Contact Me

Any time - drop me an email
miriamhendeles@gmail.com
1-323-243-7116

Contact Me

Any time - drop me an email
miriamhendeles@gmail.com
1-323-243-7116

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Remodeling Mania

When we made the decision to renovate our kitchen a few months ago, it was a long time coming. I had fantasized for years about having a brand new kitchen with shiny appliances, fancy wood design and smooth granite countertops. Recalling the many magazines I had perused over the years, I knew it was going to be fun, even with the budget we had in mind.

As we said good-bye to our old kitchen which over time had developed the “distressed” look, we looked forward to newer, pretty ones…

Soon came the mess of the demolition. IMG_2245

 

But we were overall kind of  relaxed.

Then came the decisions. I recall telling the contractor, “I’m not picky. You lead the way, show me a few choices and I’ll tell you what I like.”

I never thought I’d be the type to fuss over paint color or wood design. At the end of the day,  I knew what I liked, what I didn’t liked, and I would make quick decisions and move on. Please don’t give me too many choices, I told the guy in charge. I have my life and as much as I was happy to have this new project in my life, I didn’t want to become too engrossed, obsessed, or materialistic.

Well, here we are, six weeks into the project, and as the saying goes, “the more belongings, the more worries.”  My husband calls them “first world problems.”

Last night I couldn’t sleep because I suddenly realized in middle of the night that maybe a few weeks ago when they did the electricity,  they didn’t put enough outlets near the counter. What if I want to plug in my laptop over there? I ran downstairs to check (true story) and sure enough there were two outlets in that area.

The other day I argued with the contractor because I want a built-in microwave  and he claimed there’s no room in my kitchen layout. He says I’d have to sacrifice cabinet space. He claims we “discussed it in the beginning.”

First world problems. Hubby is right. There are so many problems in the world now, and all I have to think about is my silly kitchen?

Today the discussion was about the color of the cabinets. I thought they were white and now they are looking off white to me. What’s going on?

The lighting. That’s the excuse they give. When the flooring came, I told the guy it was too dark. He looked at me like I was nuts.

The contractor talked me out of that worry pretty fast. I find that I’m very gullible these days. The bathroom tile came out the wrong color.

“Oh, really?” I say. “You mean it’s okay not to have a ______ (fill in the blanks) even though that was my dream? No room? Okay, okay.”

Truthfully, as I read this post over again, I want to delete it all change my attitude. To get my priorities straight. I don’t want to be preoccupied (forever) with granite, tiles, flooring, cabinets, and appliances. I don’t really enjoy this kind of stuff, but I am getting sucked into it somehow.

I really would love if all these decisions would be made for me by the guys who know better. But there’s that little voice inside me that wants to control, who wants to pick and choose.

It’s okay to pick and choose. It’s okay to enjoy the process, I tell myself. But when the process starts to take over my life, that’s not okay anymore.

After all, as my husband says, if these were my worst problems in life, I’d be pretty okay. And he’s right.

There are several things I’ve learned from this experience. One is that when I get overly engrossed in little things in my life, I have to take a step back and breathe deeply. It’s all going to be okay.

The other is not to judge those who are more materialistic, especially myself! It’s okay sometimes to like nice things, isn’t it?

Breathe. Breathe. Anyone have similar experiences where you have to take a step back and relax? Tell me about it in the comment section below.


Clueless Bubby?

I often find myself sitting amongst people at a wedding, class, bar mitzvah or any random event. The conversation that I involuntarily overhear goes something like this:

“So what camp are you registering your kid in?”

“I’m putting him in a backyard day camp – where there are 10 kids, and it goes till 12 pm, which works well…”

“Really? Who is in charge there? Does she take kids who are not toilet trained yet?”

“I’m not sure – you’d have to ask her, but she’s really great with the kids…”

As I’m writing the above dialogue, I’m thinking that some young uns out there will read it and think several things: First, why in the world is a grandmother placed at the same table as younger folks?  Good point. Don’t know the answer to that right now. Second, they will note that I got some of my facts wrong. Another good point. But honestly I only hear bits and pieces of the chatter. It’s a good chance that I am misquoting a typical convo.

I’ve been there and done that. I have moved on. And to tell you all the truth, I’m embarrassed to admit: I am somewhat clueless about all of that. Continue reading


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