I’m panting. My heart is beating a quick tha-rump from all the adrenaline, not to mention the steps. Up to the master bath, down to the basement storage, up, down, forgot my level, can’t find the pencil, where’s the fourth measuring tape (when will I learn to wear a tool belt? they’re sexy low on the hip which is exactly what I need to offset my greasy hair and the same clothes I’ve worn for a WEEK), another tile to cut since the dratted nippers broke this one, my palm is bruised, and I have to screw the hose to the tile saw AGAIN.

And by the way, you didn’t install the concrete board right because there are two tiny gaps at the back of the windowsill. But I was out of time AND money! But you should have done it right. But my paint sticks solved everything! And I need a my-noot amount of grout stirred into a plastic easter egg cup to finish those bits (NOT Home Depot brand, the “linen” color crystals for my floor tile grout smeared into black and red streaks). BUT…

…it’s all completed with such glorious results. My kitchen:

My fireplace (I also built the mantle from scratch on a WaVy BrIcK wALL) and matching slate entryway:

My master bath (window seat, shower, floor):

Final result: we listed our house this weekend. I won’t even get to live with my gorgeous tile. But I don’t care. I poured my love and soul into this rock and each piece is seared into my cells. I LOVE working with stone. Each 4″ x 4″ tile illustrates how beautiful our Earth is. She is romance (in the classical sense) incarnate.

G: grass (when i’m sad, i lay out on the grass and try to grow roots)
H: honey (sweet or sticky, not both)
I: industrious