Change is afoot.
This weekend I painted our kitchen Robin’s Nest by Benjamin Moore.
It’s a light, almost transparent feeling blue-green. I think of it like Tiffany Blue’s flaky younger cousin, with long sun-bleached blonde hair, moccasins and mala beads, prone to zoning out midsentence.
The walls were in rough shape and I spent a lot of time patching the holes, I did my best with the rough plaster and uneven trim and tried to breathe new energy into these old walls.
It’s such a BRIGHT, light colour that halfway through when Adam came home and (after initially not even noticing) declared it “Seafoam green”, I panicked, had that “Oh shit, what IS this colour?!” moment that I always have halfway through, where the old hasn’t receded enough and as a result the new looks strange in comparison.
But once all was said and done, paintbrushes washed and tape removed (hahahaha are you kidding? I don’t use tape) it felt so bright and airy I couldn’t help but love it.
And when it came to putting back some of the things I took down to paint, I just…didn’t.
I like the space. It fits.
In between coats, we went shopping. And I found these little darlings
and then I discovered that they were named “Ruckuss” and I loved them even more and I bought them and haven’t taken them off since and Adam’s been complaining about the heel-marks in his shins from me kicking at night, but I just make hilarious jokes like: “Oh sorry was I making a RUCKUSS wearing my boots in bed again ?” Hahahahahahaha!
(Seriously though never. taking. them. off. Ever.)
LOVE THEM. Funny how a pair of tall boots the colour of caramel can bring my mojo back.
Tonight we leave for a three day weekend. I’ll divide my time between freezing my ass off on arena bleachers cheering for my mans, (a uniquely Canadian pastime) and breathing in sister time, city time, mom time.
We are only able to do this because Adam’s parents graciously offered to come stay here for the duration of our trip, and I don’t know if I’ve gushed about this before (and somewhere in coastal BC, my brother-in-law Chuck will be rolling his eyes at my ass-kissery) but if I haven’t gushed I MUST gush, about the wonderfulness, the explicit wordless selflessness of my in-laws.
Friends of ours are contemplating divorce because there is such tension between the spouse and the in-laws, and while this is an extreme example, I know from anecdotal experience that unfortunately ours is not a typical situation- it’s not, strictly speaking, “normal” that Adam and I truly enjoy and adore each other’s family as much as we do.
Seeing my siblings interact with Adam and the joy they get from him (and very much vice versa) is, for me, always one of the best parts of our family get-togethers. It reaffirms my sense that despite the sometimes difficult times, despite the moments when I look into his eyes and wonder how I could have possibly married a man who can eat McDonald’s for breakfast, despite the kilometres-wide chasm that divides our interests and opinions and feelings on how many times one should wear a pair of underwear between washings (Once, Adam. ONCE!), despite all this when I see him with my family I know I picked a good one.
And he came with a bonus, a big one. I love them not just in a generic “they’re good people” way, but because I know that they desire, simply and intrinsically, the best for us- whatever that might look like. They happily help when asked and, perhaps even more importantly, they offer without being asked. And they genuinely want to help.
I am used to this from my family, but it never fails to amaze and inspire gratitude when I see how fully this grace has been extended to me, how quickly (from day one) they reached out to include and welcome and love me.
I couldn’t be luckier.
(cue Chuck vomit)