Nothing says "I love you" like a brand new kitchen.

For two years my kitchen cupboards were sitting
unassembled in my bedroom, along with various
hardwood flooring boxes and a faucet set.

Thinking hard of how I could possible get them moved from my
bedroom, to the walls in which they were intended...
I came up with the perfect plan.

"Mr Happy, by the way... I'm having Christmas dinner this year."

Talk about dropping a bomb *huge evil grin*
My mother even got in on the act.
"We can't come till your kitchen is done, where will you
put us?"
I'm still wondering if Mr Happy had his own ideas where to
"put" everyone, but he's too sweet to voice them.

So, every weekend for the past month, we have all been working
on my kitchen, renovating, tearing out walls, putting in
cupboards. I even designed my own pantry.
All solid oak. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Two weekends ago was the hardest.
Tearing up the OLD floor to make ready for the NEW floor.
This is where Dave went from Domestic Goddess to
"Dave the toolmeister", AUGHAUGHAUGH!!!!

I sat amongst the various manly tools, holding up screwdrivers,
hammers, power nailers, power staplers, some
things I couldn't decipher, most of which were snatched
quickly out of my hands by a worrysome Mr Happy.
I'd like to think it's because he didn't wish to see me injured.
Though deep down, I think he was worried I'd break
his cherished power sander.

We ripped up the old flooring, Mr Happy handed me a
hammer, a scraper and a hardhard.
The hammer and the scraper I understood.
I had to nail down the whole kitchen floor. But a hardhat?
There's nothing above me, I'm working on the *floor*.
He just thrust it at me again...
"No offense Dave, but knowing you, you might hit a nail,
bounce the hammer from the force and drill your head"

He had a point.
Gimme the damn hat and shuddap.

So from 7:30am till 4:30pm I hammered, I stapled,
I bent over on my hands and knees slaving away,
all the while realizing that this is alot harder work
than I realized.

During the process of all that hammering, I grew very still,
jumped up, ran to Mr Happy and proudly shoved
my hand up near his face, beaming.
He just looked at me and said
"Yeah? What?"

I wiggled my hand some more. Again the blank look.
I pointed with my other hand to my very first
work-induced callus. I am very proud.
So much in fact that I stopped work to call everyone
I knew, so THEY knew how hard I've been working.
Hard enough to have a real genuine honest to goodness
work-induced callus.

"Wolfgang Hammerstein".
I believe that to be a distinguished enough name for a
hard earned callus.
(Thus giving credit to the instrument that gave
birth to said war-wound, and
"Wolfgang", cuz it's fearsome).

It was done enough for Christmas day.

Christmas morning at Dave's was pretty much like
any other Christmas morning at any other home with
spawn.

I think the first noises I heard were at 4:15 am.
A simple shout from Dave's bedroom quiets the house.
"I DON'T THINK SO BOYS"
The next noises were at 7:00am.
Sorta like... quiet whimpering, subliminal begging that urged
me from my warm comfortable bed. Dragging into the
kitchen for AT LEAST a cup of Earl Grey. Mr Happy in his
shorts, sorta scratching and blinking into the light of the
kitchen... and two little spawn. Running circles... when not
staring at the kettle, willing it to boil faster, comments like
"You don't want that too hot anyway Dave"...

I felt evil. I felt like prolonging the agony. Knowing they
wanted to run like the demons they are to the rec-room
downstairs where Santa deposited a bunch of loot the
evening prior. More comments as Damian sticks his nose
through the doorway leading to the staircase....
"I think I can smell Pokemon."
Lucifer tiptoes to the doorway, takes a deep sniff.
"Yep, yep it smells like Pokemon" Nodding at his
brother.

I slowly pour the water into my cup, casually dipping
the tea bag.... watching the spawns heads raise and lower
as their eyes lock on the dipping bag... UP....down.... UP....
down.... Like how your dog watches you eat chips, following
your hand from the bag to your mouth. I turn to get the milk
and sweetener... Only to see Damian holding the Splenda
already, Lucifer offering to pour the milk already in his hands.
ANYTHING to speed up the process. Mr Happy still sorta
scratching and rubbing his eyes.

Finally the tea is made. The boys are poised and ready at
the staircase. "What, no ladies first?" Sez the evil Queen of
the Castle. The sigh quite loudly and move to allow me access
to the stairs. My evil smile grows louder.
I start down the stairs, stopping once in a while,
only to feel the bump of two little bodies on my backside
every time I do and finally reach the bottom allowing
them to tear into the rec-room and dive headfirst under the
Christmas tree.

The anticipation was worth it.
Presents were opened, shrieks grow in the air,
mingling with the shrieks of all the other spawn all across the
country.

In a nutshell, Pokemon rules.
Oh... and some little tart... Brittany Spears.
Damian, at 10, has a poster of some half naked (Ok well
maybe not half naked, but she shows more torso than
Shania Twain) Spears upon his wall. Right next to the
macho Jean Claude VanDamme. Jean Claude I can
understand. Everyone wants to be him. Muscle, accent,
those eyes....... Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm.... but Spears?

I made a dinner that would have satisfied the
pickiest diners. My parents and younger brother
shared dinner with us... Huge turkey, stuffing, taters, gravey,
cauliflower with cheese sauce, fresh buns, a big ham with
pineapple and cherries and it's own gravey... it was....
delicious if I DO say so.

While packing up the leftovers, I muttered
"Geez what am I gonna do with all this stuff"....
Lucifer walks by, and simply states "the pigs will eat it".
The pigs?
Someone watches too much barnyard programming.

All in all, a pretty terrific Christmas, Dave even got some new
diamond earrings out of the deal. Now... it's a waiting game for
the new millenium.... will Dick look different?
Will we all go up in a puff of smoke?

*Looking at the sky*..... we shall see.

Take me home! Main Dave's Chronicles