A List of Many Thanks

Looking around this year, I have a long list of ‘thanks’.  Many to people I’ll never know. Thanks to all the hard-working plumbers, cabinet builders and tilers.  

I now have a sink that works. 

Gorgeous hand built cabinets. 

Tile backsplash. 

More thanks to all the painters and flooring installers. I also have waterproof flooring that looks beautiful. 

 

Freshly painted walls and mantle look amazing. 

Even more thanks to a devoted reconstruction team of project advisers and planners. Last year was very hard and at times the problems seemed endless. But with their help and determination, our flooded house is now a cozy, beautiful home again. 

I know there are many others. Friends and neighbors and family who helped, advised, encouraged and supported me. The unsung hero’s of the reconstruction office. The extra helpers on the job site. The guys who haul in the supplies. And the ones who haul it all out. To the packers and movers. To all who I saw and all who I didn’t. 

Many Many Many Thanks. 

Rise and Shine

I’ve heard these words all my life. Sometimes it was an order or a song or a hope. This week, it feels like things around me are starting to rise and shine. 

The kitchen countertops arrived. Finally the cabinets and island are topped with the black quartz I picked out months ago. While, right now, they are still covered with blue protective plastic, I can see a working kitchen rising. 

A place to roll out biscuits. Cut out cookies. Make muffins and omelets and soups. When the cooktop and oven is finally in, I can’t wait to make mac and cheese from scratch. Bake scones and brownies and spinach pie. 

Oh my, tile too. 

Also this week, the tile was installed between the counter tops and the cupboards. I’ve always had a tile backsplash, which I loved. And I wondered and worried what this new tile would look like with the countertops. 

Would I like it just as much as my original tile? I wasn’t sure. As an artist, (ok, I have trouble using that word on myself), I do have the ability to visualize. Especially for others, it’s very easy for me to see what works and what doesn’t. It’s harder be so sure in my own home, especially this time, when the choice to change wasn’t mine. 

So I was surprised when it all came together. It’s not exactly what I envisioned but it works. 

Rising takes time. 

As I’ve said many times, I’m not a patient person. But what life continues to teach me is things take time. The water damage in July has taken a long time to fix. Our move in date has moved back another week, but tomorrow new floors are going in. 

So things are rising out of the damage. 

New cabinets. New countertops. New sink. New tile.  

And once all the dust gets cleaned up.

It will shine. Again.   

Glimmers of Light

I cried. But this week, they were happy tears. I walked into my demolished kitchen and saw a wall of newly built and installed solid wood cabinets. They looked so beautiful. I am amazed by and grateful to the wonderful local cabinet builders. 

When we helped design and build this house, we knew what we wanted, solid oak cabinets. We’d worked with a local builder and cabinet maker to design and build red oak cabinets, desk and island. Yes, we paid more but it was worth it. 

So after all the water damage, we fought to make sure we had the same local cabinet makers and quality wood cabinets again. It was a difficult fight. But it was worth it. 

Natural beauty. 

As an artist, nature and earth elements are a big part of my creative work. But I realize even before I started working in clay, which comes directly from the earth, nature was my inspiration. Coastal landscapes. Rocks. Trees. Clouds and skies. 

My first painting class was from a local landscape painter, Charles Mulvey. His work focused on coastal scenes that I knew and loved. But what I loved best was his ability to work wet into wet creating beautiful soft skies and balance it with trees and rocks. 

When I look at wood, whether it’s trees, floors or cabinet doors, I see shapes and images in the grain. The flow of the color and texture inspires me. 

Light after the fight. 

I don’t like fighting. As a child, I was surrounded by it and I hated it. I tried to find quiet and peace burying myself in books, making mud villages in the yard, riding my bike to the woods. The woods were my safe space. 

That’s why having real wood cabinets and floors in my home is so important to me. I can see now, why I got so mad when the insurance company refused to give us the money to replace our real oak cabinets.

I had to fight. And the fight was worth it. Finally, over 8 months after all the water damage, mold and demolition, I see the light. My home is being rebuilt. 

My woods are back. And I get to see them everyday. 

In spite of it all - Thankful

With Thanksgiving day almost here, it seems right to write about thankfulness. But for me, this year, it’s more than honoring a holiday. 

It’s about surviving a scary, covid year. It’s about seeing my children, once again, moving out and onward toward a better life. It’s about getting through every day with half a kitchen since July. It’s about finding new ways to create, cope and even cook a Thanksgiving dinner. 

Thankful for the park, walks and playtime. 

Almost everyday, my husband, darling Darby, my daughter and grandson walk to and through our neighborhood park. It’s a beautiful, bountiful place. Filled with trees, a lake, deer, beavers, otters, ducks, geese and herons. 

It’s filled with slides and swings and climbing things. But there’s one place my grandson loves best: bridges. He waves to them as we pass over and under them. He gets out and walks them from one end to the other and back again. And again. And again. 

When I think about it, life is filled with bridges. At every age and stage, there are many things we have to cross to get from one place in our lives to another. Bridges that need building and sometimes, rebuilding. 

Thankful for a plastic sink and dishwasher. 

Since July, I’ve had no sink, disposal, dishwasher or floor in my kitchen. I’ve washed dishes by hand in the laundry room sink. I’ve made coffee next to clean underwear. And put down a patchwork of rugs to make it safer to walk across multi levels of floor.

A few weeks ago, my contractor came in and installed a temporary sink, hooked up my dishwasher and my refrigerator’s ice maker. Three simple things I am simply very thankful to be able to use again. 

Thankfully and finally this week, the insurance adjusters approved our contractors estimates for reconstruction. The damage done in July 2021 will all be fixed now sometime in April 2022. 

Thankful for clay, throwing, pop ups and studio visitors. 

Because of the flood and the mitigation, I wasn’t able to use my wheel. Without clay in my hands to steady me, I’ve had some very dark and difficult days, weeks and months. 

But now, thanks to moving help, my wheel is plugged back in. It took a few sessions to get everything balanced with foot props and the wheel levels. And a few sessions to feel the mud lightening my heart, my spirit and my imagination. After just a week or two, I’m surprised to see shelves of work waiting to be painted, glazed and finished. 

The biggest encouragement of all is seeing the work I love to do, be loved by others. Given as gifts. Taken home where cups are sipped, bowls used, vases filled with flowers. I’m always thankful for my studio visitors, social media likes and pop up customers. 

Thankful. 

In spite of all the damage, I’m Thankful it will all be fixed. 

In spite of all the fear and losses, I’m Thankful for all the love and support. 

In spite of all the rainy days, I’m Thankful for herons, otters, and of course, bridges.   

 

More digging. More discovery.

 

In the last month, I’ve been digging deep. I could blame it on covid or the flood in my kitchen. I see it’s a combination of both that’s sent me into the dark, dusty corners of every closet and drawer in my home. 

First, I excavated a 4 drawer file cabinet, a smaller file cabinet and some shelves in my studio. I wrote about it hopefully, thinking I had cleared enough of the old to start anew. Alas, I was just beginning the dig. 

Everything and the kitchen sink. 

One day as I was doing the dishes in the laundry room(our current kitchen), I looked up and wondered. What was in all those cupboards? Yup, time for another dig. From there the dig site expanded to the pantry, kitchen cupboards, desk drawers and shelves and the closet under the stairs. 

From used up candles, batteries and Christmas light bulbs to flip phones, cds and a telephone book, yes many pieces of past lives were uncovered. I found tooth fairy treasures, prom pictures and a note my dear Gram sent to me when I was in college with a box of chocolate chip cookies. Please note: no crumbs were found. 

Piles grew. Somethings went to Goodwill. Some were given away. Some were recycled. And some like report cards, test scores and prom pictures went back into the hands of my children, now grown. Colorfully crayoned, handmade Mother’s Day cards and notes were sweetly tucked away again. 

Deep discovery. 

In the cupboard under the stairs, I found rows of paintings. Oil on canvas. Watercolor landscapes. Framed acrylics. And pastel portraits of my children. All packed away and forgotten. 

Once upon a time, I spent time painting on canvas or paper, drawing in pastel, using pen and ink over watercolors. None were signed or dated. I didn’t think about it at the time, I just did it. Then I put them in the closet. And forgot them. Completely.  

Creative digging. 

Ever since the flood in my kitchen, I’ve been unable to throw, roll, underglaze or glaze. Part of my damaged kitchen cabinets were pushed up against my kiln, so I can’t use it. And I see now, all that creative energy went amuck mucking out drawers, shelves and closets. 

Now, I don’t regret it. Clearing out is always refreshing. And the dig revealed sweet family treasures from the past. But the biggest discovery for me, was not just the old art I’d done, but the fact that I’ve always found a way to make art. Whether I had minutes, hours or days, with only scraps of paper, cloth, canvas, or clay, I found a way. 

