I went out into the garage yesterday and
sort of longingly looked around. We
bought a new garage door opener, but before we install it, I’m going to have to
make some room for the ladder. That
means rearranging boxes and sawhorses and a wheelchair and a walker and a kids’
bicycle and an antique horse riding toy and fishing paraphernalia … you get the
idea. A lot of the stuff belongs in our
already overcrowded attic. Much of it
belongs in a garage sale or out on the street to find a new home with whoever
might stop by to rescue it, even if the rescuer “happens” to work for the city
sanitation division. It is kind of an
overwhelming sight. I don’t think we
would come close to making a good episode of Hoarders yet, but there is a lot
of stuff in there.
So while I was eyeballing and mentally
planning my first move, Chris and Cailyn came out to check on me. And so it began. Chris was in full Spring cleaning mode. Now for most people that means actual
cleaning of things, and that is partly the case with Chris. But her Spring cleaning is oh-so much more. In most cases it means a semi-major (is that
a word?) renovation project, or at least some custom built-in feature is on the
way. Always an exciting time, believe
me. It would be a little easier for me
to handle if her plans were written down in architectural drawings, or even on
a list on the back of an old napkin. But
with Chris, the whole room takes on a life of its own. Shelves move or are created from a stack of
old boards. Piles of storage boxes are
magically transformed into … well, I can’t wait to see what. And it all happens in her mind. She can see it. And invariably … I can’t. Oh, I do my best, but I have to grunt my way
through by physically moving things around and then stepping back to see if it
works. Sometimes I get it right (by
“right” I mean it matches the picture in Chris’s head). Often … not.
But I have to be honest. It is a
lot of fun to do things like that with Chris.
That magical place inside her skull can come up with some truly amazing
things. I finally told her yesterday
that I am happy being the Chip to her Joanna.
Now how many out there understand that reference?
As it turned out, we did make one garage
decision and one house interior design decision. We might have gotten more done, but Cailyn
fell asleep in my lap out in the garage.
Endless design talk is just not the most exciting afternoon for a
six-year-old, I’m afraid. Our next step
in the garage transformation will be to build my new workbench. I’ve been revising plans for that for several
years now – written plans. We made some
new adjustments to those plans, and I think they are ready to go. I texted Nathan and got on his list for some
help installing the garage door opener. But
the interior design change was unexpected.
We made two end tables from the remnants of
Mom’s old dining room table after Hurricane Ike ruined it. One of them found a home right away, and is
now under the window in the dining area.
The other one, however got moved around from under the other window to
behind the couch and finally to its current spot – languishing in the garage,
waiting for the right moment when Chris’ internal vision meter kicked in and
the time was right for its new placement.
That happened yesterday. The
old/new end table is now resting comfortably in its new home, as if it was
custom built just for that spot.
Where? In the bathroom. Never would have thought to put it there, but
that’s why I’m just the brawn here, I guess.
And in keeping with the Galveston theme of the room, we brought in one
of Dad’s old deep sea fishing poles and a few reels to add to the decor. A “reel” bathroom transformation. Once again, I am in awe of my wife that special
little corner of her brain that houses that interior designer. Come by and ask to use our bathroom so you
can see what she has done.
Psalms
34:8 says, “Taste and see
that the Lord is good; blessed is
the man who takes refuge in him.”
Father, thank you for all the creative
ability you have given us. Chris
has found a great way to use hers. Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment