Archive for Building a House
OTT: Kitchen Upgrades and Acts of Love
Posted by: | CommentsAs most of you know by now, Husband and I are on a quest to make our townhouse – once considered our “temporary abode” but which has evolved into just our “long-time abode” thanks to Wall Street’s recent shenanigans– liveable. Well, the saga continues.
We’ve installed a new patio with new outdoor furniture, completed major reorganization of our garage, repainted just about everything, and invested in our own professional carpet steam cleaner. But, this summer? Well, we’ve embarked on a kitchen renovation.
The experts say that three things test a marriage the most – finances, sex and home renovation.
They were right.
But, it was worth it.
We went from this:
To this:
In just under two weeks. And, this is because Husband loves me more than he hates home renovation.
I am a huge proponent of the theories espoused by the book, The Five Languages of Love by Gary Chapman. In this book, you will discover your “love language” – those things your partner does that you make you feel loved. You also will be given insight into your partner’s love language (if you are reading it right). As the author points out, frequently, your love language and your spouse’s are often very different. And, this is where the trouble begins. But, if you know what your partner’s love language is, all can be better.
Thanks to this book, I now know that when I go flying with Husband in his tuna fish can Cessna 152 it speaks love to him. In fact, it is equal to him giving me diamonds. And, he now knows that if he would only whisper sweet nothings in my ear while kissing my neck, he basically could own me (or, for that matter, anyone else who does could, too). Simply put, our love languages are dead opposite. But, other than wishing he (or I) would express themselves differently, just knowing the other person’s love language can be helpful, too.
So, note to all singles everywhere: “buyer beware” when ordering a spouse. Make sure they understand your love language, and understand it early. Then, you can do what I did. For three days. Standing in the middle of a completely torn apart kitchen with no water. You get to see this is how Husband says “I love you.”
Husband should have been packing for a 10 day camping trip to Wisconsin to go to one of his favorite places in the world – the EAA’s Air Venture show (10,000 airplanes, more than 500,000 aviation enthusiasts). Rather, he spent two weeks – literally up to the day he left – making sure I had this:
Instead of this:
Whoever inherits this townhouse will not only get a castle, but maybe, just maybe, they will see the acts of love behind the granite.
OTT: Stuff, Stuff, and More Stuff
Posted by: | CommentsHusband recently went to San Francisco for a three-day conference on angel investing. Yes, he found this exciting. I was excited, too. But, for completely different reasons. Besides having the bed and the remote control all to myself for several days, it also meant I had a big chunk of time to take another giant step in Operation Townhouse Transformation (OTT).
It took me four years of marriage, but I finally got the hang of this change thing. If you want something different, you shouldn’t always wait for the other person to agree. You should just do it.
For the first three years I pretty much waited for agreement. As a long-time single person, I was used to doing things on my own time. But, when I got married, I didn’t think I got to anymore. No wonder the frustration mounted. All that waiting for agreement that was never going to happen.
But, finally, last year sometime I had the Big Ephipany. What was I waiting for? Don’t like something? Go for it.
So, we I began OTT. We I started with painting. (Goodbye red kitchen.) Then, a new terrace and new furniture.
Last week? A professional organizer. A new closet system was installed. And, then while Husband was talking about money in San Francisco last week, I was spending it. On more organization in the garage.
If you get married for the first time after age 40, expect a LOT of stuff to enter your life. All at once. In truckloads. Hence, our garage overflowing.
Before the grand reorganization.
After.
Our professional organizer said she knew it wouldn’t take too long to tackle this space after meeting me. (I secretly believe she thought this because Husband was going out of town.)
It only took two days, two full-car trips to Goodwill, 14 large garbage bags full of trash, two full-car trips to the recycling center, and a strong case of “Just Having Enough!” to make it work. I made decisions with lightening speed. Enough of the stuff.
Husband, had he been here, however, would have probably wanted to keep those strange pieces of wood that were stacked under the tool bench. After all, they were good pieces of wood! And, the old kitchen fluorescent light that no one in their right mind would put back up. Oh, and what about those boxes of old presentations about companies that even doesn’t exist anymore? And, let us not forget the sacred jars of screw, nails and unidentifiable bits of metal?
Some of it remained. But, some of it? Well, let’s just say it’s someone else’s turn to enjoy all that chaos.