So even if I can’t do clay right now, that’s all right. All I have to do is follow the dotted lines or colorful drips wherever they lead me. Who knows what I might dig up and discover?

Right Now

Sweet summer breezes flow through my window calming my mind and body. Being in the moment, any moment, even this small moment with total attention is my ongoing challenge. 

Today, I look up at the cerulean sky and cotton ball clouds. And take a good deep breath. That’s all. Just that. 

Because right now, with what’s happening inside my home and outside in the world, this is what I need to do. Maybe this is all I can do. Maybe this is all any of us can do. 

Breathe. 

Yes, covid cases are rising. Again. It’s scary. It’s maddening. And I really can’t do a thing about it. Yes, viruses live among us all the time. They mutate to survive.

Taking a deep breath is one thing I can do.  Other things we can all do to survive is get vaccinated, use good hygiene and practice social distancing. 

I’m grateful to be fully vaccinated. I’m relieved my husband and children are also vaccinated. We can see each other safely. And I can see my vaccinated friends, too. 

Right now.

It’s easier said than done. Right now, my kitchen has no sink, cabinets are missing and my floor is chopped up in sections of subfloor, old vinyl and laminate wood plank. This is due to a  plumbing failure and water damage. 

It’s been scary. I’ve had many sleepless nights. Yet, I’ve found help from family, friends and neighbors. The support and understanding flowing my way from their hearts is calming mine. Their stories, advice and helpful information gives me the strength and courage I need. 

Right here. 

Several people have said to me this week, “One thing at a time.” This is how I can focus. Cleaning up the dust from the demo in my kitchen. Washing my dishes by hand. Making blackberry syrup for pancakes. Weeding my garden. 

In the studio, I can do small things. Right here, I can glue magnets on my diversity rainbow hearts. I can take new product pictures. 

I can update my Etsy shop. 

I can get ready for an upcoming outdoor show.

Here on the window seat, I can rest for a bit. 

Breathe in the cool breeze and savor the sunshine.

Right now. 

Right here. 

First Covid. Now a Flood.

 

I haven’t written for two weeks because I’ve been in shock. What do you say when you wake up one morning and your entire kitchen is flooded? Other than unprintable expletives? 

After throwing every towel into the lake and turning off our water, we called the plumbing company. The very same plumbing company who had installed a new water valve just a few months ago. It was 7:30 in the morning but unfortunately, we were told they couldn’t make it out until 4pm. We spent the rest of the day continually mopping up the floor, emptying the bucket under the sink and trying to function with the water turned off. 

The problem: a failed water valve. Yup. The newly installed, new fangled water valve failed. The plumber installed another new one, at no charge this time. But we were left to deal with the flood. Call  the plumbing company, our home insurance company and wait. 

A great room that’s now not great. 

Our house is a great room concept. So it’s essentially one big room with the wide plank flooring. The flooring runs through almost our entire downstairs: laundry, kitchen, dining and living rooms. 

So does the flood damage. The water damage from the failed valve went under the floorboards from the kitchen sink at one end of the room to the living room on the other. Because it’s a plank laminate floor, the entire floor has to be ripped up and replaced.

Oh, that’s not all. Black spots appeared on the drywall under the sink. The drywall behind the cabinets on either side of the sink is also damaged. That means ripping out the countertops, tile and bottoms cabinets which is most of my kitchen. They are hoping the island is not involved but they don’t know at this point.

All of this is, of course, going to affect everything: baseboards, walls, paint. Yeah.  

No words.

After the evaluation, I was speechless. My husband and I helped design and choose everything in this house. It’s not just a house, but a loving home to our children and now grandchildren. 

And now we are left with mold and extensive water damage. The kitchen sink area is so bad, I have to hold my breath to use the trash can or sink, so I’ve moved things to the utility room. 

In addition, we’ve been left with the task of finding a licensed, honest contractor to do the restoration and rebuilding work. With the high demand on home remodeling, we are having a hard time getting even email responses. 

In the mean time, the water damage is festering and the floor buckling is spreading everyday. 

A good note?

I always try to leave my blog on a good note. Spread joy, creativity, hope or healing. I’m sorry to say, I just don’t have much right now except sleepless nights and high anxiety. But still I’ll try. 

I’m grateful I have enough work for an upcoming show in August. (I can’t get work done now)

I’m grateful for friend and family support and everyone fully vaccinated. 

I’m grateful for a good sign: seeing a mama deer and fawns trot by me on my daily walk.