tiles

So, if I thought it was already bad, every time we go to Kales Avenue, things just look worse. But I try to go over there every day, to water, to see, to pick up the mail, to show my face.
At least the architect, Kathy Rogers, is back from Italy. Whenever we meet with her, it all seems so possible, so good, so happy. She is just really nice, and comforting. I am still not so sure, but here's what we have chosen for the tiles.
Erin chose this pretty Deco tile for the decoration in the kitchen. By the way, during a particularly stressful time at work, she chose this French CornuFe stove. She likes it for the color.



Our agreement is, she gets to have more of a say about the kitchen, so I get to decide the new bathroom.







I chose this tile,
hand-painted by a tribe of Native Americans in Oregon.





And then, I found this incredibly delicious marble at a place in Hayward. Problem is, the contractor wrote up a budget, and I am way over it. Guess I really do have extravagant taste.

Are we crazy? Self-doubt faze of remodel project

Sometimes you don't know what you have until it's gone. Like this is the back of our house as it looked, unadorned, in June.




Now, they have taken the roof off.




























This is why not to stand under the pull-down stairs. That is a brick that was dropped during the demolition of the chimney.










I love this beautiful woman

Why I am stressed out

Living Room

Dining Room

Kitchen

Certain things seem magic. After an afternoon at the beach in Capitola, I found a pearl in my oyster at Sam's near Half Moon Bay yesterday evening.

Flynkins Annex

It is such a shock to realize this is August, and summer has not really been experienced here at Flynkins Annex. It is foggier here than on Kales Avenue. However, note, I am growing my very first pumpkin. There it is. It grows noticeably every day. That comforts me, excites me.

I didn't make any effort to improve his soil here. I think he is going to build on this whole plot. The golden grass by the grill waves gently in the wind. Amber waves of grain. Petunia stalks it. Then she bolts into the house. Nervous Nelly.


This redwood tree is my view from the bed. I think of it as a picture window. See, it's not so bad here. It smells bad, that's all.

And it's not our house. But the next-door neighbors are nice to us, and they make happy sounds, happy conversation. Compare to our Kales Avenue next-door neighbor, nickname "Bickerson," with the really scary dog, Babe. He sings to her, so he can't be all bad.