En Fuego

Since the day we moved into our home (read: money pit), we've known we had to redo the hearth, with its broken ceramic tiles that crumbled more each year. Simple fix, yes? With the aid of a chisel, roto hammer and a jigsaw, Paul extracted (at ear splitting levels) the tile and mortar from the hearth extension. Seriously, having a handy husband rocks.

We took the kids down to the brick hatchery to pick out our stock and days later welcomed Hugo and Ricardo, who despite my shabby Spanish, managed to do a great install.

"Dos." That's how many hours we were instructed to stay OFF the bricks while the cement dried. I'd say Harry and Charlotte waited a whopping dos minutos before poking, picking and prodding the masonry. At one point I looked around the corner at my naughty children and found them jumping up and down on the brick, right before Harry chucked a white sofa cushion into the unscreened firebox. Can you say "timeout?"

Pictured atop, is the NEW hearth. And before you ask me why we didn't put in marble or granite, I'll tell you, we wanted it to look "period" and brick was the thing.