Remember when Oprah ran the Marine Corps marathon a few years back? Afterward, she told an interviewer that everyone, no matter how athletic or practiced, hits a wall before breaking the tape. “It does not matter what your religion is or who you worship — you will see Jesus at mile 22.” 

I swear, I saw Jesus as I stumbled through drafted Chapter Three. But I kept trudging along until (thank God!) I broke through that barrier. I’m revising my sample pages today, and I can actually see the finish line for the entire proposal. 

Plans for the week: 
Revise and send sample chapters to my critique partners 
Write book overview and chapter outline
Keep the kitchen remodel moving forward (running water would be a miracle)
Playtime with my “baby” sister, who’s coming for a visit! 

How ironic, that the rains arrived in Southern California just as the dark clouds over my head are clearing.

First and foremost, I’m close to finishing the third (and final) chapter for my memoir proposal! On Monday, my chapter was a caddywampus quilt of ideas, barely stitched together. But I somehow managed to tune out the construction noise downstairs whilst I galumphed in my galoshes with my muse. My words are starting to sing now,* and it looks like I’m on track to meet my Jonowrimo goal (i.e. finish my memoir proposal by early October so I can start sending out submissions). 

And after a ten-week drought, we may actually have running water in our kitchen again on Monday!  I’m grateful to the new contractors for their conscientious work and open lines of communication. What a relief to know we’re in capable hands, finally.

What’s the weather like where you are? I hope it’s warm and sunny.

*Quick, finish this paragraph before the metaphor dissolves into a muddy mess!
 

It seems right to update last week’s lamentations with a few things for which I’m grateful. 

My newest chapter, “Through a Glass Darkly,” is finally taking shape. God willing and the pipes don’t leak creek don’t rise, I think I’ll be ready to send out a few proposal submissions by early October.

How much do I love Larry the Honey-Do Man? We hired a guy who’s so comfortable in his own skin that he’s not afraid to show up on our doorstep wearing a pink polo shirt with a heart icon next to his company name. Even better, he’s completely housebroken and extremely competent at fixing All Things Broken. Of all the contractors I’ve been dealing with these past several weeks, this guy’s a keeper.

Subway salads, plastic forks…last night, we had an indoor picnic! I also broke (long-distance) bread with a second-generation evangelist whose father held tent revival meetings in the same areas and era as my dad. He’s got a cottage industry on the side, manufacturing (what else?) tents.

My older son’s spiritual quest led him to Judaism. After a couple of years of serious study, he converted about this time last year. I love what he’s teaching me about Yamim Noraim. I’m praying for, working toward Shanah Tovah u-Metukah — a good and sweet year to come.

Anyone wanna guess which of these two topics will generate more buzz around the watercooler today?

-Last night, Britney Spears shocked VMA Award audience members with her bejeweled but lackluster performance of “Gimme More.” 
 
-This morning, General David Petraus appeared before Congress to testify about our military presence in the Middle East. As expected, he asked legislators to “Gimme More (Time in Iraq).”

High-stakes appearances, both of them, each in its own way. But which one will get top billing?  

For the most part, I live a peaceful and positive life, but some recent events are messing with my mind and cluttering up the nooks and crannies of my spirit. I apologize in advance for this long Jeremiad; it’s certainly not required reading. But in writing this journal entry, I’m hoping to do some internal housekeeping.

I do realize that some people would consider my leaking pipes a blessing in disguise; turns out, the damage was significant enough that my kitchen needed a complete makeover. We’re lucky in the sense that we can make that happen. Let’s face it, even with insurance, not everyone would be able to afford even the most basic repairs. Witness: the still-unhabitable areas along the Gulf Coast. 

Having lived through an unsettled childhood, I know firsthand how it feels to be homeless and hungry. Today, I am neither. We’ve been eating out every night while our kitchen’s inoperable; for many, that’s an unimaginable luxury. I am blessed with a wonderful family, a lovely home, and plenty to eat. So I’ve tried to put a positive spin on things, even though the project’s now exiting its eight week. Still, I find myself struggling to remember that home is where the heart is — that feeling “right at home” somewhere doesn’t require a clean house or a functioning kitchen.

 

As I looked for images for my entry about school supplies, some long-buried memories bubbled to the surface. It was a fun show-and-tell entry, but I hid the lede, which was about having to do without. I imagine almost every child has, for curiosity’s sake, taste-tested library paste. I ate it for an entirely different reason. When writing that post, I was remembering the humiliation and hunger I felt, in equal measure, as I sneaked paddles-ful of someone else’s paste to help fill my empty tummy. Lord help me, how dare I complain when all my basic needs are being met, and really, I want for nothing?

 

Coincidentally, two comic strips were juxtaposed in my morning newspaper. Even though they represent oppositional perspectives, each of them depicts some important thoughts I’m mulling over today.

After eight weeks of living in a house of disrepair, I’m feeling very vulnerable and needy. In many ways, I’m relying on the kindness of strangers. I count on contractors to do the job they’ve been paid to perform, but in some outrageous and awful ways, one of them has let us down. In sandpapering away our trust, he’s also taken the shine off my spirit. I find myself retreating to my office and calling on my friends more than ever. Oftentimes, I log onto LiveJournal, a place where I can learn and laugh — and where I once again remember that no matter what happens on the first floor of my house, in my second-floor office, I am a writer whose world isn’t limited (thank God) to that god-awful mess downstairs. I’m grateful to all of you, my friends, for your ongoing gifts of support and understanding. Please, may I have another?

 

But I also realize that I alone can create the environment (home and spirit) I want to live in. At some point, our house will be put back together again, and I know it’ll be beautiful and will reflect my preferences better than before. In the meantime, I need to remember, as the second comic strip suggests, that Paradise is a world we construct and carry inside our heads and hearts. Emerson puts it so eloquently: “Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not.” I can’t keep wishing away the days, hoping I’ll find peace and happiness at the end of the remodel. As of today, I’m on a search-and-rescue mission for Paradise; I know for sure that I won’t find it in my kitchen. 

Nearly eight weeks after a leaky pipe destroyed our kitchen, we have new cabinets and a working microwave! It’ll be another few weeks before everything’s put back together, but can I say how wonderful it feels right now, to see this kind of progress?

 

Lookie here: I’ve got two, side-by-side pantries, replete with roll-out shelves! I’m in heaven — or will be, when this is all finished.* 

 

Every project winds up with at least one hitch in its get-along, and this one’s certainly had its share: 

• After one contractor flaked out on us, Lowe’s had to do a last-minute scramble to find us another one.
• The cabinet installer punched a few extra holes in our walls. Translation: more patching, more painting.
• Someone tripped a circuit breaker and forgot to fix it. Translation: we lost a ton of refrigerated and frozen foods. 
• One upper cabinet’s too narrow and has to be replaced. Translation: four-plus weeks of additional wait time.

• Much of our first floor is covered with dust, debris and drops of paint. Our kitties like to blend these elements together into impressionistic works of art, using their whiskers and paws as paintbrushes.

Remodeling a kitchen is a lot like revising a manuscript. Discuss. 

 
*Cabinet finish and Cheerios packaging probably look different on your monitor than they do in real life. I think I need to figure out how to use my flash — or PhotoShop, at least.