While I might have thought that it all started with the purchase of our house, it turns out that maybe a kitchen renovation was predestined. I fancy myself an independent thinker who marches to the beat of her own drum, but I have noticed there is a pretty predictable pattern that (white-educated-upwardly-mobile-suburban) women of a certain age have followed.
First there is education (college - maybe grad school). Then work and marriage - often followed by babies. Sometimes items 2, 3, and 4 come in a different order. No matter.
Then there is the marathon. It comes from the moment in life when we're feeling competent at work, our children (or sometimes dogs) are sleeping through the night, we've got the adulting thing down pretty well and we're looking for a challenge. Enter the get-in-shape-prove-to-the-world-we-can-do-amazing-things challenge. It might not be a full marathon. It could be a half marathon, a relay marathon, maybe a Ragnar. Sometimes it's a Dirty Girl, a triathlon or God forbid one of these. Some of us climb mountains or ride bikes too - the key is it's physical. And by-in-large, we kick a$$. We train. We sweat. We get up at 4:30 in the morning. We acquire treadmills and free weights. We learn to speak a new language with words like fartleks, tempo runs, burpees and fire hydrants. We find the best physical therapists that can be had. We do yoga. Weinvite drag our friends to these things. Our friends are happy to go - they are doing the same.
I have done these things.
Then we turn 40. We learn that unless we are planning to quit our jobs and work out full time, we can not sustain the marathon phase of our lives - besides, there are parties to plan. Dear reader, you may not know this, but 40 is the year of the surprise birthday party. Now I have had the benefit of being among the youngest of my people so I got to go to ALL the parties and learn all the best ways to turn 40 and when it was my turn, my dearest and I went away for the weekend (see previous note about marching to one's own drummer - gotcha fate! See also: attempted to throw the love of my life a surprise birthday party and instead ended up with a new roof. Maybe we're just not that great at throwing parties.)
This is, ostensibly, a story about a kitchen and the kitchen renovation is what comes after the 40th birthday party.
Sometimes it's a few years after (occasionally it creeps into one's 50s - especially if you went off and bought a new house in your forties to accommodate a largish family.) But it seems that renovating the kitchen is inevitable.
So very early this year, we started talking about what our new kitchen should look like. And just like that, we started looking for therapists.
First there is education (college - maybe grad school). Then work and marriage - often followed by babies. Sometimes items 2, 3, and 4 come in a different order. No matter.
Then there is the marathon. It comes from the moment in life when we're feeling competent at work, our children (or sometimes dogs) are sleeping through the night, we've got the adulting thing down pretty well and we're looking for a challenge. Enter the get-in-shape-prove-to-the-world-we-can-do-amazing-things challenge. It might not be a full marathon. It could be a half marathon, a relay marathon, maybe a Ragnar. Sometimes it's a Dirty Girl, a triathlon or God forbid one of these. Some of us climb mountains or ride bikes too - the key is it's physical. And by-in-large, we kick a$$. We train. We sweat. We get up at 4:30 in the morning. We acquire treadmills and free weights. We learn to speak a new language with words like fartleks, tempo runs, burpees and fire hydrants. We find the best physical therapists that can be had. We do yoga. We
I have done these things.
Then we turn 40. We learn that unless we are planning to quit our jobs and work out full time, we can not sustain the marathon phase of our lives - besides, there are parties to plan. Dear reader, you may not know this, but 40 is the year of the surprise birthday party. Now I have had the benefit of being among the youngest of my people so I got to go to ALL the parties and learn all the best ways to turn 40 and when it was my turn, my dearest and I went away for the weekend (see previous note about marching to one's own drummer - gotcha fate! See also: attempted to throw the love of my life a surprise birthday party and instead ended up with a new roof. Maybe we're just not that great at throwing parties.)
This is, ostensibly, a story about a kitchen and the kitchen renovation is what comes after the 40th birthday party.
Sometimes it's a few years after (occasionally it creeps into one's 50s - especially if you went off and bought a new house in your forties to accommodate a largish family.) But it seems that renovating the kitchen is inevitable.
So very early this year, we started talking about what our new kitchen should look like. And just like that, we started looking for therapists.
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