I’m in the midst of planning a curb appeal intervention on our new house. Oddly enough, it had a fair amount of curb appeal before we started messing with it.
We’ve pimped the new crib up a bit with some copper gutters - to go with a much needed new roof. Next up: paint and landscaping. I’ve terrorized the neighborhood with some rather ‘out there’ paint samples (noted above). They’ll undoubtedly sleep better when they see the color that made the cut. The lawn suffered from an inoperable sprinkler system (recently repaired) and a lot of trampling by various trade peeps, but not to worry, it needed to be regraded to address the water issues.
Insert smiley face and a ‘isn’t reno fun?!’ here. ha.
I’d like to create less lawn, more easy maintenance beds. Maybe plant a sugar maple in the front right corner… which will probably provide shade from the afternoon sun beating in the front window. In about 20 years. We’re going to reuse everything that’s there, with the exception of the overgrown yews that flank the front door and the little stragglers by the walk.
Yews, guys, gotta go.
Stay tuned.
I don’t think so.
In one of those odd, Twilight Zone meets ‘Be Careful What You Wish For’ moments, the very same week that I lost my heart to the little house, we received a letter of inquiry from a local Realtor.
Yeah, yeah, form letters. Everybody gets ‘em. But this one had our names on it. Spelled correctly even.
In the letter, the Realtor explained that she’d been working with a couple relocating from out of town. Touring around the neighborhood, our house had appealed to them on some level. If we were interested in selling in the near future - would we call her?
Hel-lo Kismet.
Fate. Serendipity. Insert preferred cosmic force here.
Even my beloved husband was intrigued - the letter coming, quite literally, on the heels of the realization that I really meant what I said about downsizing.
Adventure ensued.
In the few weeks between that day and this, first the Realtor toured our house and then - ah, timing - a week later… at the end of a four-day family celebration - a mere hour or two after the last guests were dropped at the airport, she brought the prospective buyers through.
That experience brought us to the conclusion that whether these people were seriously interested or not, all signs pointed to ‘Sell’. I gave us a Resale Ready (TM) consultation and we got serious.
But it turns out that even the detritus of one of our family parties couldn’t scare the prospective buyers away.
After a second tour, that nice young couple made us an offer. It was accompanied by a lovely letter which made note of the unusual way in which we had arrived at this point. It was quite moving. By the time I reached the closing, I was torn. Until that moment, it hadn’t occurred to me how important it would be to have the new owners feel that this place was home.
Closely followed by the thought that we’d be crazy to leave it.
And yet the siren song of fewer square feet to clean calls, and leave it we shall.
Where we’ll go is another story.
I’ve fallen head over heels for a little house. Heavy emphasis on the word little. It’s so small that there’s not even much room for quirky charm. But I can still see it. Even in the bathroom…
Really, I can.
I think my beloved (husband, not house) was feeling a little of the love too, when he toured the place with me. “Yeah, I get it,” he said, “but it’s too small. And it’s a boat load of work.”
No argument. It has the square footage of a shoe box and lacked about, oh… 95% of the things we’ve talked about when venturing into ‘down-sizing’ discussions. But I’m talking totally smitten here. What ifs and maybes swam in my head and I was at the computer day and night until I had the place totally renovated - green, budget friendly and to die for - with us totally living there.
Alas, it’s an unrequited love. When I called the listing agent again, she may as well have ripped the beating heart right out of my chest. Before I could pledge my troth, not to mention all of our worldly goods, someone else had swept in and snatched up the object of my affection.
This is not to say I don’t feel a deep and abiding love for the home in which we live. It’s our fourth home. In a break from the ‘whither thou goest’ philosophy, when we moved here I told my husband that if he wanted to move again… well, the alimony was going to be a bitch. So, for almost twenty years our house has been the epitome of what I longed for growing up, a real family home.
Filled with memories and horse hair plaster, we’ve celebrated highs and weathered lows in this house, raised four kids, survived a major renovation. Until my recent walk on the wild side, I didn’t think I would ever willingly leave it. But my brief affaire de coeur with the tiny house has shown me that, hmm… I guess I didn’t really mean that part about the alimony.
As long as we’re in it together, I could not only live some place else, I could be jazzed about it. I guess it’s true that a house is a building, but home is where your heart is.
lightning, love letters and score keeping.
oddly enough, lightning struck not once, but several times in the days before Christmas.
Finding a few (insert discreet throat clearing here) minutes amid the hustle and bustle, I was able to piece together pillows for some of my favorite opponents. It had been awhile (years) since my last sewing project, so I took it in stages and crossed my fingers a lot.
These pillows were a little bit of labor and a whole lot of love and I just wanted to keep on sewing.
For my sister, for her sofa or window seat where she’ll see them often and think of me fondly. Even if I use all of my letters. S I T, 3 points.
For my older daughter, because how do medical students spell relief? N A P, 5 points.
For my oldest son, a laid back guy and the king of two letter words: E H, 5 points.
And for my high energy daughter-in-law, Q I, 11 points. High score.
The mother-in-law thing is just a bonus.
spoiler alert: if you’re related to me, there’s a chance that an item noted below will be under your Christmas tree. There’s also a chance you’ll be struck by lightning. Go ahead, play the odds.
All I really want for Christmas is quality time with family members. And of course, the whole peace on earth, good will toward men thing. Except as it pertains to Scrabble with the aforementioned family members.
As I was reviewing ideas for my list (still a work in progress), I got to thinking about what I’d want if I didn’t already have it.
Definitely my Keurig.
I love my Keurig. Turns out, a lot of other people do, too. After they try mine, they go home and buy their own. So much for that idea.
