Wednesday, March 31, 2010

In progress

We (ahem, ok DH is actually doing it while I supervise) are still working on the island. We've DH added the beadboard, new trim, primer and two coats of a Martha Stewart onyx. It is drying while I type. Next step will be adding a sealer/clear coat and then putting the doors and drawers back together. I haven't decided yet whether I should sand some of the edges and add a glaze to those areas or leave it be as is. Here she is right before she got her second coat of paint:


I know, those countertops with wood trim are ugly. Can't wait to rip them off! But can't you see the improvement already?? Goodbye oak! Amazing...the power of paint.



Of course after the island we'll tackle the other cabinets and hope to do a white with a glaze. We've budgeted for a pretty granite counter and new sink. I tried to convince DH to agree to a farmhouse sink but for whatever reason he has a 'thing' about them so most likely a nice charcoal color sink. When we're done we're hoping for something like this:



But I'm also really digging these green ones.



What do you think???

Monday, March 29, 2010

Out with the oak!

We're taking the plunge and updating the kitchen after looking at ugly golden oak cabinets and dated countertops for over a year. We had originally budgeted to rip out the cabinets and put in all new beauties, but as fate would have it hubby was laid off again and we blew the budget on paying bills. Now that he's back to work we are eyeing our tax return and we realized that we had some money to play with. Along with a vacation and fixing our patio which looks like it's forming it's own set of Rockies (more about that later) we are going to spend part of it on our kitchen. Yea! When we moved into this house in 2008, we started by getting a few appliances and replacing the nasty-ass ones with stainless. The kitchen was a mess and had been "updated" by the Realtor and some fly by night outfit. The fridge that was left here had serious things growing in it, even after it had been 'professionally cleaned'. I should have taken pictures but it didn't last 24hrs after closing before I posted an ad on Freecycle and it went happily away to someone's garage.

So now while we have limited funds and I'm dreaming of granite, we've decided to go down the scary path of PAINTING. You heard it, painting the oak ourselves. Hubby and I. I know, crazy. And because I realize this could be disaster in the making, we have decided (umm, I have convinced hubby) that we should start with just the island as a starting off point. You know, test the waters, see if we are getting ourselves in way too deep. Crazy people? Yep, that's us. Did I mention that I have family coming to stay with us on Friday?

So here is a look at that ugly island.


Excuse the pizza boxes and weird angle. The Negotiator took it while he was playing with the camera a while back. I forgot to take 'Before' pictures and so this is about as good as it gets.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Spring in Denver

So this is what Spring in Denver is like. I know you're thinking bulbs and trees flowering, grass sprouting, birds chirping...but Denver weather=Crazy.

One day it's like this:


The next it's like this:



Welcome Spring!

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

One could do worse than be a swinger of birches


Freshman year. English class. Homeroom. Assignment: To memorize and recite a Robert Frost poem. Little did I know that I would remember this forever. That teacher did us well by assigning us to memorize a group of words that when put together provides a sense of peace in an otherwise chaotic life.

Can you imagine actually having the time to take your notebook and lay amongst the trees to ponder, to write, to revise, to listen to the wind and the sound of bird and crickets and rustle of grasses?

Yeah, me neither. I'm a mother. Who has time for that?

Birches
When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy's been swinging them.
But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay.
Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust--
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
So low for long, they never right themselves:
You may see their trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm
(Now am I free to be poetical?)
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to fetch the cows--
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could play alone.
One by one he subdued his father's trees
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. He learned all there was
To learn about not launching out too soon
And so not carrying the tree away
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig's having lashed across it open.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Why Tres Marie?

Because my father calls me 'Trac Marie' and always has.

Because when I was 13 and everyone wanted to change their 'y' to an 'i' or dot their 'i' with a flower or heart, I dreamt about legally changing my name to something that sounded cool, French, different...Tres Marie with the little accent over the E...Trés.

Because it represents multiple generations in my family. My Grandmother was Marie Therese and her mother, Theresa Marie. It was once suggested to me to name my daughter 'Tessa Marie'. Somehow I just couldn't do that to her. Tessa reminded me of the fat lady in the circus. No offense to any Tessas out there of course, but I didn't need to think of the fat lady and peanuts every time I called JJ in from playing in the backyard.

When faced with coming up with a blog name and bewitching hour (kid's bedtime) approaching, nothing else came to mind and Tres Marie stuck.

It is what it is.