Making Room for 2018

There are only hours left in 2017 - I believe these last twelve months have gone faster and aged me more than the 40 years before them combined. Had you asked me even 3 months ago if I'd be at a place to embrace all this year has held, content with where we are headed, I'd have denied it. However, as I sit tonight pondering the last 12 months and all of their firsts and lasts, I'm pleased to say contentment has found me - and she's undergirded by hope and anticipation of what lies ahead. Getting to these final hours has been a painful, exciting, grief-ridden, confused, unknown, surprising, delightful journey, and we've made it! I suppose that what matters most. Part of my 2017 human experience has been learning to let go - of people and places I miss so much it hurts, of puzzle pieces which are no longer life-giving - letting go has run the emotional gamut. What I've learned through the process is letting go has as much to do with making room for new adventures as it does in helping awaken us to what makes a soul sing. Tonight, I'm poised to close this chapter and walk into a new year having done some pruning to make room for new growth and new life and I hope you're in a place to do the same. Happy New Year - may contentment find you too.

Year in review in photos:

Transitions

Room with a View

Room with a View #2

Today is idyllic. It's Friday and it's snowing but the kids still went to school I'm perched on the sofa in our kitchen with our snow-laden deck to my right and our lighted Christmas tree in front of me. I'm wearing a flannel shirt, cozy socks and cozy slippers and I'm sipping hot cider. A snapshot of this moment suggests a Norman Rockwell painting, blanketed in the quiet only snowfall can create, anticipating Christmas. Despite appearances however, there are invisible jumping jacks that seem to be happening on a cellular level inside of me. There's that itchy kind of anxiety that's taken root in the pit of my stomach compelling me to determine the next step in the continuing saga of our transition to this new life in Georgia. It's not necessarily bad anxiety - if that's such a thing - a better description may be my body is telling me to wake up and pay attention to the signs of life around me and hop on the train to embrace them. I'm not entirely sure what that looks like. Commercials for 'transitions lenses' have started making me chuckle when I see them. Wouldn't it be dreamy if all our beginnings and endings were as simple as lenses automatically adjusting to light without us having to do anything except step into wherever we're going next?  Maybe that's the secret - stepping out and into where we are and allowing light to direct our paths.

I'm not good at trusting paths to reveal themselves. I'm an event planner by trade married to a problem solver by trade and we're better versed in the anticipation of risks and planned mitigation of them. The planner in me often gets distracted by the task list of a situation to the point I can lose sight of its feel. Recently, a wise friend counseled me to consider the question, "What do you love?" The question stopped me dead in my tracks because I realized I'd never considered approaching a discernment process regarding the next right thing from such a basic place. Initially, I didn't know if I could even pull together an answer - I've been so busy planning and preparing and settling and adjusting that I've lost touch with myself to the point that my first answer was, "I don't know." That was kind of scary - it was easy for me to define who I love and how I love but what I love had me stumped. If I'm honest, this is my M.O. It may be a parenting thing, it may be a coping thing, it may just be a Meri Kate thing. I find myself laser focused on tasks in the midst of life's upheavals, plot twists if you will, and once everyone and everything around me seems to have found a level of calm, I lose mine.

I've sat with his question for awhile now and answers are slowly forming - I had to reawaken myself to the notion of pondering with my heart. Once I started making that an intention, the seemingly cellular anxiety began to calm. Maybe that's what Advent really is - making space to feel very basic mutterings within our own souls so we may prepare every year for our own rebirth. This year, I'm resonating mightily with image of an infant born into new life, allowing myself time to experience the world anew. In some ways I'm deciding to encounter the world like a new baby so I may better understand the mutterings of my soul as our transition to this not-as-new place moves to a different level. For me, that means practicing listening to and patience with myself. It means creating space for holy events to unfold - knowing sometimes that means making difficult decisions. It means setting my task list aside for a moment to allow myself to sit with feelings around opportunities and really discern what the next right thing is/will be.

In the end, transitions are every day - some are just more obvious. As this Advent season marches on, my hope and prayer is for a new vision, a fresh approach and openness to what is next. May the paths reveal themselves clearly and may Light be our guide.

