Labor of Love

Ron and I bought a small house last year. A writer’s retreat for me, vacation spot for him.

At first I was itching to deck it out. Scrape up every last penny to fill it with beds and cabinets and pots and pans. But my husband said, “Hang on. Not so fast.”

And I’m so grateful.

I’ve come to realize that over these next four or five years (or six, or ten), we will add items one by one, slow and thoughtful.

Right now our sweet home has two queen size air mattresses, a much-loved love sofa (given to us by our real estate agent), and a wooden table with two chairs. The rest of the place is bare – but hey, what more does a writer need than a place to write (table), a place to eat (same table), and a place to sleep (air mattress)?

In Mexico I bought a ceiling lamp made of native wood with flowers carefully carved into the side. It’s not fancy. It wasn't expensive. But it's darling and crafty and was made with love by a man and his young son. We’re going to hang the lamp over the table.

One piece at a time.
Slow and thoughtful.

This summer we’re adding a fresh coat of paint. I’ve never painted anything in my life, and Ron isn’t exactly Tool-Time Tim, but who cares about hiring professionals and doing things the “right” way?

One room at a time.
Fun and special.

I’m looking forward to spending the upcoming summer days learning how to use a roller and paint brush...although any painting tips would be much appreciated. (Hey, by the way...why do painters always wear overalls?)