first, there was a ceiling...

...and then another ceiling, and another, and another one after that...

...until we (he) finally hit the rafters in our little kitchen. Out came the rafters, and out came 100 years of dust and pseudo-insulation. Then the sledgehammer came out.

New insulation.

Then we (he) cut a hole in the wall (sorry about that, Dad). And started ripping out 100 years worth of drywall, wallpaper (so cool!), plaster, and more dust. The doorway between the kitchen and dining room was in an awkward spot, which was, well, awkward, given that it's maybe the most-used doorway in the house. Its new home (on the left) makes traffic flow so much more smoothly.

And tonight, there was more wall demo, which involved the unpleasant discovery that there was no insulation over the window (arrgh!). I am so grateful to be married to such a flippin' stud. He does all the hard stuff. I'm good for cleaning up after him. Monday we'll go buy some flooring and some lights, the electrician comes on Tuesday, then we'll take a deep breath and rip out the lower cabinets before installing the new ones.

starting time

I get kinda jealous when I think about all the people who have their gardens in the ground already, while up in the North we are just starting our coldest of the cold-weather seeds. Still, it's a joyful beginning, and we are so excited about this year's garden. We have plans to make it quite a lot bigger than last year's 8x10 plot, with hopes of producing enough veggies to freeze and can for the winter. Last year I froze a few tomatoes, some zucchini, a few peppers, and a whole lot of kale, and it was a veritable gold mine for cold-weather eating. I mean, how cool is it to eat a soup you made from your garden in February? There's a rare sort of satisfaction in that.

jumping back in

Every time I feel the itch to blog, I come up with some lame excuse. I've been wanting to blog again for a while now, but "getting back into it" just seems so... awkward somehow. I feel like I have to catch up. Be crafty. Have something momentous happen to me. And I know that's not true. So I'm jumping back in -- with the commitment to myself that it will only be for when I feel like it -- and because it's fun.

Nothing much has been happening.

Everything much has been happening.

We're homeschooling now.

Spring is coming.

The kids are growing like weeds.

Life is good.