The Fixer Upper House and Garden

Good Morning, Sunshine

Despite early wisps of clouds, my town was treated to a spectacular sunrise on Thursday morning. Here's a view from the beach near my home, at 5:50 a.m.

Stuff

Getting Rid Of Stuff has been a major theme for me these past two years. After a lifetime of being an accumulator, I now love throwing things away. Today I threw away a scratched Teflon skillet, thus liberating the pots-and-pans drawer (as well as my family ) from a potentially poisonous cooking utensil. I also gave away our cream-colored dining room rug, which I once loved but whose color I always regretted, especially after Milo used it as a poop mat when we were on vacation recently. I gave the rug to a man who came to haul away the bricks from the front yard. I gave it to him on one condition: That he must absolutely clean the rug before presenting it to his wife. I'll never know if he does this, but I tried.

Here's another thing I gave away today: a ton of bricks and bluestone shards. Well maybe not a ton. I'm not good at judging things like tons. It seemed like a ton to me. But the thing that really puts today on the anti-clutter radar is that at long last, I got rid of the ugly evergreens out front. Except for a few gnarly juniper stumps, the front yard is as naked as new construction. 

Ahhhhh.......

For a progression of photos of the front of my house, click below

Man Working

Death To The Evergreens! Armed with a Sawzall, Husband decimated the ugly shrubs  that have been pricking passersby for some 40 years. We're waiting till September to do any serious planting, but it will be nice to be rid of these bushes.

Knock, Knock

When we moved into The Fixer Upper House a year and a half ago, I got a note that went something like this: "Until you get a proper mailbox, the United States Postal Service will no longer deliver mail to this address."

This unwelcome letter made me gloomy, because I had to pick up our mail at the post office until I replaced the 2-inch mail slot next to the front door with a mail box big enough to handle today's volume of junk mail. I knew it would take months...and months to find a mailbox that met my standards. 

I had a vague idea about those standards: circa 1920s, wall-mount, brass with a brownish patina to go with the front door's 100-year-old lock and handle. And I knew I

didn't want art deco or arts & craft. Foreshadowing the level of effort I would put into finding other house fixtures, I searched ebay and craigslist; googled "mailboxes circa 1920;" looked through dozens of catalogs and magazines; and shopped malls, home-design stores, antique stores and flea markets. But I couldn't find the mailbox of my dreams.

Fortunately, about a year ago I got on good terms with Glen, my mail carrier. I think he felt sorry for me because the

Men Working II

It was one of those days you want to bottle and sell: 80, sunny, breezy enough that the bugs don't get you. At the beach, the sand was warm and the lake was wavy. The kids swam and the dog frolicked. And at home, the Italians were able to just about finish the stoop, despite a brief storm this morning. I'm going to miss those guys! Here's a pic:.

Men At Work!

I have no idea how I survived the mayhem of the past year, when we ripped the back off our house, gutted the interior and began the laborious job of putting it back together. Never a quiet moment; never an empty in-box on the cell phone; never a to-do list with fewer than 20 things on it. I actually loved  the process but when the bulk of it was over and we moved back into the house....I wanted it to be over. As in complete. Finished. See ya later! The End.

This week has been like old times, with a parade of dented vans and pick-up trucks lining the street in front of my house. We returned from the north woods on Saturday with tan children, nervous dogs and four duffle bags filled with dirty laundry. When C and M brought

the bags downstairs to get the laundry going, their bare feet sloshed and sunk into the play-room carpeting: a crack in the air conditioner unit caused a leak that saturated the w-to-w carpet.

The brand-new w-to-w carpet.

So Disaster Relief Services arrived on Sunday with massive fans and dehumidifiers. Along with GC and HVAC guy, they've been in and out all week seeing to things. Meanwhile, the Italian stoneworkers are back working on the front steps, which also required the services of two carpenters. And I'm bidding out the landscaping and fretting over what to plant on the side of the house in order to screen the direct view we have into our next-door neighbor's kitchen. Ah, seems like old times. 

Almost Impossible Weather

Given that we've experienced every possible extreme weather condition since we moved to the  Midwest exactly 2 years ago, it's with great pleasure and some suspicion that I report the following: Summer has been glorious. I can't recall ever experiencing so many consecutive days of breezy, sun-filled, 80-degree weather anywhere or at any time in my life. Not a single June day was sweltering-hot or windbreaker-cold. We've had rain for sure; strong thunderous storms that wake your dreams and rock the trees (it's storming as I write this). But the spells pass quickly, and we do have that new moat of a storm drain to protect the basement. We also have a new bluestone patio that's perfect for a sun-dappled morning cup of coffee and a bowl of Quaker Granola. With the sun warming my pj's, I hardly notice the stones don't match: