Restorations & Libations

I looked in the mirror this morning, and I saw an abundance of grey hairs. I panicked for a split second – is this experience aging me overnight?

Sigh… No. It’s white milk paint in my hair.

I just didn’t notice it since I had a few glasses of wine as a reward. But I shouldn’t be surprised, as I have paint on every finger and nearly every toe.

I’ve been a refinishing machine the last few weeks. With so much anticipation building during these “inspections/appraisals” days, I’ve decided to make productive use of my anxious energy. Plus, with a limited decorating budget for the cottage, I have been killing two birds, as it were, by acquiring a lot of less expensive, second-hand furniture with the notion of refinishing them myself.

I have to say, while I’m far from an expert, YouTube does make it relatively easy to learn. The midwestern late summer heat and the mosquitos that have been inhabiting my workspace are the only things keeping me from actually finding this enjoyable.

Oh, who am I kidding? I’m still finding it enjoyable. It’s been a rewarding and satisfying distraction, and I can’t wait to get back out there and finish the dining room table!

Insomnia is real, y’all…

Looking up at the ceiling or looking at my phone…listening to my son breath in the other room….

It’s what I do these nights when the rest of the world is silent.

I feel for you – those of you who struggle with this on a recurring basis, and I’m not trying to make light. I know I’m lucky that I’ve never had an issue sleeping other than when my son was born a decade ago.

Yet here I am…43 and unable to put my anxious mind to bed.

This project is the biggest risk I’ve taken in my life. Some might challenge me on that, as I’ve been married (and divorced) twice, I’ve had a child, and I even recently left a job after 17 years for a new adventure. But I’ve never felt like those were risks. Those were RIGHT.

It’s the same way I felt when I saw Mandolin Grove for the first time. It was just right….

But this is big – I’ve never bet my financial well-being on a dream before. This is crazy. And I’m not crazy. I’m steady. I’m stable. I’ve got my shit together. So why am I doing this?

For years, I’ve dreamed of this project — owning a piece of property with a quaint cottage. A place I could escape to as reprieve from city life or to remember my rural childhood living with my grandparents. But I’ve also wanted a place that would provide me with an opportunity to do one of things I do best that I still very much enjoy — entertaining others. However, now that I’m doing this, I’m questioning if I’m mad. Is this truly an investment for the future – or is it folly? What if no one wants to visit? What if I overextend myself? What if I’m not able to handle the work and commitment required to make this successful, when I already have a full-time job and young child?

And so I’m awake, panicking about the challenges, but also romanticizing about the possibilities.

I haven’t even closed on the property yet, but I’m thirsty to make this real…. or maybe I’m just thirsty from drinking too much wine and not enough water. That sounds like me.

Oh well. The train has left the station. In the end, it doesn’t matter. We don’t live this life to play it safe. “These are my earning years” they say, so now is the time to take this risk. It’s now or never.

So panic and insomnia be damned. I’m all in – my heart, my hands, my sweat, my dreams. I hope at least one of you stays in this magical place when this is ready. But until then, if you find yourself awake at 3 am, drop me a line – I’d love some company in the wee hours.

— Amanda Lynn