges instead of walls with teenagers:

  1. Get with text. For teens and young adults, their primary mode of communication is the text message. Yet all too few parents are willing to adopt this quick, efficient mode of communication. Instead they complain that it’s silly and ask, “Why don’t you just call?” Instead of dismissing it because it’s less familiar, join them. Many times my girls texted me in situations in which they’d never have called, when they were out with friends, or even dates. They would let me know where they were and just chat about how things are going.
  2. Music. There has to be something you can find to like. When I was a teen (in the ‘70s), my parents hated all of the music I listened to except Simon and Garfunkel. My dad had derisive nicknames for rock and disco and constantly let me know how awful he thought it was. The only positive comment either of my parents ever made about my music was when I played Bridge Over Troubled Water for Daddy. He loved that song and I thought it was fabulous that he liked something I played for him. These days, much of what our kids listen to is remakes from the 70s. It’s so much fun to sing along and watch them wonder how I know the words.
  3. Social Networking. Yes, they spend a lot of time on Facebook and, increasingly, Twitter. It’s not stupid and it’s not, except in extreme cases, a waste of time. They are preparing themselves to live in this technology-saturated world, they are learning to network and to embrace technology, which is a positive thing.

One question I get asked a lot as many parents begin to join Facebook, “Should I friend my kid?” I say no. Let them friend you. Don’t make it a requirement or an obligation. My policy has been not to friend folks my kids’ age, so they don’t feel obligated or uncomfortable, however I’ll certainly accept their requests if they friend me, which they generally have.

As for monitoring their postings on social networks, as long as they lived under my roof, I had the password or the account was closed. Complete and total access. No exceptions.

If you want to communicate with teens, you have to do it on their terms, come into their world. When they invite you in, be a good guest.

Godspeed, Srannie

Godspeed, Srannie

sran-pr

I’ve felt unusually emotional the past couple of days, without really knowing why. It hit me sometime yesterday while I was trying to think through something at work. I couldn’t put my finger on it then, but now I think I know.

If you’re a mom, you feel what your children feel. When they are tiny and they have colic and cry, you’re at least as miserable as they are.

When they’re a little older and it’s chickenpox, ear infections, strep or a broken bone, you hurt too.

When they go to junior high and they feel like they don’t fit in, or the kids are mean, you remember when you felt the same way and you feel it all over again, but this time it’s worse because it’s your child.

The first time they fall in love and their heart breaks, yours breaks too.

You’re excited with and for them as they leave the nest, even though there’s an empty room in your home and a place in your heart that aches for them just a tiny bit.

As you watch them build their own lives and follow their dreams, their dreams become just a little bit yours, too.

I think that explains why, when I watched my oldest, Elizabeth, cross the finish line for her first marathon, I could not stop the tears. Thinking about the commitment, sacrifice and dedication it takes to complete 26.2 miles amazed me, but thinking about what that finish line meant to her brought the lump to my throat.

And maybe it explains why there may be a tear or two in a few hours when I see my youngest, Sara Ann, off to Zambia for a mission trip, which she has dreamed of since middle school. The fact that what she’s wanted for this long is to go to Africa and serve humbles me and fills me with admiration.

I don’t live through them, but being part of their adult lives is fulfilling in a way I never anticipated when they were small and I didn’t want them to grow up.

I’m so glad they didn’t listen.

Godspeed, Srannie.

Memories: Old and New

Memories: Old and New

We don’t travel a lot and we don’t take many long vacations, so this last week has been a little wild and epically wonderful.

First, Jim and I took a quick trip to St. Louis for a Cardinal game. We drove up on Tuesday for that evening’s game, arrived early in the afternoon and had a couple of drinks at the 26th-floor bar at our hotel before walking across the street to Busch Stadium.

I still get emotional when I walk into Busch Stadium. Maybe it’s the sheer excitement of the in-person experience, the enormity of the World Series victory or the thrill of the crowd and the crack of the bat you don’t get from a TV broadcast. But I think it’s more than that. It takes me back to days when I sat next to my dad in the old Busch Stadium. He taught me to use the scorecard to keep up with every play, told me about his favorite player, Stan Musial and explained the finer points of the game as it unfolded.

We saw an incredible game, with a dream of a pitching matchup: Cardinal ace Adam Wainright vs. 2011 Cy Young winner Clayton Kershaw with the Los Angeles Dodgers. As much as I despise the heat, the 102-degree game time temperature didn’t matter. The game was exciting and the Cardinals won. We collapsed in our cool hotel room afterwards, enjoyed a good night’s sleep and drove home on Wednesday.

Back to reality, to the daily routine and the Cardinals on TV — that night in an even hotter game (104 at game time) that went into extra innings.

This weekend we took the girls and their boyfriends to the lake. It’s a lot of fun to have adult children and our girls and the guys they have chosen are all genuinely great young people that we enjoy spending time with. We spent the entire day on the boat, swimming, napping, relaxing and just enjoying the company of the ones we love most. We watched a beautiful sunset on the lake.

There was some action-packed inner tubing that unfortunately ended with a trip to the emergency room when Elizabeth perforated her eardrum. She’s been in a lot of pain and we weren’t able to go back out on the lake on Sunday, but the girls and I had a nice leisurely trip to Wal-Mart while the boys unloaded and covered the boat.

Left to right: JP, Elizabeth, Sara Ann, Ethan

Few things go as smoothly as planned. What I love about our family is that even when they don’t, we find a way to enjoy each other even in Wal-Mart.

Parents of young kids, take heart. Your best times with your kids are yet to come. One day we’re changing diapers, the next we’re sending them off to senior prom and the next we’re discussing real-life issues and challenges with people we’ve come to respect and admire for their intelligence and character. Enjoy every phase and don’t dread the next; there is goodness ahead.

Kitchen Redo: Phase Two

Kitchen Redo: Phase Two

We aren’t quite to “after,” but the new cabinets are in. It took an entire day, and, of course we’re going to have to do some touch-up painting. And some drywall work as, shockingly, our furdown is not completely plumb.

Haven’t used the stove or oven yet, as we have no way to wash dishes. But the new microwave rocks.
Love that we have two extra cabinets over where the sink will be. And the drawers are cool.
Closeup. We love the finish on the cabinets.

Next phase: Countertops. Which come a week from this Monday. Yes, one more sinkless week.

Kitchen Redo: The Beginning

Kitchen Redo: The Beginning

We’ve been living with an outdated kitchen since we bought our house in 1991. Built in 1978, the kitchen was, and still is, of that vintage, complete with the lovely harvest gold stove and double ovens. The cabinets are original as well and the countertops date back to the 90s, when we were in the bright blue and white kitchen phase. We’ve repainted the cabinets so many times it seems they are at least a couple of inches smaller. Add that to the fact that our stove and oven are all but inoperative and it was time to jump.

So I decided to chronicle the process here.

Before

Sink side. Yes, those cabinets are closed. They’re that crappy.

So I was thrilled to see this:

Which contained these boxes, which contain our new cabinets:

And then yesterday these came:

A brand new stove with burners that I’m betting will actually work

A shiny new microwave that will give us back a couple of square feet of counter real estate

The Jim came home with this yesterday:

A pretty new faucet

And until it’s all done we have to live like this:

Cabinets unloaded – a mess

We’re hoping the installers will come put the cabinets in this week.

And here’s the real before picture: the day after we closed on the house, on our 23-year-old daughter Elizabeth’s third birthday.