Simply Mo

A fresh coat of paint transforms plain vanilla into rainbow sherbet. The color on my walls identifies the qualities and quirks of my character. If life is my stage, then the walls in my house are my set.  The change in appearance that colorful paint brings can seem an illusion and in some houses deception. The clever use of color can transport you to another place and time.

Entering the house for the first time they were met by the stale musty smells permeating their nostrils. All they could think about was the massive amount of work that lay ahead of them. As they sized up the rooms and determined the amount of natural light flowing in from the outside world, they had a vision. Nothing that a fresh coat of paint can’t fix.

Somewhere during the next few weeks, between the late nights of sanding, stripping, scraping, ripping, eating pizza, and inhaling Taco Bell they were able to see the light at the end of the split level tunnel. It was the gazillion gallons of primer that allowed them to begin creating their own stage set.

Plain vanilla was quickly becoming a dingy faded memory. The caramel toffee makes you feel like sunshine was poured out onto the hardwood floors, freeing the wood planks from under the deteriorating foam rubber and the 1960′s carpet. Ivory grape illuminates the kitchen, perhaps bringing life to it for the first time. Paired with the ebony on the cabinets this kitchen is happening! Sunburst orange captures the vibrant lifestyle of the master suite. Across the hall, happy camper green makes you want to do just that, move on in and set up camp.

Their first home was evolving from “Oh my gosh this is going to be a lot of work,” to “this feels clean, fresh, new, and most of all, complete.”  I love paint, so I was like a little kid in a candy store witnessing my nephew and his fiance’ begin their life together in their first home. The good things in life are truly worth the extra effort sometimes. Just imagine if these walls could talk!

Man’s feelings are always purest and most glowing in the hour of meeting and farewell. ~ Jean Paul Ritcher

Two decades and six years ago I waited 40 weeks to meet you for the first time.  You were right on time, no delays, no detours, just the pure, glowing, honest first impression.  It’s that pure glowing encounter that keeps us coming back for more. It makes us wait up all hours of the night for the back door to latch, or the proverbial text message that I am home safe and sound. I have sat up all night taking temperatures, administering meds, and just holding hands letting you know that we haven’t left your side.

This history allows me to calmly, without tears watch you maneuver through the metal detector and repack your carry on bag. You flash me that pure sincere smile as you head toward your gate. I choke back the tears taking a deep breath and before I can even start to feel sad, a total stranger walks past and says hello. I start to count the hellos and goodbyes just leaving the airport. The couple coming in as I am leaving, the man in the pickup truck next to my Element, and last but not least the lady in the parking booth. What is that song?  Oh yea, The Beatles, “You say goodbye and I say hello hello hello.” This is my first hello into the blog world.

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