Lucky

Nearly a week ago I attended my monthly "Bunco Club." It consists of a group of young, local women (all mothers, or soon-to-be mothers, aside from yours truly) who get together at each other's homes for an evening of dice rolling and snacks.

Last Thursday, it was held at my old house. The family that moved in has three young children, and they are expecting a fourth in the spring. I felt a bit apprehensive that afternoon; I wasn't sure if I could go. The last time I left that house, it was almost a year ago, and I was in tears. I didn't want to leave that house; I didn't want life to change.

But, change did occur, and I did end up attending the game night at the house. And I realized how lucky I was to be able to do so. Not many people are able to visit their old homes and see what the new owners have done with the place. The new owners of the farmhouse haven't changed much beyond a ceiling fan in the living room and a shower head in the bathroom, but the place felt different. It was warm, filled with soft couches and a snuffling dog, and lots of sweet (and very polite!) children. The house was full.

When my parents and I lived there, it was tomb-like quiet. If I wasn't watching some nasty television show filled with bleeps (something my dad never failed to comment upon), then very little noise filled the air. We each went about our own projects, and we probably could have gone a few days without seeing one another. It wasn't empty of love or life, it was just empty of humans.

The new family that has made my old house their new home is wonderful. My old playroom is now the father's music room, with his guitars hung across the wall. My old bedroom is now their son's room, with a bunk bed suspended in the air. The old hired man's room is now retrofitted with electricity for the youngest daughter. She likes to listen to conversation below in the kitchen through the floor vent. My parents' old bedroom, the one with the pretty pastel roses, is now the oldest daughter's room. And the parents reside in the spare bedroom - the room we never really had a use for.

I feel lucky because I got to see. I got to understand that the house is now warm and wild and full of life. I got some closure, and the ache isn't as deep now.

The Outcome

Last night we went to our local city council meeting, where it would be decided if the factory that wants to build in our backyard would receive approval or not.

We lost.

And we sort of won, too.

Let me explain.

We knew we would lose. For a variety of reasons -- not least that this is a small community, that this is a bad economy, that the factory owner pretty much owns the town -- we knew that the expansion of the factory would be approved. And so it was.

However, the concerns brought up at the advisory council meeting in late October, the precursor to the city council meeting, were heard. The factory VP will do his due diligence to mitigate the noise, and as they dig out the entire hillside (yeah, it's stupid), they will deposit the dirt behind the expansion, creating a berm. On top of this berm they will plant the landscaping. And they will pay for a privacy fence on our and my in-laws' property. This berm (and, of course, fence) will also end up discouraging factory workers from taking a shortcut across our property (something that happens now).

So, we lost, but it's the best possible loss. We shall see what the future holds.

A Whole New House

At long last, our home has landscaping.

It has morphed from a sad, empty (save for the numerous weeds), ugly space into something streamlined, and beautiful, and blessedly low-maintenance.

Observe, the horror of before:

And the gorgeous after, with plants (with room to grow) and neutral rock.

The little teensy spot on the other side of our garage might be my favorite...it's so cute!

From the road...a house that NO LONGER looks abandoned!

Having this project complete makes me very happy. Please e-mail if you would like the name of our landscaper. He did a wonderful job (in nearly freezing rain, no less), and we hope to expand the landscaping down the sides of our house in a year or so.

P.S. Husband and I can take credit for painting the porch the much more pleasant shade of brown. Let's hope it not only looks lovely, but also staves off the carpenter bees next summer!

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington

Pointing out the obvious: our economy is bad. I read articles that say it's getting better, things are turning around, it is all going to be ok. I don't yet believe those articles. I want industry to grow, people to obtain jobs with adequate compensation, for our world to not seem so gloomy.

So it is with this mindset that I find myself, conversely, fighting against a growing business.

We purchased our house in January 2009, next to my in-laws, who built their dream home and have lived it in for more than a decade. Our home was about to go into foreclosure, and we saved it. We renovated it. We improved its value immensely. We had planned to enjoy our starter nest, to start our family there, until we, too, were able to one day build our own dream home.

So our dismay was great when we learned that the beautiful, natural field behind our house might be sold to a nearby factory, for expansion purposes. They plan to put in a big, bright blue building, with an access road for heavy semitrailers and the new 24-hour staff. All this would be 75 feet from our backyard.

75 feet is a far smaller distance than I'd previously ever thought.

We are already awoken by crashes from this factory dumping their excess at 5 a.m., but they are currently far enough away, and work two ten-hour shifts. It was not much more annoying than the train, whose whistle blows each time it enters town. A mosquito buzzing, a minor inconvenience.

But now they want to put this factory and this road nearly in my backyard. And I am not happy about this. Next door, a playset for the children who live in government subsidized apartments would be just feet away from this access road. A church would become completely landlocked by the factory and access road.

I can't imagine what this will do to the property value of our and my in-laws' homes, and our peace of mind.

So off we went to the city council advisory meeting last week, to explain our position and our concerns. The factory vice president also presented his position, and the advisory committee truly gave him a harder time than I'd expected. They were in a difficult position - we've known many of the members for years, even been taught and mentored by some of them. They don't want to be against economic growth, but they wouldn't want this near their homes either. The meeting was relatively moot as the actual city council itself will come to a decision on November 1. We will be there, too, pleading for an alternative solution.

I don't want to be against economic growth. I don't want to be against the opportunity for job creation. But I don't want a factory in my backyard.

Our backyard extends to the nearest line of small trees in the picture. And then, a factory. We are distraught.

Motivation

The last few years have seen massive changes to the interior of our home. We still have a few things we want to change, but for the most part, we've completely revamped the house to our taste. It is completely different from when we bought it, and we love what we've accomplished.

The outside of our home, however, is a different story. It looks pretty much abandoned. Any changes that have taken place mostly center around removal: we ripped out ugly bushes in front of our porch; we took a chainsaw to several badly placed or dying trees; we've drug wheelbarrow full loads of rocks from our vegetable garden area (and by "we," in most instances, I mean "anyone in my family except for me").

We have had the best intentions of making the outside of our home as beautiful as the inside. But...the best laid plans...

Then, last weekend, my in-laws dropped by with an amazing gift. They gave us a set of chairs and table that they had found on sale. I had wanted to purchase something for our front porch for a long time, but it just never happened. And then, like magic, they showed up; I couldn't have chosen a better set; I absolutely love what they found. They are pretty much the best in-laws ever.

This has helped provide the motivation that I needed. I finally called a local landscaper. His estimate will arrive this week. Once we get a nice, rain-free weekend, Husband and I will finally stain the front porch a lovely dark brown (and this will also hopefully eradicate our carpenter bee problem). Then the landscaper can do his stuff, and we can get our electrician to install some new light fixtures.

I am so darn excited.

An Ending

I have trouble with firsts and lasts. Something in me always recognizes the beginning and ending, however inconsequential, and stirs my sentimentality.

...This is the first time I have stepped foot onto my college campus as a student...My sweater is irreversibly stained; I will never wear this sweater again...This is the first (and last) time I will ever eat green bean casserole...My parents are selling my childhood home; I will never again step foot in my old bedroom...

That last one is fresh. My parents sold the house today. It is cause for much celebration. They won't have to heat the house during the long winter months ahead. My dad won't have to drive there through snow and ice every few days to make sure no one has stripped the place of copper or vandalized the interior. They can finally close a chapter in their lives that climaxed with my dad's illness. They don't have to sleep in the first-floor living room anymore. My mom doesn't have to help my dad carefully pad down the rickety staircase to the basement shower ever again. They don't have to worry about something happening without neighbors near enough to run to for help.

And as much happiness as I feel for them, as much relief for their safety that the move brings to my mind, my heart cannot help but ache for the loss of our family home, filled with memories, both good and bad, but mostly good.

Husband and I went back to take pictures of the inside of the house one final time Saturday. I really didn't want him to go, so I could have an embarrassing, ugly cry alone, but he insisted, and I am glad that he did. My mom had taken the hidden key with her a few days prior, and he is the only person that could have entered the correct combination into the realtor's lock, gaining us entry. I took some final pictures inside, and we walked through one last time, without a camera. I savored the sound of the creaky stairs. While laying in my bed, I could always tell which parent was ascending, just by the rhythm of their footsteps. I breathed deeply the basement, which still smells vaguely of the pet beds where our long-gone dogs, Nellie and Sallie, spent the nights. I touched the textured, floral wallpaper in my parents' bedroom. And I stood in my room and remembered playing with Barbie dolls on the floor, dressing up for dances, talking on the phone with best friends, crying over heartbreaks, and singing myself to sleep.

We returned to the house for the last time yesterday evening so I could take my final exterior shots. I traipsed through the snow covered ground in inappropriate shoes trying to capture all that I feared my memory would lose. I was so glad that my dad's shed was unlocked so that I could walk in one last time and breath the scent that I have never experienced anywhere else, a combination of oil and dirt, the smell of a family that makes their living from the earth. As Husband and I drove away, in spite of my tears, I felt a warm, small sense of peace. A new family will grow to love the house, filling it up appropriately with three children. Both adults are teachers, just like my Grandma and Grandpa were. And even though it is an ending, it is a beginning, too, for that family, and for mine.

Drumroll, please

No, faithful readers, I am not dead, in spite of evidence such as two missing Friday Fashion posts! The horror!

As penance for my recent silence, I bring you tidings of great joy. This Thursday, Dad will be coming home. Three months, a few missing vertebrae, and the addition of a walker, and he is finally well enough and fit enough to be released. He will continue to receive physical therapy several times a week, but the therapist will conveniently come to his home. My heart overflows.


He's pretty happy about it, too.

In other news, my hearing more or less returned last night after its fortnight banishment due to a double ear infection. My sanity, however, is still nowhere to be found.

And (now for that drumroll): There is furniture. In our house. You can now go into our house and, like, sit. It's pretty incomprehensible. We spent the weekend moving heavy things (and by "we" I of course mean everyone except for me) and organizing, dusting, sweeping, wiping, and hanging. There's still a lot to do, but it is now at least marginally acceptable for the house guests that will be coming to spend the night this Friday. Nothing like the eleventh hour.

They are going to stay here, in the REDRUM!


That bed belonged to my paternal grandparents and has resided in my parents' spare bedroom for as long as I can remember. Now it will live in ours. And I promise our guests there will be sheets on the bed by the time they arrive. Hopefully.


In lieu of two missed Friday Fashion posts, I bring you Our Guest Bathroom Shower Curtain. Note my incredibly imaginative brown color palette. I'm a design genius, I'm well aware.


These are the shower hooks that came with the curtain! I didn't even have to pick them out myself! The store knew that level of skill was beyond my abilities, so they just packaged it all together! So adorable!


Look! A coffee table and lamp and sideboard table! And there's a couch in there now, too! PROGRESS, PEOPLE!


This might be my favorite. The dining table is now situated directly under that light to match the six chairs and china hutch. I was a little bit worried originally, because the furniture isn't exactly my taste, but it's a similar color to the kitchen cabinets (ohanddidimentionfree?) and is actually fitting beautifully.

I promise to post more than once a week, barring any additional infections, plagues, or pestilence. And maybe someday I'll get around to that promise of redesigning the site banner. Maybe.

I think Martha Stewart would approve

Last night Husband and I purchased countertops. This was monumental: our last major purchase for our renovations. Of course, we still need a bed and rugs and showercurtainsdrawerhardwareclosetdoors, but I'm going to choose to ignore that laundry list and focus on this small accomplishment.

Remember our cabinets?


They look a little different now because we've moved the appliances into the kitchen. But they're all still soundly attached to the walls, which is, you know, impressive. We're hoping our drywall woes will be fixed and the refrigerator will be installed by the end of this weekend. I will continue to not hold my breath. Still, we finally bit the bullet and bought this:The color is called Sonoma, and I've got to say that the swatch is much prettier in person. They are a gray/green/light brown with flecks of neutral color throughout. We finally decided to go with a Samsung Staron product, because it looks just like quartz but scratches can be resurfaced, there will be absolutely no seams, and the sink flows directly from the countertop, which struck me as especially cool (ah, a crumbless world shall be mine). Plus, our wallets started crying tears of blood and I just don't have the time for that kind of stain removal.This is the sink color, Ivory. I would never, ever pick this color on my own, but it really looked nice with the countertop color, I promise. And it isn't quite so flesh-toned as it appears. Really. Although now that I think about it, my Covergirl foundation is also called Ivory... Actually...could the color be made from easily sunburned Nordic people...?