We’re remodeling the kitchen next. I wonder when Husband is going out of town again…
Are You Ready to Bloom?
Posted by: | CommentsOur house budget just got larger. And, for once, it’s not my fault. It’s for landscaping. Lots and lots of landscaping, especially trees.
Today I went out to The Land to see what we had. In the way of trees, that is. I expected our 13 acres to be bursting with blooms, fuchsia-colored red buds, white and pink dogwoods, and maybe a magnolia or two just starting to bud.
After all, our neighborhood in suburbia land is going nuts. Thanks to ridiculously warmer (read: 90 degrees) weather the last week or so, even the azaleas are making an early showing by budding already. The daffodils have come and gone and I keep telling the tulips to “go back, go back! It’s not time yet!” They aren’t listening.
So, given the weather guy is threatening rain this afternoon, I decided to hot foot it out to The Land to see what the heck was going on out there before all the buds were whisked away by a storm.
I was encouraged by the drive out there. Flowering trees before every house waved friendly in the breeze along the way. Lots and lots of redbuds and pink dogwoods. Such teases.
I finally got to our entranceway. Cresting the hill of our 500 yard driveway, a bunny scampered across my path (always a good sign in my book). I made the big curve and was hit with it. Green, that is. Lots and lots of green. Not a pastel in sight.
Not to be bested by all this green, I decided to walk the fence line. There had to be some color out there somewhere.
I did find a few lone redbuds hidden in the trees – oh, about 5 of them.
And, special props go out to the lone wild violet (Husband says, weed) that is valiantly attempting to beautify the place.
And, then it hit me. Perhaps our land is a late bloomer, too?
Nah.
We just need more landscaping budget. See tomorrow’s post for how we might just get those trees some company.
OTT Update: The New Terrace
Posted by: | CommentsGreetings! Just stopping in to let you know how OTT (Operation Townhouse Transformation) is going. It’s moving along!
Three days ago I awoke to four guys yucking it up in my backyard. After I got over my initial heart attack and vision of Husband coming home from work to find his wife (not like he left her) in the bath tub (I watch too many bad made-for-TV movies), I realized it was the concrete guys! (Note to contractors: A little notice is helpful, yes?) They were here to start the “backyard transformation.” We are replacing the builder’s idea of terrace (read: concrete slab, 8 feet by 14 feet).
I managed to throw on clothes just before they started up the jackhammer. It took them only three hours to jack up the old icky slab. Then, of course, they left. For two days.
But, no matter. Yesterday, they returned to haul away all the concrete junk, mark off the new terrace, pull up the sod and put down some gravel and rebarb. On Monday, they pour the new “slab” and color and stamp it. Voila! Instant flagstone terrace lookalike.
Of course, now we need new patio furniture. And, flower beds. And, matching ceramic pots for the plants. And, cute lights. And, I’m sure I’ll come up with more.
Husband is sighing. I wonder why?
Operation Townhouse Transformation
Posted by: | CommentsI. Have. Had. Enough. Of our townhouse, that is.
We have lived in a small townhouse for almost five years now. The plan was to vacate said townhouse within two years and move into our dream home that we custom built. Visions of sweeping stone terraces cradling a French Provincial complete with French doors and sweeping arches danced in our heads. We found the land. We found the house style we wanted. Our businesses (read: funding) were humming along and then, bam. The stock market does its thing.
Thank you, stock market, for crashing right when we were ready to break ground on our 13 acres. Now we are stuck in this tiny little place for I-don’t-know-how-many-more years.
However, never to be deterred too long, I cooked up a plan. I learned, long ago as a single person, that if you want something you just have to make it happen. And, I had to make our current home livable.
Then I remembered I was married. Husband was going to have to buy into Operation Townhouse Transformation (OTT). Shoot. I could have had this place whipped into shape in two weeks. But, I knew that I couldn’t just spring construction workers on him without advance warning. (Could I?)
At first, Husband balked at spending money on fixing up a place that we were ready to dump head out of at the first sign of economic recovery. After all, does a 1,500 square foot townhouse need a 400 square foot terrace and quartz countertops? And, is acquiring Stickly furniture going over the top? And, what about those stainless steel appliances. Too much?
But, I managed to convince him with three words: increasing resale value. (Amazing how that phrase has worked.)