Then I saw these pillows at my friend Anne’s house.
Anne is an awesome designer (www.annefurey.com - coming to an internet near you in January, 2011) and her home was part of a Holiday House Tour last week. She let me take the picture, but she wouldn’t let me take the pillows.
They’re perfect for a number of people in my family. You know, to help soften the blow when they get trounced at a game or two.
Anne bought her vowels at etsy.com, but I think I can free up some time, maybe between 3 and 7 am next Thursday, so I’ve picked up some supplies.
I’ll let you know the score.
I’ve heard it said, probably because I talk to myself, that one person’s manifesto is somebody else’s grocery list.
For those unable to read the exercise induced manifesto, the objectives behind the scribbles were something like this:
Shopping Christmas List - Budget- maraschino cherries
- cranberry salsa
- the Burgomaster
That’s what you thought, right?
Groceries aside, let’s not quibble about the relative merits of any particular objective. Let’s just categorize, in corresponding order, and move on.
- Things I am avoiding
- Things I want to follow up on
- Things I crave
- Things I remember from Christmases past
Having covered the craving issue, cranberry availability being a matter of some urgency, my natural inclination is to go straight to the maraschino cherries. Toss in some alcohol and I am so there. I tried my hand at making them a few months ago (curse you, Mike Troiano, who put the idea in my head) and I’ve had a request or two (really) about the results of my experimentation. We’ll save that for Happy Hour.
The Burgomaster, then? No, not a Christmas horror flick, but a guy with a generous heart in a special Christmas story from childhood. Part of the simplification process, thinking about how our attitudes and traditions are formed.
But waxing nostalgic, as well as drinking responsibly, will have to wait until we deal with the avoidance issue. We’ve held the annual budget summit and share a commitment to simplify. After getting a handle on the numbers, the next step is to really plan. Make a serious List. Not one in my head, which is often open to interpretation and all too easily misplaced. Details about what for whom, with bold fonts, underlining and asterisks, as necessary. No stuff for stuff’s sake. A strict No Off List Purchases policy.
So far, the No Off List policy has been the most help keeping me on budget.
That might change when I actually make The List.
Filed under the goose is getting fat i'll stop procrastinating tomorrow
The Inner Minimalist has taken charge of the magnetic chalk board wall. One deceptively simple, flat message magnet is the key to a complex system for doing the dishes. Don’t ask.
The existing white outlet was replaced with an integrated, black LED night light/outlet combo.
New paint colors: all Benjamin Moore Aura, matte finish:, AF-425 anjou pear, AF-370 citrine and AF-290 caliente; chalk board wall, Rustoleum Chalk Board paint, black (also available in green).
okay then, from the decorating notebook. this is me Being informative…
the project began, as so many do, with me waving my beloved husband off on a business trip. By the time his car had cleared the driveway, I was up on a ladder stripping wallpaper.
The clandestine paint job had been planned for weeks, but a client’s question about magnetic primer had added a new level of intrigue. Deciding not to rehang a worn magnetic chalkboard, I dedicated the wall on which it had hung to the pursuit of knowledge: Magnetic Primer, Theory and Practice.
Some preliminary research offered up blog posts and reviews that ranged from ‘fabulous’ to ‘just shy of a lawsuit’. I suspect the reviews correlated to whether or not the user had read, understood and hello! - followed the application instructions.
There was also some mention about blocking wi-fi signals.
Uh oh.
When not traveling on business, the beloved husband works out of the house. Blocking the wi-fi signal? Not a plus in the marital harmony column. While the wifi was still wifi-ing, I dashed off a quick email…
To: My Beloved Husband
Subject: Magnetic Paint
Good morning, dear.
Nothing to be nervous about… just a little technical question…
Hypothetically speaking, if a person were to paint a wall with magnetic paint… do you think that would affect the wifi signal in their home?
When I say ‘wall’, I mean an expanse of say… 25 or 30 square feet.
And when I say ‘person’, think… kindly ol’ grandmama.
And when I say ‘hypothetically’, well… then you know you’re in trouble.
Have a nice day, dear.
So much for the element of surprise. But after a quick email exchange and a reassuring phone call, I picked up quarts of Rustoleum Magnetic Primer (Home Depot, $20.99) and black Chalk Board paint ($9.99). Let the games begin.
If you’re thinking of using magnetic primer, do read the technical info and instructions. Following them would also be a plus. Stir, stir and then stir some more, before and during application. Use a foam roller for smoothest application, wear gloves and open a window - it’s a latex product, but has a strong solvent odor. Understand that you won’t be hanging anybody’s thesis on the wall. Flat magnets work best and they hold one or two pages well. Awesome for art work and photos.
Rustoleum recommends one quart to do three coats over 16 square feet. Our lab technician (me) put five thin coats over approximately 28 square feet. They also recommend two coats of finish paint. I opted for black Chalk Board paint, but any latex paint will work. I applied two very thin coats and went back for a third coat to achieve a more uniform finish, with no adverse effect on the attraction. The magnets’ or mine.
If you use Chalk Board paint, Rustoleum recommends letting it cure for three full days before conditioning and use. ‘Conditioning’ is just coating the surface with chalk, then erasing. This helps to lessen the ghosting effect left after writing on and erasing the surface. It takes some time, not to mention a LOT of chalk to condition 28 square feet. Conditioning and dry erasing produces a softer, vintage-look finish. If you prefer a crisp black finish, opt for wiping with a damp, lint free cloth.
I am totally stuck on this wall. Mostly because it looks so good, but also because I calibrated my expectations based on research, and it’s doing a fine job of living up to them.
And, I’m still married.
Filed under blackboard jungle when the cat's away she really is a decorator
