In some ways these pictures are long overdue, but really, we haven't regarded our home improvement endeavors as finished or photo-ready despite the fact that the workers have long gone and we are washing dishes in a bona fide dishwasher (and not the bathtub anymore). Maybe it is hard to see it for what it is, but we notice what is missing more than what is there. All around us, we spot the critical pieces of furniture that are missing, doors and spots on the ceiling that need to be painted, and makeshift solutions waiting for a more permanent configuration. We still have to add a backsplash in the kitchen and the contractor has a few more items on his punch list at our house.
Today, with the slightest gesture, things seemed to come into focus. We drove an hour to Temecula to pick up some barstools I had spotted on Craigslist for a bargain. For whatever reason, those four stools made our kitchen somehow feel suddenly complete. Forget the fact that the chairs that go with the kitchen table are waiting their turn to be recovered or some of the dishes are still in storage. Tonight we ate our take-out seated at our very own kitchen counter, gazing across the granite at the under counter lights (ooh, we'll need to tell Wally that we want the light rail up after all since you can see the lights from here), and admiring the beauty of this giant project that we suffered through for months.
It is hard to tell what came first - this new sense of home-ness or the feeling of home that Christmas trees bring, but, whatever the inspiration, we bought our first west coast tree today on our way back from Temecula. We opted for a Noble fir from Oregon over a Frasier fir straight from the mountains of North Carolina, both for its favorable carbon footprint (how many thousands of miles did the Frasiers have to travel?!) but also for its more appealing price...which was still more than we were used to paying back in NC, where you point and they cut. All the same, though, we are grateful. We were sure that living in Southern California would condemn us to a fate each year of hauling out a silver aluminum tree from the garage. As retro chic as that may be, we still pine for the evergreen smell of a real Christmas tree. O tannenbaum! 