Dear Mr. Trump, part 2

Dear President Trump:

After the violence in Charlottesville erupted, I struggled as a human and as a parent with how to frame the events for my children. They're 12 and 9 - admittedly still children, but they're maturing; my husband and I believe our responsibility is guiding them through hard things in lieu of sheltering them from the world's realities. What I landed upon was the example of a child - at bedtime that night, my daughter and I cuddled in her bed and read The Story of Ruby Bridges. My daughter, Lydia, resonated with the bravery of 6 year old Ruby in a personal way - Lydia too has changed schools a couple of times and borne the brunt of assumptions and -isms. Lydia, however, has not had racial slurs hurled at her like fists, from adults and children alike. Lydia has not sat in a classroom alone because parents were afraid and mean enough to not allow their children to attend with her. Lydia never had to have escorts from the national guard walk her through crowds of angry people who hated her for the colour of her skin. For all of the things Lydia didn't have to endure, I'm grateful. I'm also reminded that because of the ancestry of my family, we are exempt from countless stresses that our friends of colour know as part of their 'normal'.

This is not the first time I've written to you, Mr. President. The first time I wrote was just after your election and I invited you to sit with me while I wished you well and offered my hopes for your time in office. I contend, you see, that if you do/lead well, our country does well. So today, in addition to the sweet tea I offered you at my last writing, I've brought snacks - this may take awhile and promises to be a harder conversation. I'm worried. I'm worried because it seems that the notions of decency and basic human-ing have fallen asleep in our country, dare I say our world. I'm worried because we live in a time where we're not surprised with someone drives a car into people. I'm worried because people among us are finding a voice to justify their own sense of twisted superiority just because they have a singular skin colour. I'm worried because our children are being desensitized to bully tactics and are growing cynical before they even reach puberty.

My friend and part of my children's "village", Whitney, shared some powerful and troubling words in the wake of the Charlottesville attack. Whitney and I worked together at a Presbyterian camp in the summer of 2006. She cared for my 9 month and 3 year old children while I helped direct programming for older children. When my husband joined us on the weekends, Whitney was the person to whom we trusted the care of our children so we could go out to dinner. Whitney was the first choice of my children as a caregiver because Whitney is FUN! She sings, dances and plays and loves people deeply. Whitney is now a school counselor in Kentucky and is an African American woman who I consider part of our family. She gave me permission to share her words:

"You know what NOT having white privilege looks like:

Going on a walk and being afraid that something could happen and all you want to do is just get your exercise.
Trying so hard to look so friendly and NOT suspicious while shopping.
Feeling so panicked anytime you are driving and see law enforcement.
Working too much or going so far above and beyond (because you love what you do) in hopes that you can maintain your position. I would have loved to have said to also gain some recognition but that is also a part of what not having privilege looks like.
It's seeing someone doing way less than you and gaining said recognition and going higher and further.
It's changing your vernacular so as to appear non-threatening and well educated when if I want to use Ebonics, that doesn't take away that I have a Master's degree.
It's trying to educate my young brothers, sisters, siblings of color that the world is different for us so we have to do things differently.
It's thinking and overthinking EVERYTHING you do no matter how small or insignificant.
It's trying to be one step ahead so that you can appear to be right on target or at least not so far behind.
It's thinking about all these things and more at 4:15 in the morning when you should be asleep."

It has taken me some time to find my words as I've struggled with where our country is in terms of race relations. My initial words after Charlottesville were guttural sounds, shouts charged with frustration - they needed time to marinate so they could become productive. I'm troubled with the blatant racism dominating headlines. I'm troubled that many say that we need to bend toward love with one breath and then spew venom at people with different viewpoints in their next. I'm troubled that I wish my family and I had stayed in Canada where we lived for four years because our home country, the country you have been called to lead, comes off as an embarrassment quite a lot. I'm troubled that it feels we're regressing - in the year 2017 - when we should be moving forward. Perhaps your legacy will be the bringing of these dark truths into the Light and while that is painful, it's important. However, what we do with them once we see them is a critical next step, a tipping point if you will. Finding my words has not been a fast or easy endeavour. If I'm honest, I worry I'll offend people - I'm a first-born people pleaser and the thought of not being liked is scary to me. If I'm honest, it's easier for me to sit with my thoughts instead of publicly speaking what my heart has known a very long time. If I'm honest, I have work to do on myself - I've said stupid things and asked stupid questions. Alas, we're at a place in history where honesty is all we've got. I was reminded of that when I read the story of that sweet 6 year old girl in Louisiana with my very own sweet 9 year old girl in Georgia.

