A Story About Stories

{Warning: I'm about to post some of the lowest quality photographs you'll ever encounter. But they come with a story and in the end, perhaps the photos will be worth the eyestrain they cause. You be the judge.}

Tonight, as I was working in my kitchen, I glanced up at my open shelves and thought to myself, for the fifteenth time this week, that I really need to do something about the unappealing mishmash that these spaces have become. As I usually do when I have a problem that needs solving, I searched through my memory for a useful inspiration and remembered a story that would help me.

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This story dates back to February, 2010. A few weeks earlier, I had had a bad fall while skiing. (Actually, I fell down a creek hole; a wild and adventurous story that I will save it for another time.) My back was a bit sore - nothing too serious, but I was hobbling around a bit, and to make my life a bit more comfortable, I was wearing sweat pants. In public. Oh yes, I was.

On this particular day, I took one of my younger daughters to the orthodontist. Usually I just wait in the car while they run in for the appointment, but because my injured back was aching and cranky from sitting in those seats, I decided to trundle my bruised body up the stairs to the office. 

Once I got to the waiting room, my daughter checked herself in and I gathered up a random assortment of magazines and sat down to wait. It was supposed to be a short visit, but you know how that usually works out. Thankfully, I grabbed a nice big stack.

So I was reading through the pile, presumably catching up on the Jolie-Pitt brood's latest travels and who wore what to the Oscars, when I unexpectedly ran across a photo spread that stopped me in my page-flipping tracks.

Here's the thing. I have looked at a lot of pictures of kitchens. A LOT. I had seen many kitchens before I stumbled across this one, and I've seen many since then. I've scrutinized them from every angle, analyzed every tiny feature and detail, and learned a lot about what I want and don't want my own kitchen to be like. 

And this kitchen - the one I saw in the magazine - is just about the best darn kitchen I have ever seen.

I liked it so much that I seriously considered stealing the magazine. Oh yes, I did.

Then I got hold of myself and thought about asking the staff if I could just have the magazine. Or I considered tracking down my own copy at a newsstand somewhere.

In the end, I just grabbed my phone and took a few photos. Right there in the middle of the orthodontist's office. While my mortified teenage daughter looked on, powerless to stop me, I drew even more attention to my practically-pajama-wearing self.

Oh yes, I did.

As you can see in the top photo, my sweats show up on the right side of the image. I held the magazine on my lap as I shot the photos, thus capturing my normally-never-worn-in-public sweats and forever reminding me of my back-injury backstory. See how it all fits together?

What's so great about this kitchen? Let me break it down:

• For starters, I love the mix of brightly colored Fiestaware dishes with the stacks of plain white dinnerware.

• I love the contrast of grey and yellow painted surfaces with the natural wood tones of the lower cabinets, overhead beams and bits of wall paneling. 

• I love the neutral and muted colors of the room, set off by the bright pops of yellow, blue and green, and especially the bright orange.

• I love the open windows and simple lines of the cabinetry, balanced against the interesting mix-and-match colors of the dishes, the undulating line of the cookbooks and the varied objects on the upper shelves of the cabinets.

• I love the cupboard-style detailing on the yellow cabinets, and the glass doors that show off the all-white collection of dishes. 

• I love the thick wooden planks of that dining table, the baskets in the cupboards, and the look of the aluminum chairs.

• And oh my goodness, I love those square little cubbies for the wine bottles. So perfect and uniform and neat. I wouldn't want to dust them though.

All in all, this kitchen is the closest thing I have ever found to my dream kitchen, and I was so glad I stumbled across it, sweatpants and all.

* * * * *

Now, this little story about discovering my dream kitchen in a magazine while wearing sweatpants at the orthodontist office is interesting to me for several reasons.

Yes, it does give me ideas for how to improve on the current state of affairs in my kitchen. After refreshing my mind with these photos, I'm inspired to make a few simple changes today. That is no small thing.

More significantly, it reminds me that inspiration can come to us anywhere at anytime. That's why I choose to live life on the edge of my seat, because you honestly never know what might happen next.

And this story is also an important reminder about life's ups and downs because it proves that good things can definitely come from bad. Had I not experienced the horror of sliding uncontrollably down a 25-foot-long ice chute, slamming violently into a large hole in the snowpack, tumbling headfirst down a 15-foot-waterfall of granite rocks inside that hole, and finally coming to rest in a concussion-induced blackout while lying in the freezing cold waters of a creek in an underground ice cave at Stevens Pass, I probably would have never found this inspiring set of photos. 

But the main reason I told this story is because it illustrates the amazing truth that our lives are filled with stories. Small bits of our hours and days seem to have little significance on their own. It's only when we look back at these tiny moments, like colorful beads strung on a necklace, each one a unique shape and size, that we can see how they come together to make a surprising array of patterns and designs. 

We see the stories of our lives in those arrangements, and if we are lucky, we are able to tell them to others. Thank you for listening as I tell mine to you