{ this post originally appeared on Molly Hunter Korroch's blog HERE }
It’s still snowing outside. It’s been a blistery white mess out there since yesterday afternoon. We tried venturing out. It was a fun walk to the nearby golf course where we snapped photos and marched across a completely untouched and unobstructed blanket of white. But when we turned around to make the long trek back, we realized very quickly we must walk into the storm to get back home. All the magic and romance of snow? Gone. Every few yards, we stopped, desperate to turn our backs on the gusty wind and flurries of flakes. Then we took each other’s hand, scrunched our scarves over our faces and persevered.
Now we’re back inside. I’m on the couch, listening to my “Whimsy Winter” Spotify playlist, writing (a prompt for my beautiful & TALENTED friend's blog). Ben is painting. Something about snow days as adults…you take advantage of the forced inside-time to actually get things done. Today it’s our back door. I was tired of it being white and, because I’m too indecisive and/or scared of commitment to paint color onto my walls, I decided to put a splash of something fun on a door. Because why not. Like I said, we're adults.
I have this thing about selecting paint colors for our home -- they are chosen solely by their name. And it must be a nod to nature: Gentle Rain, Orchid Haze, Sun Shower, Ocean Pearl, Falling Snow. I like words, and I’m sentimental, so it shouldn’t really come to anyone’s surprise that I’d care about something like this. Tonight, Ben is carefully painting our door in pristine Crystal Rapids. It’s the perfect mint-blue pop to match the new Anthropologie knobs on our pantry closet. Yes, I asked for hardware in my stocking this past Christmas. The standard knobs were just plain white wood...boring. I wanted something vibrant. Metallic! Patterned! Gold! After all, it’s all in the details.
Details. I once heard a quote, "Details are the difference between mediocre and excellent." And who wouldn't want life to be excellent? So me...I like making life all about the details. Smiling to myself that my husband knew exactly how much snow we’d be getting during the storm because he refreshed the weather app every ten minutes for the two days prior -- "we're definitely getting a lot." to verify we were definitely getting a lot. When he called me over to approve the finished door (and interrupted this prompt) because he won’t want to retouch anything later and he knows I’m picky. Correcting my Taylor Swift lyrics nonchalantly or putting just the right amount of Nutella in my latte. Powdered sugar sprinkled atop our brunch pancakes or arguing in the kitchen over how we should season the chili. What he obsesses over as he grades college students’ papers and then reading me their outlandish theories. Falling asleep to white noise from a cell phone, the ceiling fan on and the door open. The door has to be open. How he bought me a bright pink silicone cover to slip onto the video game controller designated just for me…as if it really needed the distinction. When he burns the bacon just the way I like it or puts cream in the mug before the coffee to avoid dirtying a spoon. How I know that “day three” of no shaving is the best 5 o’clock shadow on his angled face. Details. Making sure the shower curtain is always closed to prevent mildew or folding dirty socks to make sure they make it into the wash together.
Details are what make him him. What make us us. Tonight, I’m not telling Ben that Crystal Rapids might be too bright. I won’t try and explain how a softer color might make me feel calmer or suit our home better. It will irritate him. He’ll say it’s no big deal. I’m being too specific. Too…detailed.
I'll just wait to tackle that tomorrow.
xoxo,
D