From hiring closet organizers to putting in a stone terrace, from painting to overhauling the kitchen, from new furniture to new art work, the great transformation has begun. (He asked me not to go toooo overboard. But, five years ago he never defined “temporary living” so I’m not asking him to define “overboard,” either.)
It is probably true our place doesn’t deserve what we’re doing to it.
However, yesterday a friend told me at lunch, well, the town house may not be worth it, but you are.
Yes, thank you.
I may be new to this marriage thing, but I have learned that there is compromise and then there is compromise. Don’t let it be you who always concedes – sometimes let it be the real estate.
I told you so….
Posted by: | CommentsYa know when you get married later in life, you just hope that maturity has set in to the point that you need never to say (or hear) “I told you so” from your beloved. Oh, the fantasies we weave.
But, the dreaded “I told you so’s” don’t ever really leave. They just change form.
For instance, we recently did some re-painting of our townhouse. We originally had a very high-end interior designer do our paint scheme. She’s good. But, the paint color choices didn’t really turn out for our 1,500 square foot home (compared to the 10,000 square foot home she was used to).
Let’s take the kitchen, for instance. We had it painted red. It was supposed to be like you were standing inside a glass of merlot. Rather, it was like being inside a 1970s Hardees. We had it re-painted white and yellow a few weeks ago.
And, the hallway (in the northern most, darkest part of the townhouse with just a teeny-tiny window) was painted blue. Lovely color. Just dark as night. So, now it’s yellow, too.
My office was originally painted a lovely feminine lavender. I loved it for about six months. Then it made me feel like I was inside a Dunkin’ Doughnuts. Now it is a creamy ivory. (Can you spot a trend?)
When the painters finally finished, I called my husband at work to 1) announce we would be eating out for the next two nights while the kitchen dried, and 2) announce my good judgment for having it all painted, raising the re-sale value.
“Well, you can remember my comment when we first painted…” said Husband. Or, I told you so…
Small Space, Bigger Marriage?
Posted by: | CommentsSo, in my quest for making our townhouse bearable small house decorating tips, I came across a terrific blog resource – the Jewel Box Home.
This online site provides a guide to decorating, entertaining and joyful living in a smaller home. I’m going to be spending a lot of time here. I can already tell.
And, upon my first visit, Lo! and Behold!, a blog post asking if a smaller house makes for a happier marriage? Ummm, well, I dunno…
The Jewel Box Home author, Genevieve, makes very compelling arguments for how a smaller space would force togetherness and compromise. I will not argue with her points. Because she’s right. There’s no getting away from me him in our small place. He’s just going to have to deal.
But, that means I have to deal, too. And, therein lies another side of the coin.
Anyone who knows me (or hangs around this blog long enough), knows that I wish to run screaming from vacate our 1,500 square foot townhouse. Husband swore we would be here temporarily. (Note to self: Next time ask his definition of “temporary.”) Upon moving day, I was told we would build and move into our dream house, tout de suite.
(For the record, our dream house is not a McMansion, either. It’s a respectable 3,500 square foot home that will include two offices – we run our own businesses –, a home gym and guest quarters. So, that’s not so big.)
Alas, five years later and two stepsons’ college tuitions later, we’re still here, where he trips over my shoes in the hall and I get to view growing stacks of paper, magazines and newspapers on our kitchen table.
Before we moved in together I had a 2,500 square foot home to myself. I do believe it was the first time I did not have to “switch out” my winter and summer clothes. There was a guest bedroom and office where all my overflow stuff could, well, overflow. And, I could stretch out onto the couch at any time I wanted. No one was going to ask me to “scoot over.”
I wasn’t always so space piggy, though.
My favorite place I ever lived was a 565 square foot, one bedroom condo in Arlington, Virginia. In the dead of winter, I could see the Washington monument from my parking lot. In the spring I was greeted with flowering magnolia and pink dogwood trees at my front door. It had a fireplace. And, cathedral ceilings. Even a one-person washer/dryer unit in the one-of-two closets. I was in heaven. I had no room to add anything, once I moved in. But, I loved it anyway.
But, I have come to realize that what made this small place so grand included a few things missing from our current small place. For one, silence.
As I write, I can hear the television news from downstairs. This is not an unusual day, either. I regularly hear the news. Blaring in every. single. corner of the place. So, until they come up with uber soundproofing that can muffle CNBC, I’m going to continue to dream of more space.
