FryDaddy and I began tackling a project that we'd been guilty of Talking Big about for over a year. While we're not quite done yet, we made a solid start and I'd say we're about halfway through the project. It's his fault, really. After all, he's a foot taller than I am and really - what am I supposed to do about that? So we'd always said we'd rearrange the kitchen and get things better organized. See, I enjoy cooking (and even baking, when that sugar-coated bug bites), but I've always been pretty indifferent about just where I put pots and pans and such things. (Note to self - this is how you wind up with not one, but three pasta measuring thingies that you never, ever use.) FryDaddy, on the other hand, takes cooking more seriously than I do - I'm one of those who has about a dozen recipes that I can whip up on short notice without a cookbook and thinks that cookbooks are, well, neat but hardly necessary while he can read over one and look up suddenly with a gleam in his eye and in two days, we're eating duck. Or paella. Or Cornish game hens.
It could have been a tedious chore. We had a good idea of what was going where, but you still have to empty everything out, clean the shelf liner (which was beyond disreputable), then reassemble everything. As is true in nearly everything short of a murder investigation, a sense of humor and a kickin' soundtrack helps. Skillets, along with pans for both sauce and saute, now hang jauntily from a rack installed over the kitchen window. (Alas, we didn't have the right pots to make the good ship Serenity a la Dr. Horrible.) We're halfway through the kitchen and have hauled one big box to Goodwill already, with another ready to go. And let us not speak of the items that wound up in the trash. Really - go through your kitchen junk drawer and I can almost guarantee you'll have at least two moments of "Why do we have this?" "Dunno. What is it, exactly?" Take my word for it - smile at each other, shrug, and toss.
Declaration of Independence. Good stuff there and most folks have never actually read the thing. Some of the best minds of the Enlightenment had a hand in Jefferson's masterwork and they weren't slouches. (By the way, Jefferson's grave marker mentions the Declaration, along with his work in founding the University of Virginia, but fails to mention his service as President. Hmmm.)