to wreck, and then...

Today's quote from last week since I wrote this a week ago and didn't have time to click "post":

"Thank you for not leaving me when I was intolerable." 

It works for almost every scenario, including remodels with the one you love and the sort of exhaustion that only intense, months-long renovations can incur.

We're not out of the woods, yet. We've barely got walls, let alone floors, sinks, toilets or a shower. We do have windows, and the drywall is up. We're working on ductwork and someone else is working on mudding, taping, sanding and priming. And it's only a few days before we move in. I think we'll be sleeping in a corner of the basement and showering at the gym. 

It's like one of those funny stories from college, except that we're not in college. We're working professionals who have to shower and dress for work Monday through Friday and walk the dog twice a day. We're more than tired and it's not summer and it's soaking wet outside. We're worried about the basement flooding, the exposed insulation, and the fact that we haven't put gutters on the eaves.

At least there's heat and we can always pull out the camp stove (if we had time to cook). I keep reminding myself it will all be over soon and our little house will be a home. I'll have time to read and make things (like dinner), and visit with friends and regale them with stories about this one time with the ladder and almost falling backward down the stairs. Either that, or I'll just point toward [what will be] the beautiful kitchen and say, "We chose that."

In the meantime, I'll enjoy my last few days in a rental where someone else is responsible for when the roof leaks and when we need a new washer. (Psssssst: Babe-eh-loo: We need a washer and dryer.)


One week later:

It's freezing outside (almost literally) but dry. The ductwork is done, the drywall has been mudded, taped, sanded and primed. We packed and stored all of our stuff over the weekend and our cabinets were delivered today. Which means we should probably order our counter tops. And probably the tile for the bathroom.

We bought a new washer and dryer. And a refrigerator, stove, microwave, and dishwasher but we haven't installed a toilet. It's not even close to done, but it's closer than it was last week. And that is all we can hope for, really.

check out schoolhouse electric because it's fun

and restoration hardware these days is amazing.

floor plans

It's not every day you look around at 20 houses or so and pick the one that is not inhabitable. It may have a huge yard and loads of potential, it may even have a garage and a full basement. But it does not have safe floors, there are pieces missing, and there is rot. Also, someone decided it would be fun to see how much water a basement can hold.

Truth be told, this isn't our first rodeo. We've successfully moved into two old, dirty, paint-flaky, stinky houses that had lots of potential that we were willing to paint, clean, deodorize and live in. And we did paint, clean, deodorize and live in them, and they turned out great. Nice, even. We just haven't bought one before.

As it turns out we kinda like this sort of thing, and here we are on the verge of something a little bit crazy. We have no idea (really) what we're getting ourselves into. Neither one of us are carpenters (or plumbers or smithies or window replacers or basement fixer-uppers). We've never sanded our own wood floors or tried to replace a door frame. We've painted (a lot) and we have drawn up 37+ floor plans and even created them in SolidWorks in 3D. We've studied hundreds of kitchens and bathrooms and asked questions and put the kitchen where the bathroom is and the bedroom where the other bedroom was.

And we've signed papers. Lots and lots of papers. And it's nearly ours (but not quite yet).

You know what that means: You're about to the join the adventure, too. Because I have a feeling I won't be able to hold back when I get oh-so-excited about finding a salvaged glass door knob to fit the pint-size door upstairs, and I know I'll probably go hog-wild when things get too crazy and the total bill is waaaay more than we expected (it always is).

But  it's nearly ours.

And we have help.




Pretty kitchen photo courtesy of House Beautiful, the others: that's what we're working with. yep. There is the before.... and the wishes for the after.

creative universe

I came across these photos of fashion designer Erin Fetherston's lovely New York apartment, and her description on Vogue.com of the design and moving-in process:

After living in Paris for five years, "Erin Fetherston moved to New York in 2007 and immediately launched the search for a new space that possessed the same old-world charm as her apartment in France. After looking for more than a year ("It was so much harder than I had expected," she says), she finally found the perfect spot: a recently converted loft in Tribeca with high ceilings and massive windows that overlook the Hudson River. She took to the task of decorating immediately - a process greatly slowed by the fact that is took several months for her beloved antique and vintage furniture to make the slow boat trip across the ocean.

..."I see it as a reflection of my creative universe," she says. "It's romantic and chic, but clean and modern."

I love the thought of living in a space that is "a reflection of my creative universe." And, I'd like to request a closet like hers. If possible, filled with her clothing because it looks amazing and I want to run my fingers over the piles of silk and ribbons and finery.

In other news, our hunt for a new home has begun. We have loads of time, but I can't help getting excited and it's a task not to get attached to places just from seeing the outside. Who knows what's inside and what adventures we'll have as we create our own creative universe within?

One last quote from the designer: "I like everything to be a little magical, a little whimsical."

(And so do I.)

- photos by Claiborne Swanson Frank via Vogue