When The Furniture Met For The First Time
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Getting married over age 40 poses some very interesting dilemmas. Some of them are comical, and some of them are just plain weird. For instance, a very interesting little thing happened when Husband and I moved in together. The day the movers came to get my stuff (out of my 2,500 square foot house in which I had been living by myself), I realized that Husband actually had stuff, too. And, my stuff would be touching his stuff. Until that day, I do believe it never dawned on me that any of his stuff would be coming with him. Weird, huh?
Anyway, the dilemma really resides with this little fact: being over 40 means ya know what you like. And, ya know what you don’t like. That goes especially for interior design. And, unfortunately, Husband and I are on opposites sides of the spectrum when it comes to decorating and architecture. (I, of course, knew this when I met him, but see stuff reference above.)
The first time our furniture met, it was not pretty. I mean not pretty as in the “before” pictures of a home make-over. Picture France/Italy (charming cottage, not Versailles) crossed with Jamestown (the starving, middle of winter Jamestown where they boiled their belts for food.) Guess who was France/Italy?
I am sure Husband would move right into Monticello if I’d let him. (Given it’s 10 miles away this is actually a possibility. Until the police show up.) I, on the other hand, would probably never leave George Clooney’s Lake Como home if I was ever invited. He needn’t even be there. (No, really.) I’d just be there for the architecture.
Anyway, given my rich delusional fantasy life, I have gone ahead and pretended I’m in Italy by collecting little paintings and furniture that would fit in nicely with George’s life. (A grown woman is always prepared for the unexpected invitation.) Husband, in the meantime, went ahead and did his own throw it together interior decorating thing.
But, being the more mature bride, I have come up with a solution. We’re starting over. Which means I get to go s-h-o-p-p-i-n-g. (You can see my smiling, can’t you?) Husband has been alerted, though not necessarily invited. I promised not to bring home George Clooney anything modern or too Louis the XIV. He has promised not to hate everything. See? Compromise!
House-Building is Expensive. Yes, and?
Posted by: | CommentsHusband/Boy has burst my bubble.
Here’s the story: Once upon a time there was a boy. And, there was a girl. Boy meets girl. Boy seduces girl into promises of spectacular life – including a house.
But, Boy – after getting Girl’s hopes up by designing dream house in one weekend — presents excel spreadsheet of house costs. (Boy LOVES spreadsheets, unbeknownst to Girl upon meeting.)
Girl bursts into tears, realizing she may never afford a manicure again, let alone those Christian Louboutin shoes she just about bought on zappos.com.
Boy looks confused. To Boy, data is data. Girl is unimpressed in Boy’s attempt to be realistic. Never knowing what to do during crying moments, Boy retreats to office cave to work more on the spreadsheet.
Girl attempts to empower Boy to create financial miracle. Boy continues to look confused.
Excel spreadsheet wins. In one click of a mouse, House goes from Taj Mahal to Little House on the Prairie. Otherwise, Boy says Girl would literally be The Little Old Lady Who Lived in A Shoe. At least it would be a Christian Louboutin. (But, I’m not wearing any prairie dresses.)
We’re Building a House. No, Really.
Posted by: | CommentsHusband and I are going to build a house. If you know me, you’ve heard this one about 892 times. It’s because we have been “building a house” for more than 5 years now. Why is it taking so long? Well, if you are an LBB, you understand that Husband comes with ideas of his own.
All married couples will tell you that compromise is the soul of a happy marriage. But, what if your tastes are so well-defined that letting go just feels like, well, giving up a dream?
Let’s recap the house-building example.
It took us the first 3 years to find a piece of land we could agree on. Read: agree on the distance from downtown, cuz I get heart palpitations from being too far away from a good restaurant while he didn’t want to see any neighbors. We are now proud owners of 13.02 acres that are just heart-racing away from downtown and we can only see neighbors when the trees are bare in winter.
Then, we took another year to decide on house style. Early on, he squashed my idea of replicating Frank Lloyd Wright’s Falling Water, and I put my foot down on anything resembling Monticello. We finally agreed we both like European designs, so we decided on a French Provincial. But, I continue to be drawn to Architectural Digest’s Tuscan Villa layouts and Miami waterfront homes. He sighs every time we get the Williamsburg catalogue in the mail.
Where is the middle when your ends have been so well-visioned?
