The Fixer Upper House and Garden

The Powder Room

When people ask me if we remodeled the entire house, I always say no. This is because we didn't totally change the first-floor powder room.  We kept the funky corner sink, the black-and-white hex tiles and the tall, narrow radiator that keeps the 3' x 5' room toasty all winter. Note the use of "totally". We did make a few changes. We created a shelf-niche where there was once a window, and we removed the sail-boat wallpaper.  It is very hard to photograph this room because it is so small! Here goes...

Evergreens as Pimples

I don't know when these five furry juniper bushes were planted. I am guessing they are 50 years old or older. In the winter when it snows, the bushes look like igloos. Five children can lay across them without sinking an inch.

I feel about these evergreens the way I feel about a zit that is oozing white puss: Just let me dig in and get at it!  

You Scratch My Belly...I'll Scratch My Back

I love bringing Allie to the playground. Whenever anyone reaches down to pet her, she rolls onto her back for a belly rub.

Shades of White

A situation with my painter has caused me to rethink the way I am parenting my daughters.

Last week after the painters had been working on the exterior for 2 days, I realized they were using Brilliant White on the trim, when I had told them to use Dove White. (How to describe the difference? Brilliant White is the color of Oprah's teeth after a visit to the dentist. Dove White is like Half 'N Half ... before you pour it into coffee).

 GC and the painters tried to convince me that even though I thought I wanted Dove White, the brighter Brilliant White which they had chosen was actually a better match to the window mullions. They talked about the importance of maintaining consistency; they said it was the architect's idea; they said it looked really good; they didn't remember hearing me mention Dove White. And they pointed out that they'd already purchased xbezillion gallons of Brilliant White and had invested 2 days of labor into the job.

Choosing Exterior Paint Colors

One of the things I tried to avoid throughout this renovation was making decisions at the last minute. When we renovated our first house 13 years ago, I was so unprepared for finishing decisions that I would have to rush out and buy stuff the moment the carpenter told me he needed it. For example, when he informed me it was time to install bathroom tile, I buckled my baby into her car seat and raced off to the tile store. When he needed the bath tub, I frantically dialed Husband's cell phone and told him to get one on his way home from the airport. We picked out the kitchen cabinets from a lineup at Home Depot and decided on exterior paint colors after half an hour in a paint store. It turned out well enough---it was a 100-year old Victorian two-flat that we rescued from decades of neglect, and for the five years that we lived there, we loved it completely.

This time around, as many of you know, I took the opposite approach: I researched and priced out every centimeter of The Fixer Upper House ... Until now!

The painters are here to do the exterior work. All along I've been planning on a "sand" color for the window trim, but I haven't figured out which of the hundreds of "sand" colors I should go with. I want the shutters to be dark green--but which dark green? I have given not a moment's thought to the beadboard, fasciaboard and all of that stuff. And I totally have disregarded the centerpiece of the house: The Front Door.

Into Every Life Some Tinkle Must Fall

We've been back in the house for a month and almost everyone loves the new digs. The girls love the bedrooms with their bay windows and built-in niches. I love the kitchen with its beadboard ceiling, costa esmerelda counters and the gorgeous cabinets made in an Amish barn. Husband loves the bedroom's vaulted ceiling, the bathroom's six-foot tub and the fact that all five of us can stand in the wide and sunny 2nd floor hallway without feeling like we're on a train. Allie loves the mudroom.

Milo, meanwhile, is having issues. He follows me everywhere, including the shower. When I'm in the yard, he watches me from window to window to window (as shown in the photo at left). He resists going in his crate at night--whereas he once happily crawled in whenever we said "Kennel Milo," now he drags his feet to the gate, plops down like a sphinx and let's out a loud sigh; we have to lift or nudge him in. Since he jumped over the mudroom's Dutch door, my dog-trainer Jenn (www.jennandthedogs.blog.com) suggested that I put his crate in the mudroom: He pees in it. I had Sebastian, our carpenter, screw plexiglass onto the Dutch door's front and a wooden cap on its top so Milo can't pull himself over the door, but he's working hard to scale it: there are deep scratch marks on the cap already.

The Butler Did It

I don't know anyone who is a butler and I don't know anyone who has a butler, but I've read that enrollment in butler-training schools is very high. We occassionally have an imaginary butler, but he's more of a menace than an apt assistant at managing household chores. For example, if someone leaves milk on the counter overnight but no one fesses up, I might say:

"Perhaps Hobbs did it?"

Or if we're watching TV and no one wants to get up to get the cookies from the pantry, I'll say:

"I think Hobbs is off tonight."