Monday, April 9, 2012
The rental house, that I will call my home for only a few more days, has a rather simple, white kitchen in it. Plywood cabinet doors with white pain painted on them... and the paint is starting chip off. The hinges are coming loose. When we moved to Oregon from Arizona in the summer of 2006, I didn't mind much. This house was going to be a temporary home. We were going to stay for a year, to see if Oregon really was all that it was cracked up to be.
Well, 6 years later, we are pretty damn sure, that Oregon is home, and will be home for many years to come. And with interest rates at an all time low, we were able to lock in a rate, that we never dreamed off, and bought a new house. When we started looking, there was no doubt in my mind that I would know right away, when I set foot into "my house". And yes, I set foot into this house... and I knew. I knew before even seeing the kitchen. But when my son called me to take a look at the kitchen, and I stepped into for the first time, that sealed the deal for me right then and there.
Yes, I spend an incredible amount of time in the kitchen. Like the cute little 1950s housewife... just with more 'tude... and without the pretty dress. After going paleo, the kitchen became even more of a place of production, of creation. Breakfast takes longer to prepare, snacks, cookies, brownies, I usually make all of them from scratch. Being able to do this in a beautiful kitchen, well, it means a lot to me. I feel more creative, more at home.
The kitchen in our new house will yet again be a place for people to gather. It connects to the dining area and living room. Life will happen in the kitchen. I'm ready.