This little gal… seriously awesome. And a little bit afraid of her birthday cand-oos.

Actual progress was made today, friends! Actual physical construction progress on The Kitchen! We didn’t touch the fridge or painting or any little details, but took apart this and this and reconstructed them into the main body of the kitchen. Both from the ReStore, remember. The nightstand and the bookshelves will both be used almost completely to make the oven, sink / range, two sets of side shelves, and a backsplash topped with a wee ledge. I am so freaking excited that we can salvage almost every scrap of those white shelves and make them into something – I didn’t expect that to happen, and thought we’d just be cutting the sections of side shelf that we needed and junking the rest.

The top of the nightstand is really thick, and when the “sink” fit into the first cut attempted I think the whole Cheat River Valley could hear us yelling excitedly and taking turns giggling while we just stood and admired and “aww”ed. This is going to be one damn cute play kitchen.

A good day. Now that Walt has lent us hours and hours and hours of his serious carpentry skills (if you look at the below photos and think “wow, it looks like he did most of the work”, you’d be right), Mikey and I can tackle a bunch of the other stuff. More photos to come. More bouncing off the walls to be done.

Destash to sell – some is gone, some is listed, some is waiting to go in the shop. Tell me if there’s something here you want!

Clothes & toys to the consignment shop.

CDs & vinyl donated to help raise money for an organization in town.

Bow-tie-pasta factory: $.36 x 4 sheets of felt
Vintage glass cabinet knobs: excavated from a coffee can in Pa’s workshop (um, what can I make with the other 10? I have lots of ideas…)
Daydreaming & attention to detail: cost of graph paper & beer & hours spent browsing flickr
Backsplash tiles: $.15 x 9 tiles from the ReStore; $.83 x 2 sheets of scrapbooking paper; resin that I already had
Mini-colander that I’ve been unable to find used for months: $6.99 at Marshalls
Actual skills & attention to safety: cost of lunch at Black Bear; patience of a saint

Anyway -

Oftentimes when I’d fall (/jump) into the creek, my aunt would put me in Doug’s dry clothes and I’d wear them home. This thrilled me to no end because then I got to wear – and keep – BOY UNDERWEAR. Constrained to the land of hearts, stars, mermaids, and pink, I lived for the motorcycles and GI Joes making their appearance in the laundry cycle. My parents let me wear them (thanks parents!) and I distinctly remember sporting the motorcycles one day in first grade – the same day my friend Joey showed up in a brand new puffy painted MTV denim jacket.

Anyway -

That kind of stuff – the day I walked into the kitchen with a golfball stuck down the front of my (Doug’s) GI Joe briefs and said “look Daddy, they have a pocket!!” – that’s kind of the epitome of my mentality as a child. I wanted to be a boy. They had more fun, easier clothes, better toys. I went through phases as a pre-K aged kid where I made everyone call me Kevin, and then Josh. I wanted (and got) Tonka construction toys instead of Barbies. I wanted (and got) my first pocket knife at age six. I wanted to wear boy underwear, flannel shirts, and converse. No pink. No dresses. And don’t ever touch my hair.

When Meggan and I became friends later in elementary school she was always trying desperately to fix my hair. “Please just let me fix your bangs! They look funny! They are falling out of their clips!” She was a girly girl and couldn’t fathom my tomboy ways. She hooked me up with her cousin Greg in fourth grade (ha!) She sighed (in a loving kind of way) when I showed up for the first day of fifth grade in brand new mini hiking boots that matched my dads, she in her bright white cheerleading shoes with the colored tabs that you can switch out to match your outfit (which was red and white… on our first day of fifth grade). She did not understand things like my rock collection, but loved me anyway. I did not understand things like curling irons, but I loved her anyway. She was the first one to notice and freak out any time I adopted any new little bitty femme habit.

So she, more than most of my friends, giggled hysterically and completely understood the disconnect when we showed up at her parents’ pizza shop on Saturday night with Hazel sporting the new shoes she’d picked out and suckered her grandpa into buying for her (my dad cares very much that his granddaughter is well-dressed and that her hair is combed… it’s kind of adorable, but very weird to me). Sometimes I don’t know where this kid came from.

Hazel is lucky to have an Aunt Meggan to school her in the ways of makeup-wearing, getting poker-straight hair to do anything but, and everything other girly thing under the sun.

Except nailpolish. I do love nailpolish. But usually only… brown. Brown glitter. :)

I brought you to the river to watch the fish swim by
and lay around that grassy bank and breathe in that blue sky
I brought you to these waters to see what you could see
the difference in the two worlds can’t help but frighten me…

- The Avett Brothers

Autumn has arrived… at least at my parents’ house, where trees started shedding their leaves and seed pods simply for Hazel’s amusement and collection, it seems. Time to listen to cool-weather music, button up, cut off all of my hemp bracelets until time to make more next summer.

Hazel pushed aside her “I don’t totally enjoy getting my hands dirty” attitude to make you some art :)