You’re not going to believe this. I don’t even believe it. People keep giving me kitchens, it’s like a theme. If you’ve been with me for a while, you may remember my precious English friend who showed up with food, hugs, and an adorable little wooden kitchen for the girls when Norah was two, Harriet was zero, and we were all unwell our first winter in England. I had pangs of missing her very badly this week as I re-lived my own history when a wonderful new friend appeared at our door with this gift for my children. I re-lived history–with an Indonesian twist. My friends, this woman brought this to us on a motorcycle. (Have I written about the Motorcycles yet? Oh, right-I haven’t written about anything yet . . . )
As soon as the kids were in bed I cleaned, de-stickered, sanded, painted, and varnished. Yes, I brought acrylic paints and gloss varnish from the States (though I forgot hair products and extra underwear). Doesn’t everybody?
We happened to be in a hardware store-ish place on Tuesday and I found some little cup hooks. Rounding off the expenditure for this remodel at 65 cents.
Within two days we had this. Wally’s been cooking on it all afternoon. (Don’t order the meatballs.)
You may not understand it, but I just love this. I love Jesus, who sends me messages in the strangest ways.