Here's my proposal, Mr. President: Instead of trying to fix everything with policies and sweeping motions, let's make it safe for people, ourselves included, to find a place to start. We're all at different points on our journeys and we all have different narratives into which we were born. Let's start by affirming that all our stories simply are as of today. But today, let's cling to the fact that we, as individuals and as a country, have the power and the responsibility to examine our own stories and make change happen - revolution starts one person at a time. And, Mr. President, I beg you (and begging is not my forte) to model for us how to move forward in a positive, healthy way. You have the luxury and the weight of having a whisper that is far louder than anything I or my friends say with a microphone. The manner in which you interact with all our people demonstrates how we should do the same. Like it or not, you also bear the weight of being a partner with every parent, a colleague of every business leader, a voice to which leaders of every creed will listen - regardless of political persuasion. Help us find and become the better version of ourselves.

My commitment to you is this - I, at 41 years of age, will continue to draw my inspiration from 6 year old Ruby, and 9 year old Lydia and 12 year old Henry. As a person of Christian faith, my tradition clings to the leadership of a little child and compels us to follow His example. I see the hope that is in our children. I will continue to teach my own children to stand beside people who are set apart, include people who are excluded and sit next to people who sit alone. I will teach them to do that by being brave enough to do the same. I'm ready to help you make your legacy one of healing and I'm asking you to lead us toward that reality.

Let's get to work -
Meri Kate Marcum

Homebuilding

Making a new address a home requires intentionality and work - especially if you want it to happen with any sort of speed. What I've learned is that I need a full year for a place to feel like the home I call it - for a couple of reasons:

1 - I have a horrible sense of direction - HORRIBLE. It takes me a year to really feel confident in getting around town without the need for GPS. Even then, I often plug in addresses to Google Maps as my security blanket if I have to go from one place to another especially if I'm accustomed to going from home not between two places. I've learned to laugh at myself and that Philip is typically correct when he advises that if I think I should  turn left, I should actually turn right. And I trust Henry's sense of direction far more than my own - it's about being comfortable with your strengths and weaknesses and since 'north' to me is always up, I know I need help getting around.

2 - A year gives me time to experience some of the unique attractions and offerings of an area. We are funny, actually I am funny, because I want to experience the quirky and weird offerings of where we live. In Canada, the annual Whistler Cheese Rolling competition was one of my favourites (https://www.whistler.ca/events/canadian-cheese-rolling-festival) - seriously. In keeping with the cheese theme, I'm pretty pumped about the upcoming Grilled Cheese Festival coming to Atlanta in October. As I look to uncover these funky gigs, I try to spend our first year drinking in the 'high holies' of what our community has to offer. This summer gave the kids and me time to do Atlanta things - experiences people come here to do on purpose. Today I'm celebrating what we found that gives this area its flavour as we were tourists in our own town and now have a growing list of places to visit/things to do next!

     World of Coca-Cola

First, serious props to The City Pass Atlanta (http://www.citypass.com/atlanta) that allowed the kids and me to see 5 popular Atlanta attractions at a steep discount! We had 9 days to visit them all and I was determined to squeeze every penny out of our passes. We started at the World of Coca-Cola (https://www.worldofcoca-cola.com/) and we were excited to take along dear friends who were visiting from British Columbia and a new friend from our new neighbourhood! The opening movie made me cry - it highlighted how Coke products are part of many special memories for folks - wouldn't you know vignettes in the film were from Whistler, BC? It was a collision of worlds that made my eyes leak. I was prepared to be underwhelmed - how much fun can you really make a carbonated beverage? However, we really had a great time! We designed our own coke bottles, took selfies, enjoyed a 4-D ride and, of course, sampled Coke products from around the world. The sampling room was the kids' favourite and we all left sufficiently sugared and keyed up. The gift store is massive and has souvenirs suitable for all sorts of budgets before you walk out into Centennial Park where you may play in dancing fountains, throw a football or simply run off the sugar you just ingested.

We were handed samples as we walked in to learn about the  Coke's history - starting off with a bang!

