by Curtis Blais (with a little help from Copilot - AABB Rhyming Scheme)
It has been 11 days since my last post, much can happen in a short period of time...
~ Primer and Paint ~
The drywall was skimmed, the job was complete,
But Les left a dust storm that no one could beat.
It floated and settled in every last nook,
Like flour exploded from someone's cookbook.
It clung to the ceilings, the floors, and the sills,
It coated the counters and snuck into drills.
We swept and we wiped, we vacuumed with care,
Yet still found that drywall dust everywhere.
Then Amanda arrived with her painting brigade,
To rescue the walls from the mess Les had made.
With rollers in hand and a confident stride,
They brought back the beauty that drywall had tried to hide.
The mocha was fading, replaced by pure white,
As primer rolled out in the morning light.
Two coats were needed to bury the past,
Each stroke of the roller was smooth and steadfast.
The sanding resumed, but this time was tame,
Compared to the dust from the drywall game.
The kitchen got paint where the cabinets will go,
A hint of the future began now to show.
Then yellowish patches appeared here and there,
(We’re not quite sure why, but they showed up with flair).
The baseboards and trim got a sanding as well,
While lying in wait in their floor-bound hotel.
Each day things got brighter, the walls came alive,
As Amanda and crew helped the space to revive.
They’ll be back again, we know that for sure,
As trades come in rounds with their own little tour.
Like dancers in sequence, they enter and leave,
Each adding their touch to the home they conceive.
The painting’s not done, but the stage has been set—
A fresh coat of hope, and we’re not finished yet.
~ Railing and Spindles ~
The oak had been loyal, a warm golden hue,
But its time had come, and we sadly withdrew.
I gathered each piece with a sentimental hand,
From railings to sunshine ceiling, once proudly they’d stand.
It pained me to pull out that beautiful grain,
But new wood was coming, to soften the strain.
The old oak was loaded and sent on its way,
To George down in Calgary, where wood finds its stay.
A craftsman and friend, with a keen eye and skill,
He used some for cleats with precision and will.
A cabinet he built now waits to be hung,
With oak from our past, where its story’s begun.
Then maple arrived, one piece at a time,
And Ryan got started with angles and line.
His helper was sharp, though his name slipped my mind,
Together they worked with a patience refined.
The spindles were black, running sideways with flair,
No more vertical bars like a jailhouse stare.
Laureen had declared, with a grandmother’s grace,
That grandkids need freedom—not bars in their face.
The railing firm gave them just three days to go,
But renos aren’t built on a fast-moving flow.
The walls weren’t square, the corners were tight,
Each cut was a puzzle, each fit had to be right.
They measured and trimmed, they adjusted and sawed,
Till most of the railing stood perfectly awed.
But one final piece proved a shape to behold—
Not triangle, box, nor a cone to be told.
It twisted and turned like a math class ordeal,
An icosahedral, surreal kind of deal.
They cut and they carved, but the maple ran dry,
So someone will come back to give it a try.
Now the railings are in, and they look divine,
A warm touch of wood with a modern design.
The stain will come later, to finish the show,
And bring out the warmth in the rooms we now know.
~ Cabinets and Drawers ~
After all the destruction, the dust and the din,
The cabinets arrived—and the joy kicked in.
They came in a pile, stacked mile-high with pride,
And swallowed the space we had just opened wide.
Three-quarters the room was consumed by the stack,
Where the wall once had stood, now there’s no turning back.
The kitchen and dining had merged into one,
But with cabinets in place, that space seemed undone.
The old oak was gone (we won’t dwell on the pain),
Replaced by white shaker—new style, new domain.
It’s not that they’re bad, just a different feel,
A modern refresh with a classic appeal.
The uppers stretch high, nearly kissing the crown,
No sunshine ceiling to hold the look down.
The lowers are drawers—no more crawling for pans,
No more yoga poses or cabinet scans.
The island will hold doors beneath quartz so grand,
Where knees meet the counter and chairs gently stand.
That’s where we’ll stash things we don’t often need,
And send in the kids when we must intercede.
The pantry door hung was a moment to cheer,
Its presence now solid, its purpose made clear.
Marco, the carpenter, skilled and precise,
Installed the first wall with cuts clean and nice.
The second wall started, but hit a small snag—
The lights had been moved, and now caused a drag.
The holes didn’t match where the uppers should go,
So rewiring’s needed to finish the show.
Still, progress is flying, it’s lightning in pace,
And hope fills the air in our half-renovated space.
Our urban campout may soon meet its end,
As cabinets rise and the walls start to mend.
Next comes the quartz, once the measuring’s done,
And then we’ll be closer to calling it fun.
The heart of the home is beginning to gleam,
And the kitchen’s becoming the dream of our dream.
The reno continues...
