Fifty shades of blue

Since we’ve moved homes, we had to redo the kitchen. We did have a perfectly functioning kitchen but Hubby wasn’t happy with it. Our last home reno unleashed the inner decorator in him and the kitchen had to change.



New counters, appliances and backsplashes later, we’re still ‘fixing’ the place. And by we I mean Shane, a lovely, very, very patient, handy man who listens to my hubby’s ideas and tries to bring them into the realm of reality.

We’ve got the counters on, backsplash done and appliances in. Last week, Shane started to paint.

We had selected a colour back in the summer. We took tons of samples, moved them here and there and everywhere and compared them under every light imaginable. We eyed them with careful eyes looking for any hints of an undesirable shade and discarded accordingly. Finally, there were only two…and then, incredibly, only one. Shane took it to the paint store, got gallons of the stuff and slapped it on the walls.

Paint colour is a lot like monkeys, neither can be trusted. I’ve seen innocent shades of white turn to pink once applied to a wall. Instead of the lovely, foggy shade of white we had envisioned, our walls came out a light, Easter egg blue that made us cringe.

Desperate to fix things, Hubby came up with his the idea of an ‘accent wall’ and dragged the hapless Shane with him to the store to consult with the paint rep. The paint rep being only fourteen, they turned to the internet. Between them and Google, they came back to the house with gallons of a darkish grey-blue.

When I came home, delighted with the fact that it was Friday and we had power, I found that my house had transformed into a multi-shades of blue. Since the walls curve in different angles, the sun changed the hue on the wall until they looked like different colours. The result is that walking into our home is a lot like going to Sea World…only with dogs instead of whales.

Thing is, we still have to paint the bedrooms…and Hubby, never one to fear colour, has decided the shade of the moment is no longer blue but green.

Hubby did know he had out done things because after Shane departed he asked, ‘are you going to post this?’

I told him definitely not.

New house, new scenes

I’m so resistant to change. I really don’t like it. It takes me forever to accept it and even longer to recognize it’s a good thing. We’ve been in our new house for just about 2 months now and I still resist calling it home.

To help move things along in my obstinate mind, I thought I’d share some of the sights we enjoy.

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These are the rocks in our yard. When we first moved in, they were half-burried in a corner of the yard, all on top of each other. Since they weigh more than a small car, we had to get a huge machine to move them and, in a spurt of originality, we arranged them in a sort of circle. We now call it the Mini-Stonehenge.

For some reason our grass has turned white. You might not be able to really tell in this picture but trust me…it’s white. Bizarre but there you have it.


We also have these happy little mushrooms in our yard and a not-so-happy nest of wasps that I hope our doggies stay away from. My husband ‘discovered’ it by accident while mowing the lawn and was bitten 8 times before he could make it into the house. Eight times. I’m thinking guard dogs are overrated. The thing would be to have guard-wasps. Now there’s a deterrent to unwanted visitors!


So, what do you think? Exciting new digs?


An odd little find

Our house hasn’t sold yet but, ever the optimist, I’m still trying to declutter. That was what led me to this strange find.


That thing has been hanging in our front entrance closet since we moved in. I’ve never really given it much thought. In fact, I don’t even think I noticed it…until I started clearing the coats. Then I picked it up and thought, what on earth are you?

See that small knob thing on the side? It’s a handle. That thing is a box. And it opens. So I opened it.



The red thing inside the box is a teeny, tiny binder. As in, binder with papers. So I opened that too.


It was written in 1968 and that freaked me out. I felt like Indiana Jones as I read the entries. It’s written by the previous owner (and only owner of the house) as they readied the land to make the house and started building. It ends some time in the 1980’s as they finished the last touches on the house and warns that the box should always be kept inside the house.


I was pretty thrilled to have found this historic thing inside our entrance closet. Not that it’s old enough to be of interest to any historian or anything but there’s something mystical about finding a message from the previous owners of one’s house. Specially a message with a warning. *Cue spooky music*