Memorabilia central

"The Vault" protecting the secret formula for Coca-Cola

Photographic proof of the effects of excessive amounts of sugary drinks

     Georgia Aquarium

We brought the kids to the aquarium when they were younger and had a ball so we were excited about coming back. However, we'd also been spoiled by our experiences at the indoor/outdoor Vancouver Aquarium that we loved. We had a great time when we returned to the Georgia Aquarium (http://www.georgiaaquarium.org/), but I've got to admit, the crowds were uncomfortably overwhelming. I was glad we had gotten the tickets at a discount as I left EXHAUSTED from the human bumper cars we seemed to play as we navigated the different areas. The sea lion show was OUTSTANDING and we had lots of fun watching the skills that had been taught to the rescued animals. While it was nice to have different sea habitats enjoy individual 'pods' in the aquarium, it felt like much of the square footage of the facility was the common area leading to each pod and some of the tanks felt small because of that. However, the moving sidewalk through the main attraction did not disappoint - HUGE rays, sharks and fish with an almost 360 degree view. It was fantastic. When you come to Atlanta, I'd consider putting the aquarium on the list of places to visit, but make certain you're there when the doors open and escape before the crowds are too large.

View of the city from the parking garage - photo credit: Henry

Sea Lion inspiration

Tunnelling to be with penguins - only Lydia braved the crowded, tight space

She always makes new friends - wherever we go!

Homage to the seahorses - in honour of her swim team

Look at that wing span!

 

     College Football Hall of Fame

It's no secret that we Marcums have missed college football these last four years, missed it something fierce! We struck out on July 4, the four of us, to experience the Chick-fil-a College Football Hall of Fame (https://www.cfbhall.com/) - there are so many southern goodnesses wrapped in the name of this place and we had great fun! We spent two hours wandering, learning, experiencing and celebrating our family's favourite spectator sport and lunched at the attached Chick-fil-a after our grand time. The Hall of Fame does a fine job making sure even those who may not love the sport have a great time. Each of us chose our team upon entering and our lanyard passes allowed us to learn fun facts about each team as we wandered through the facility. We had the chance to be ESPN Game Day broadcasters, watch Clemson win the national championship (again) on virtual reality, create our own touchdown dances, and run drills on turf. I'd highly recommend the experience for any family with interest in college football - especially when you get to have a photo with the National Championship trophy during the year in which your alma mater is the reigning title holder!

First stop - Deshaun's banner

Wall of helmets

Go Tigers!

Lydia finds "The Judge" Jeff Davis' name on the Hall of Fame marquis 

It's always great to be a Tiger, but this year is even more special!

Though she be small, she is fierce!

The family friendly combine...

Virtual Reality - makes you look silly but sure is fun!

VR Henry style

If you know Henry you know he has a long-standing love for Notre Dame - this was a fun moment!

Lydia's victory face on the jumbo-tron

Toughness in action

     CNN Studio Tour  

We journeyed up the longest free-standing escalator at least in Georgia (maybe the US? I don't remember) to visit the CNN Studios (http://tours.cnn.com/). We weren't allowed to take photos once we got in, but it was fascinating to see where much of the world's news gets its televised start. Interestingly, the escalator originally led to an indoor theme park as part of the Omni Hotel that ultimately didn't work, but Ted Turner decided it'd be a great way to access a revenue stream by offering studio tours! Thus began this ability to explore the first cable news network. We all agreed it was neat to see, but we weren't sure it was  our favourite. Frankly, it probably meant more to me as I remembered more clearly when the network began. Our guide was fantastic and Lydia was chosen to help demonstrate the green screen technology which was fun. I'd recommend it as long as you're visiting the studios in conjunction with something else - if I had to choose a standalone activity, I'd pick another option.

Looking down on the World Congress Center

On our way UP to the studio tour

It's always amazing to think we live near the WORLD headquarters of anything - Atlanta is headquarters to lots of places and really is a cool place to visit!

Future meteorologist?

Or future ghost?

     Center for Civil & Human Rights

Our visit to the Center for Civil and Human Rights (https://www.civilandhumanrights.org/) was powerful, challenging and emotionally charged. I was glad our kids are a bit older as it's reading intensive and text heavy, and, frankly, it's a BIG concept for young people to wrap their heads around. I didn't take photos as I was too wrapped up in experiencing all that was offered. Despite the fact we've talked with our children about civil/human rights and been very frank with them, seeing photos, watching videos and learning of events and norms in our nation's history that are so unsavoury is hard to digest. But it was a beautiful experience as well. Lydia resonated mightily with the Freedom Riders' stories and Henry was deeply moved by the lunch counter sit ins stories and both were deeply disturbed that people ever defended and promoted segregation. When we entered the final room in which human rights are explored more specifically, we had frank conversations about why we make sure we know where what we buy comes from and who makes it. We talked about women's and girls' rights and the notions connected on a deeper level than ever as Henry and Lydia saw themselves and their sibling in the eyes of the stories covered. We left the space exhausted - completely spent - but with a renewed energy to embody the fact that we are all equal as we move into any place or phase of life. I would HIGHLY recommend the Center to any and all who have children who read well - be prepared to have hard conversations and name hard truths - it's a critically important experience.

In the short 4.5 months we've been in town, we've begun to home-build by experiencing our new region in a hands-on way. I've not even shared the stories of Six Flags and Whitewater adventures (stories to come, not to worry) or of Stars & Strikes Bowling or of Sparkles roller skating. In short, we're learning that we've landed in a culturally rich place full of opportunities to explore all sorts of facets of ourselves. And we look forward to visiting the King Center and the Jimmy Carter Presidential Library and the Kennesaw State University WWII & Holocaust Museum and hiking Kennesaw Mountain. The first third of our first year here has borne some lovely, wonderful experiences that have only been augmented by new and old friends and family and we look forward to the final two thirds of the year ingraining this place into our souls as our home in the truest sense. And this place, these people and these experiences are what tempers the grief and helps me to uncover the joy and wonder present here. And this place, these people and these experiences are ones I want to share with any and all who come visit - please know our door is open. Thank you for joining us in this journey!

     

     

In Search of Big Girl Pants

We've been in our house for a little over 3 months and trends are developing - while I appreciate the bend toward our new normal, I have to acknowledge the bending has exposed another layer of grief - one that I sort of expected, but not really. Today's a tender day - following a tender weekend - one in which I have come to accept there are some realities to which I must simply acquiesce. While I never intend to sound whiney, I do seek to be authentic and honest about what life's twists and turns mean for well-being.

In case you're curious, grief is REAL and part of it's MO is its unpredictable, sneaky ways. It has this way of inserting itself into a conversation to which it was never invited and attempting to take over. All the while those who are talking simply look at each other and roll their eyes while simultaneously thinking I really wish this a--hole would see themselves out of our chat... Grief doesn't give a care - just keeps right on throwing the wet blanket of heartache on top of whatever it is we're doing to try to build new life. I'm pretty irritated with Grief - we are not friends - but I've grown to understand that until I allow myself to really feel the weight of her wet blanket and swim in the heartache she ushers in, Grief will continue to come with some frequency. By allowing this intruder bits and pieces of time and staring her right in the face, somehow I may not have to entertain her quite as often. But the swimming in her feelings bit is unpleasant and exacerbated by every day life - needing new car tires, school supply lists, more bills than we were used to (who pays for garbage pickup? And damn! That trash chute was a gift), one more car, having to bellow for family to come to dinner because we're more spread out, parenting growing children - you get the picture. What are normal, everyday energy needs now drain more dramatically because the inner, personal pool of emotions is swirling more rapidly and viciously than typical, everyday normal. In short, these are tender times.

Enter irony - my life is great! Seriously - I have accepted a great opportunity to teach preschool this fall, our children are happy, Philip's work is great, we have a lovely home and we are surrounded by wonderful people and are so very much closer to our families. Frankly, there's not one single thing for me to complain about - not one! It's actually arguable that I'm being a brat. Yet here I am, publicly naming my funk because I miss the people who are still home to me in a place that's 3000 miles away. I miss walking everywhere and seeing snow on mountains and water everywhere and hearing dozens of languages as I walk down the street. I miss running into neighbours in the lobby or on the elevator after dropping the kids at school. I miss "our" places - granted we're auditioning a few potentials here. I miss city life. And the flower carts - ahhh - I rarely bought from them but so enjoyed walking past them. I miss the weather - sweatshirts in July were dreamy. I really miss my best friend.

