Part of me had this grand idea of what my engagement would be like. (OK, that's an understatement. Turns out I had expectations out the yin-yang, but those are stories for another post; stories that are only funny in hindsight given the sheer lunacy. Again, for another day...) Coming from a background in aesthetics and being in front of the camera, I imagined my usual beauty routine would be taken to another stratum in preparation for my walk down the aisle. And while I still intend to indulge in some beautification closer to our wedding, I have to laugh at the current state of things. I have bright red scratch marks covering my hands and knees (thank you, Scrappy VonBadKitty), there is dried paint in my hair and nail beds, and my feet are straight up koala bear status from standing for hours in flip flops.
I may not be glowing, keeping a sensible diet, or pruning myself for our epic soiree, but I can't help but smile often knowing that M and I are cultivating our home. It's a tremendous gift to own a piece of land and know that for the foreseeable future we will have a roof over our head. (A newly foil-lined roof, mind you.) I'm stressed like whoa trying to balance everything; make no mistake about that. But when we've got Ella Fitzgerald crooning through the speakers and are laughing together in our work grubbies, climbing off our ladders to clean up each other's paint drips and steal a kiss, it's hard not to feel like I'm living someone else's life. It's surreal in the most amazing way, and yet it's our reality.
We have a home.