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painty

I've got a journal going for the kitchen project here: Operation Less-Sucky Kitchen.
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becoming something else

I'm not going to get to play with the pretty yellow paint this weekend, because there's no way I'm going to get through the prep work. Every place I look, there's another spot to be spackled, another place which is just gross and is going to need more than the simple TSP wipedown I had planned. My life = spackle. sand. caulk. degrease.

It's entirely possible that my original timeline was just wildly unrealistic to begin with. I tend to overestimate my own productivity, or maybe it's more that I think, well I just read a book or a magazine article about what I'm going to do, so of course I'll just whip right through it. And then I'm disappointed when it takes longer than it did to visualize it. Still, I don't know how many things I'd actually start if I knew just what was going to be involved.

God is sort of like that; you finally reach out and grab ahold of Jesus because, in that moment of crisis or terror or whatever, you'd grab anything, and God will often do an extra glimmer to get your attention just when you need something to grab.

And then things get better - maybe because of God, maybe just because that's the cycle - and you're still sitting there holding onto God and then God lifts you up on your feet and says, babe, we got through that, and now we're just gonna take off a couple layers of skin that aren't doing you any good, see. Yeah, you'll be a little bit raw for a while, because the new skin doesn't grow in right away. It might suck sometimes, you won't enjoy all of it, but just hang in there, ok? Hold my hand.

And then you're sitting there all raw and confused and nothing that used to work to numb you out does the job anymore, but the shiny soothy thing you were getting from God before seems out of reach and did I mention that this part sucks? And then slowly you start to grow new, better skin, that's not as hardened. People can get in, maybe for the first time ever.

That's the time that interests me the most; the moment when you first realize that the relationship with God is going to require things of you that you are probably not prepared to give, and that it will probably hurt a bit. It's the time of purging, followed by the gangly feeling of not really having a definable self, because so much got thrown out.

I'm actually very uncomfortable with things that are on their way to becoming something else. I think this at least partially explains why I am, as Dennis says, in such a goddamn hurry to paint the kitchen and get our things settled in there. I'm not good at waiting. I'm inclined to whip through the prep work in a decidedly half-assed manner. I think that's why I've had so many false starts vocationally; I keep wanting to rush ahead, to figure out what God wants from me, and everytime I do, I feel the hand on my shoulder pushing me back down into my chair. Obstacles appear, wise words are spoken to me...the message gets through.

It's hard to accept that I am on my way to becoming something else.
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Thursday, June 10, 2004

it's morning and you are happy, dammit!

I have paint. I have Mellow Yellow and Green Meadow, and I am going to use them. The yellow goes everywhere in the kitchen, and the green is for trim and inside the cabinets. It's going to be a slap-you-on-the-head cheerful kind of kitchen. You will be happy, or the Virgin of Guadalupe curtains will kick your ass.

You know, after I make them. Which I will do. Soon.

edit - for more brilliant commentary on the hell of home repair, I direct you to this, which made me laugh really hard, between cringing.
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Tuesday, June 08, 2004

if you'd only cut loose, footloose

Yes, I hate stupid quizzes and 'what dog are you?' things, but this is rather fun and I scored 116.

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Monday, June 07, 2004

HellSlug

I closed a portal to Slug Hell on Saturday.

I'm planning to paint the kitchen next weekend, so I started prepping on Saturday. First stop: cleaning out under the sink. I usually don't wear rubber gloves when I clean, but it smelled...funky under there, so I grabbed the latex medical gloves I bought for painting, and got to work. There were some black garbage bags piled up toward the back of the cabinet, and I pulled them out and was moving them toward the garbage pail...and SLUGS FELL OUT! Ewwwwwwww. I hate slugs. They're like boogers with antennae. They're one of God's grosser creations. I'm sure they're all part of some master plan, but I'm hoping the plan does not include having them under my sink.

I dug back further and found a rotted spot in the back where I think they were getting in. I put a piece of wood over it and caulked all around it, so hopefully the portal is now closed.

Ewwwww.
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