There's also our garage. Last weekend we sold all the old cabinets and the 60-inch master bathroom vanity. The sale might cover the price of a single 18-inch vanity for our half bath (albeit custom-made. Uuugh, I know, I'm one of those people now). Shall I bend over now or would you like to do it for me?

Before. A dark, dangerous hovel filled with stinky, hairy, cat vomit cabinets.

After.

I don't know if Martha Stewart would go for the third world, industrial look, but at least we can walk in there now. Once we get the stove carted to its new owner, give me about five minutes before I take a sledgehammer to the garage cabinets. Really, you can't call them cabinets. You must instead call them Badly Painted, Badly Cut, and Badly Installed MDF Sheets That Don't Actually Open Or Function As Storage Receptacles. And they're headed for The Burn Pile, baby.

But by the grace of God...

...our kitchen cabinets are up. More or less.

By the end of tonight we will have had a contractor out three days this week to hang them with Father-in-Law and Husband. By tomorrow we will (again, God willing) have our dishwasher and microwave installed. Maybe the cabinet doors will even be placed on each frame. And perhaps our master closet will be tiled. Although I'm not getting my hopes up.

Here are the cabinets that hang on the (west?) wall, the wall with the new back door and new matching French patio doors. The refrigerator will be placed at the far end and the stove and microwave will go in the middle. Also, observe the beautiful, newly hung blind!


These cabinets hang on the opposite (east?) wall. There is nothing in the center because that is where our sink will be located, and I don't appreciate head trauma while washing dishes. Our dishwasher will go next to the sink cabinet (not installed at the time I took this photograph).


These two cabinets will be placed tonight and comprise our new breakfast bar. There used to be a wall where they sit, with about a one foot tall by three foot long opening in the middle (a mystery to us). We removed the wall, opening the kitchen into the dining room. A much nicer layout.


These aren't cabinets, but they are exciting. As you can see from the previous picture, they hang directly above the new breakfast bar. The middle one doesn't have a light bulb yet, so you can see the white ribbons of glass. I've been thinking more and more about ditching the granite and (sob) quartz countertops and going with a very clean, crisp, white Corian, to keep the room light in spite of all the dark wood (and hopefully save a few, precious dollars). But that's just me kicking around ideas in my head. Depending on the price difference, granite is unfortunately (or fortunately?) not that much more in many cases. However, it requires upkeep. And I do not care for upkeep. This is why I will continue to prove myself to be a bad homeowner.


This is our dining room light. I can't call it a chandelier (although Menards called it that) because my requirement for a chandelier is that it be sparkly. But this isn't bad. This doesn't have any crystals dripping from its arms, but it does have nice shades that have not yet been placed. Husband picked it out, and I think he did a bang-up job. Now if only we could rectify that acute light bult shortage...

I've got wood.

I haven't posted an update of our renovation (with pictures) in such a long time, so this weekend, while working at the house, I dug out my camera and got down to business. In two days, my father-in-law and a crew of three other men (myself and Husband excluded) put down over 1,100 feet of creamy chocolate bamboo hardwood, which promptly caused me to orgasm multiple times. It is not the same house that it was a week ago. Not even close. This is now a place that we could, like, actually live in.

The first step in the process was removing the ugly blue tile and pet-hair infested carpeting that ran throughout the downstairs. Then went the carpet pad and the lauan and approximately 800,000 staples that had to be removed by hand from much of the area with just a screwdriver and hammer. Then the remaining lauan that had been glued down had to be scraped and sanded off. Somehow, the prep work got done. When installing the hardwood, roofing paper was first laid and stapled down (trust me, we did not go overboard on the motherf*&%$#@ staples like the previous owners). Once that was securely in place, the slats of wood could be laid, popped into place, and nailed down with a rented gun. My gopher job during the process was to open boxes, remove slats, and lay them down so the real experts could pop them into place (win). And avoid splinters (fail). I often felt as though the whole operation was rather like delivering a baby. Workers would scurry in and out of rooms, back and forth constantly, between laying the flooring and cutting the pieces. When things really got going everyone was very focused and working at breakneck speed. It just felt like we were about to produce a miracle. Oh, hey, look:


And the result was what can only be called beautifigloriousness.