All this to say - I'm reaching down to grab my big girl britches by the seams and pull them up and try to move on. But it seems I'm not as quick to adjust these days - I'm choosing to claim my snail's pace acclimation as a reflection of how deeply I fell in love with Vancouver. And that was a complete accident. I landed in that place intent to keep her at an arm's length since I knew it wasn't our forever home; what actually happened was she has forever claimed a piece of my heart that I'll never be able to surrender to another. At some point in the future I'll be able to honestly say I'm grateful for her claim on me, but today, today I'm just sad. I'm sad that Kirsten and I can't got to Delany's for coffee twice a week or meet for lunch at earl's or hit happy hour at Black & Blue or sit at a window table at Nordstrom and enjoy a half and half iced tea. So, Grief, I'm swimming under your wet blanket, but you won't make me drown. In fact, I'm putting you on notice - we've landed in a place that is becoming our new home in its own right and I'll one day (soonish) be merely waving at you as you pass by on the opposite side of the street. You've been warned.

Reinventing Normal

We've been in our new home a little more than a month. It's beginning to feel like ours - with our personalities shining through décor, photos, furniture arrangement and laughter. We've hosted our first small gathering. The garage is now where we park cars, not a place we store boxes. The last vestige of 'cardboard chic' décor has been relegated to one room in the basement that we'll sort through leisurely over the coming weeks. The guest room has a bed - only a bed, but a bed nonetheless and all exterior doors may only be accessed by keys we've personally distributed. Normal is revealing itself in stages - first, we found a school prep rhythm, we're playing with who will drive whom where and when and who will walk and on what days. We've got our first doctor's appointment and one of the kids has accepted their first birthday party invitation. We're getting there.

Normal is a funny word though. Actually, I looked up the definition because life seems to paint 'normal' as a completely fluid concept in our world most days.  Here's what the Google coughed up:

adjective
1. conforming to a standard; usual, typical, or expected.
"it's quite normal for puppies to bolt their food"

2. technical
(of a line, ray, or other linear feature) intersecting a given line or surface at right angles.

noun
1. the usual, average, or typical state or condition.
"her temperature was above normal"

2. technical
a line at right angles to a given line or surface.

From the get-go, I tend to think life embraces the right angle definition far better than the 'usual or typical' definition - as in life often feels like it jolts in a totally new direction, without warning, so as to prevent us from establishing a normal or usual state/condition. That said, establishing 'normal' as a typical state is one of my goals and it seems to be a goal I'm always striving toward without fully meeting. I'm OK with that because I am easily bored, but I must confess this quest for 'normal' is sometimes overwhelming and exhausting.

There are things I sorely miss about the 'normal' we'd established in Vancouver:
1 - school hours from 9AM - 3PM daily for both children
2 - afternoons on the playground for kids to play and me to catch up with my friends
3 - regular lunches and coffees with my bestie where we solved the problems of the world and laughed a whole lot
4 - running into neighbours in the lobby of our building or on the elevator
5 - walking everywhere
6 - being able to clean our apartment from top to bottom in less than 3 hours
7 - the scenery & lack of humidity
8 - the diversity of the West End and hearing all sorts of different languages

There are things I deeply love about the 'normal' we're discovering here in Georgia:
1 - having time one on one with my 12 year old in the mornings so we can talk and really know one another and having one on one time with my 9 year old in the afternoons for the same reasons
2 - walking to school with Henry on occasion
3 - being closer to family from whom we've been so separated these past 4 years
4 - the fact that we can spread out (our apartment in Vancouver could have fit inside the floor that houses the kids' bedrooms and bathrooms)
5 - having a yard and living on a cul-de-sac in a neighbourhood where our children enjoy playing with other kids almost every single day
6 - serendipitous moments that have affirmed we've landed in the right place at the right time
7 - having an ice maker and garburator (aka garbage disposal) - total first world indulgences that are decadent to have in our reality

Here we are - smack dab in the middle of one of those angular shifts in life and we're managing - dancing between joys and grief, longing for what the past held and anticipating what the future holds, clinging to who we know we are at our core and letting go of pieces that no longer fit. This thing called life is a constant ebb and flow and I'm grateful for how the experiences of our family have shaped us individually and collectively. My hope is that our normal will never be stagnant, that we'll always be in some small phase of redefinition so that we continue to grow into who we're meant to be. Here's to stretching, here's to those who've helped us get to this place, here's to those we sorely miss and those we've yet to meet. Thank you for being part of our journey.

Kitchen - oven/stove behind me

Dining Room

Master bedroom - the yellow wall will soon be gone!

The office - AKA last vestige of cardboard chic

Basement/playroom - darts, Xbox, board games, etc - will soon be light grey

H's room

Living room as seen from the catwalk above - red chairs will one day have a more subdued upholstery

L's room