I’ve written before about things I’ve sworn I would never do as an adult. I’ve never gone camping. Big Al didn’t exactly have it written into our wedding vows, and I would hate to think that it would have been a marital deal-breaker, but we had some serious pre-engagement talks about faith, family, and our shared no-camping sentiment.
Most of my “nevers” are personal idiosyncrasies. I never watch horror movies. I can’t turn them off in my brain when I go to bed and if I’m up I make enough noise for the whole house, so it’s in everyone’s best interest to keep my brain scary thoughts free.
There are a few “nevers” that we’ve just learned. For example, I should never pack. I hate to pack. I’ve always said I will never move from our house in Western Hills. It makes me nervous to put everything in boxes. If you’ve ever seen my work desk you know I like all my notes and papers spread out in front of me.
I also should never be allowed to paint. I am horrible at it. You will see every painting mistake on each patch where I’ve worked; brush strokes, runs, see-through patches. I’m over-the-top talented at bad painting. So I never do it.
For the past 15 years the twins have happily shared a room. There are three sets of twins, currently living, on my side of the family. I have girl-twin cousins, now in their 30s, and my sister had a boy-girl set of twins two years after our set was born. We’ve always thought the boy/boy combination led to their closeness. I can count on one hand the number of times they’ve disagreed since they were babies. So they’ve always been content to share the same four walls.
But now it seems appropriate for them to have their own room. Big Al thought it best for them to personalize their space as well. The guys picked out their own paint color down at Brown Paint & Propane, with David Freund mixing in a little bit of teasing about our turning loose gallons of paint to two teens.
I happily headed off to work last week, with Big Al taking a couple of vacation days to supervise. Every hour or two I would get a picture sent via text message, showing me progress on the wall, advancement on the trim.
The last picture Alan sent was of both boys in Logan’s room, paintbrushes in hand, grins on their faces…only a few drips of paint on their skin or clothes. They were obviously proud of their accomplishment
Now comes the hard part, moving and unpacking things back in their now separate rooms. I think the boys would rather paint the whole house instead. Looks like we’ve finnaly found something they inherited from me.
Most of my “nevers” are personal idiosyncrasies. I never watch horror movies. I can’t turn them off in my brain when I go to bed and if I’m up I make enough noise for the whole house, so it’s in everyone’s best interest to keep my brain scary thoughts free.
There are a few “nevers” that we’ve just learned. For example, I should never pack. I hate to pack. I’ve always said I will never move from our house in Western Hills. It makes me nervous to put everything in boxes. If you’ve ever seen my work desk you know I like all my notes and papers spread out in front of me.
I also should never be allowed to paint. I am horrible at it. You will see every painting mistake on each patch where I’ve worked; brush strokes, runs, see-through patches. I’m over-the-top talented at bad painting. So I never do it.
For the past 15 years the twins have happily shared a room. There are three sets of twins, currently living, on my side of the family. I have girl-twin cousins, now in their 30s, and my sister had a boy-girl set of twins two years after our set was born. We’ve always thought the boy/boy combination led to their closeness. I can count on one hand the number of times they’ve disagreed since they were babies. So they’ve always been content to share the same four walls.
But now it seems appropriate for them to have their own room. Big Al thought it best for them to personalize their space as well. The guys picked out their own paint color down at Brown Paint & Propane, with David Freund mixing in a little bit of teasing about our turning loose gallons of paint to two teens.
I happily headed off to work last week, with Big Al taking a couple of vacation days to supervise. Every hour or two I would get a picture sent via text message, showing me progress on the wall, advancement on the trim.
The last picture Alan sent was of both boys in Logan’s room, paintbrushes in hand, grins on their faces…only a few drips of paint on their skin or clothes. They were obviously proud of their accomplishment
Now comes the hard part, moving and unpacking things back in their now separate rooms. I think the boys would rather paint the whole house instead. Looks like we’ve finnaly found something they inherited from me.
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