Here is the kitchen with the new flooring. In the very back you can just make out my very own little light yellow craft room. We installed the hardwood flooring throughout the entire downstairs except for the master bath and attached master closet, weency half bath that is situated down this hallway, and just under where the washer and dryer will be located (all of which we will tile). The wood doesn't really look as it appears in the pictures. It is extremely dusty, but if you look closely you can make out a tiny clean patch in the middle. I think some serious swiffering is on task for this evening.


You can tell how dusty the entire ordeal was by the spots on my camera lens. This is our living room with our green accent wall and delicious floor.


And remember in this post where I said we got new French doors to replace the sliding glass one? Yeah, well here they are! It turns out the original sliding glass doors weren't wrapped properly (I'm shocked. I'll take a large cup of cynicality. Heavy on the sarcasm.). Therefore, the frame and surrounding wood flooring was pretty much rotted out and all had to be replaced. At least now it's fresh and new and non-moldy and we won't fall through the floor to our death.


And that carpeting that was installed...forever ago? Here you go! Mmmm...mushroom!


This is me trying to be clever. I'm in Husband's office (green) looking through the doorway past the stairwell (tan) into the guest bedroom (red). So you can see how well the carpeting works with all of the colors that we had already painted. *Pats self on the back*


So there you have it. La Maison Pourpre. We are still praying to the renovation gods to move in within a month or two, but we will see how the tile, cabinet, and appliance installation goes. Other than that, it's all downhill from here! We hope you will come visit us soon!

Knock and the door shall be opened unto you...

Last night Husband and I broke down and purchased a set of french doors to replace the sliding glass door leading from our kitchen/dining room onto the back deck. The price tag stung a bit because it was an unexpected expense (although the 10% off coupon did help. Seriously, if you need a coupon to the big box home improvement store that begins with "L" and rhymes with "toes," just pick up (i.e., steal) a few "change of address" packets from your local post office.) The doors are lovely and have the blinds built in between the two panes of glass to match our new back door. They are made out of steel, which was an important requirement. We discovered that the old sliding glass door had let in enough moisture to rot the wood around the entrance. Since we knew we would have to replace this anyway, why not just blow several hundred more on a prettier door that actually opens smoothly and doesn't include a screen that looks as though it has been attacked by the members of the Broadway musical Cats? Pictures of the doors and the carpet that was installed over a week ago are still pending because I'm both lazy and forgetful.

Additionally, last night we purchased some roofing paper to lay on top of the plywood as a moisture barrier before our beautiful bamboo hardwood goes down this weekend (take note, future homeowners). We also bought some rope, whose intended purpose was to tie down the doors on the way home but that I think I will instead use to hang myself once I see our final renovation total.

However, last Saturday we did make a small pittance of our investment back when I participated in the town-wide yard sale by dragging onto my driveway all of our "inheritance," that is, crappy possessions left in the house by the previous owners. Anyone want a broken teapot? A bodily fluid/animal hair encrusted vanity? A birdbath that probably houses the avian flu? Well, too bad, because people trashier than me already bought all of that junk. We got rid of almost everything that had collected in our basement for the past four months, which thrilled me beyond belief because purging is one of my favorite things to do (not as in, like, bulimia). What was even better is that I had no emotional ties to the detritus, so I was more than happy to accept customers' haggling. The two boxes left over will probably be donated to Goodwill or the Habitat for Humanity retail shop. Good riddance.

And so we march on through renovation hell. As many, many people have repeated to me, at least we aren't forced to live in the middle of it. If we had, we would probably have black lung from the drywall dust and uncovered mold and our divorce would be pending. Luckily, that is not the case. Yet.

Out with the old...

...and in with the new.


These daffodils are blooming right outside my office. They made me smile this morning. Spring has sprung, and like the renewal of the season, our house is getting a renewal of its very own. We seemed to get a lot done this weekend, including installing two new ceiling fans, one for our master bedroom and the other for the living room. I'm not in love with ceiling fans, but I'm naming the living room ceiling fan "Compromise" and the bedroom ceiling fan "Acceptance." At least they are kind of pretty in their modernity. They each come with a battery-powered remote which will either get even cooler as time goes on, or even more annoying when the remote gets lost in the couch cushions and bedclothes.


We also installed the new front door, which is linear and sparkly, two of my favorite qualities in inanimate objects.


A giant hole in the half bath behind the medicine cabinet was also discovered. The previous owners pulled out all of the easy route stops. Instead of finding a stud with ohidontknow a stud finder, they instead punched a hole in the wall and installed a slat of wood on which they mounted the medicine cabinet. And then never patched the hole. Klassy with a kapital K.


Meanwhile, paint is continuing to cover every square inch of the Old Ugly. Here's our new chocolate upstairs bathroom. Soon, we will be installing a mottled brown floor to match and sharp, white vanity.


And here's our REDRUM guest bedroom. Want to come have a sleepover? I promise s'mores and pillow fights.


The paint is even finally seeping down our stairwell. A nice, calm "Pebble Beige" that will continue throughout the living room and possibly serve as the major neutral for the kitchen and downstairs hallway. I declined mounting the scaffold to paint, however. I'm just not that brave.


And, finally, one of the most exciting changes is the eradication of the kitchen wall. If you remember the strange six-inch wide opening for dinner plates? stooped conversation? utter decorative laziness? you will understand why this wall had to go. This is where we are going to put a breakfast bar and some arty hanging lights. OH! And we also purchased our kitchen appliances this weekend. LG. Slick. After almost two years without a kitchen of our own, at least this one will be well worth the wait. This is going to be kick-ass.

My hatred runs deep...

We have finally made one of the most important choices in our entire life.

Marriage, you ask? Nah, been there, done that.

The purchase of a house, possibly? Dude, see above.

Children, perhaps? Don't count on it, buddy.

No, the conclusion we have reached is the all-important choice of Living Room Wall Color. Introducing: Holly Glen, Pebble Beige, and Ultra White.


WHAT? What do you mean they're boring? Believe me, in person, away from the grossly inadequate work of a cheap scanner, they are beautiful. The green is not so terrifyingly forest-like and will adorn a single accent wall, highlighting the love of our life, the television. The beige is soft and creamy and will be painted on the remaining three walls and continue up the stairs, creating an airy feel. And the white is crisp and stunning, to be placed on all of the trim in the house for clean, beautiful lines. Okay, so maybe they're not hot pink and neon blue, but I think they will work out quite nicely, thankyouverymuch. Either way, these colors will facilitate the most important part of our entire renovation: the eradication of our couch pillows.


I really, really, REALLY hate these pillows. They came with the couch. Usually, I love red. These pillows, however, disgust me. I don't know why. Probably some deep seated issues that will require years of therapy. Or, maybe the following fabrics will erase these pillows from my psyche. I'm planning to con my mother into slip covering the ugly existing pillows in BEAUTY. Observe:


Twill water lotus in spinach. The bright blue might not go so well, but I love the bold, contemporary pattern. Also, I love the word "lotus." Is that reason enough to purchase a fabric?


Pegasus. I don't know what a Greek winged horse has to do with fabric, but look at the pretty! These make me think of olives. While I don't personally like to eat olives, anything that reminds me of food is a good thing. Isn't the green striking?


Frisbee mink. This is a similar pattern to the olives above, but is a little more wonky and fun. Possibly my least favorite of the batch, but still light years better than the current Ugly.


Twill wood fern in moss. There's something soothing and organic about this fabric. I could nap on this, no problem.


And finally, Jacquard Damask. It's no secret that damask may be my one true love. I think the black and cream color in this fabric would be very graphic against the tan and green wall and couch colors. Good enough to eat.

A Valentine's Day to remember...

...and not necessarily for the better. After giving poor Husband the flu Friday (ah, the gifts of marriage), he awoke early Saturday morning and asked me to take him to the hospital because he was having terrible acid reflux heartburn. We went in at 4 a.m. and, luckily, got out at about 5:30. He got a nice pain shot and some green numbing goop to swallow. He's been unconscious for most of Valentine's Day (we hadn't planned on officially celebrating the day with gifts or anything, so it worked out, I suppose). I spent the day peeling more wallpaper border at the house. The ducks did not go gentle into that good night:


You can almost hear their screams. Or terrified quacks. I felt like I accomplished a lot in several hours worth of work. View the spoils of my victory:


A truly beautiful sight. I have one hundred and ten billiondy percent decided I hate wallpaper. Perhaps time will soften my animosity, but I don't know. I'm going to be having nightmares about this house's wallpaper border for a long, long time.


Doesn't the lack of ugly border make the room feel so much bigger? Now just imagine the room with paint...and flooring...and a new light...and...