Art Nouveau?

Perhaps we should just call this yard art and be done with it.

Maybe add a fire...

  
and water feature.

It could work...right?

Is this "The Winter of My Discontent"?

Starting out that way for sure. Let's put it this way... if I ever smell sawdust permeating the air or hear the whrrrrrrr of another chainsaw it will be too soon. AND...just when I was thrilled that we were starting to make some progress and see the forest for the trees (sorry for the pun), we received a neighborly "gift".

I guess the itch to remove troublesome trees is contagious. Our neighbor decided to cut down 3 small trees. I'm sure by now he and the other neighbors think that we are wood hoarders or possibly lumberjack wannabes and therefore covet wood, so he graciously gave us ALL the tree trunks and branches and left them in a pile for us on the side of our yard.  Phil didn't have the heart to tell him we have enough firewood to last us until we croak, so we just dug in and got to work on the NEW pile of wood. This is like the nightmare that never ends.

View from my kitchen window

Even with this setback, we have made some progress in regards to this whole mess. Phil has been working non-stop with the chainsaw and he even let me operate the electric one. That's right - we don't have just one chainsaw - we have FOUR. What? Doesn't everyone??? The question now is where the hell are we going to put all this firewood???
There are...

stacks

of

wood

everywhere

We still have a massive tree to tackle and log splitter to rent.... sigh

Will I EVER get my new master bath started???

Just call me Paul(ette) Bunyan - Lumberjack(jill)

OK... so this picture is a lie. Phil actually does the chainsaw work.
I'm demoted to hauling off the limbs to the woods.

We currently have a yard laden with fallen trees. No - it wasn't from an F5 tornado. We basically did this to ourselves. There were a number of trees and very large limbs that were either dead or a possible threat to our home during a wind or ice storm. Because we are so economical (i.e. cheap) and tree services are so expensive, we paid for the trees and limbs to be dropped, but we have to take care cutting up the wood and removal. May I say that this decision was made by two seemingly rational adults? We're idiots.

Bored? In need of exercise? Want some fresh air? Come on over to our house. Don't forget to bring your chainsaw. And by the way - we have a beer fridge.

Another fine mess we managed to create. So...I have no time for clever repartee for my blog. I'll be back to writing when our yard is
free from bark. Might be a while...

When does a mini-makeover become plastic surgery?

When a renovating retiree is in the picture - that's when. The basement bathroom didn't get a total face-lift, but it was definitely more than a trip to the Clinique or Lancome counter. Possibly more like a nose job-type of reno and almost as painful.

BEFORE = really outdated.
Most of the work was concentrated on this area.

We originally planned to just change the outdated formica vanity top. Sounds easy enough. Then I suggested we get rid of the brass fixtures. OK, not too bad. And while we're at it, let's look for another light fixture - the one in place was the old fashioned "hollywood dressing room" type. Well, if we replace that we may need to replace the outdated mirror. If we remove the mirror (which is glued to the wall), the sheet rock will need to be repaired and repainting the room will be a must. If we paint the walls we need to paint the ceiling. And while I'm at it I might as well paint the trim. Then I thought that the vanity could use an updating with a nice shade of charcoal gray...and this is how a mini-makeover (think - using a new foundation and eyeshadow) turns into a job that costs more, requires more man hours, and a helluva lot more energy (like invasive plastic surgery requiring anesthesia and time to heal).

That is not a blow dryer but a heat gun we used
in hopes of removing the glue from the wall.

As usual there were some bumps and craters in the road. I won't go into the fiasco involving the installation of the lighting fixture. I'm sure this product that was made in China was designed just to piss off Americans that were stupid enough to buy it. 'Nuf said. And re-installing the toilet tank and the new plumbing for the sink gave us a better appreciation of plumbers that can do it quickly and only one time (yes - why do things once when you can do it multiple times?) without having leaks. It took us over a week to complete this project and once again I'd like to throw a wrench at the TV when the people in those commercials spritely claim, "Update your bathroom in a weekend!" Idiots.

After
 My daughter's artwork was a perfect compliment to the more contemporary design.

Not too bad for under $400.

Budget was $300 however, we went over - shocker. We were able to use a faucet we originally had in the upstairs bath along with hooks, hinges and cabinet pulls that were stored in the attic. I had some paint in the garage leftover from painting the living areas that I could utilize. We kept the same shelf which my dad hung over 25 years ago, and just spruced it up with some white spray paint, which we always keep on hand. All of the items that we were able to reuse helped keep the costs* in line which resulted in me naming this room the "mish-mosh bathroom". Part new - part leftover stuff. Hopefully you'll agree that it came together fairly well and didn't completely break the bank.

Vanity top $140 
Mirror $64
Light Fixture $72
Toilet paper holder $10
Vanity paint $15
Ceiling paint $27
Misc. painting and plumbing supplies $30
Total:   $358
$58 over budget

*All costs from Lowes include Phil's 10% veterans discount; however it does not include the gas consumed for the many trips back and forth to Lowes to get the right plumbing parts.

This is just a warm up leading to the Big Kahuna of renovation- THE MASTER BATH. Stay tuned... 

Alright, which one of you hog-tied the substitute?

I thought this excerpt from "Caught in the Middle" would be appropriate at this time since I have decided , in retirement, to substitute teach a few days a week. Let me clarify that I am choosing to sub in elementary schools NOT middle schools, and if you continue to read this excerpt you will see why...

             * * * *  * * * * *

Alright…which one of you hog-tied the substitute? (aka PARTY TIME)

Thankfully it never got to this extreme, although it’s been close – too close. This book would definitely not be complete without a chapter dedicated to the ever-mistreated, always underpaid, unsung hero - the substitute teacher.

There are a lot of very challenging and difficult jobs in a school. As you read in the first chapter, I have had quite a few. One of the toughest was substitute teacher. When my daughter was in 2nd grade, I decided that it would be a great idea for me to earn some extra money by being a sub. I only substituted at my daughter’s elementary school and spent most of my time subbing for kindergarten teachers. I guess all the snot, pee, poop, and god knows what other germs that these kindergarten teachers endured was just too much for their immune systems. Substitute teaching in an elementary school was never easy, but in a middle school??? That’s a whole other ball game.

Right now, I want you to think back to when you were in school. Go ahead, rewind that clock. Do you remember what your reaction was when you walked into the classroom and you saw a substitute at the teacher’s desk?

In elementary school, you were worried and wondered where your teacher had gone and when he or she was coming back. It just wasn’t the same without your beloved, real teacher. You were sad.

In high school it’s all about getting that diploma and getting into college. Having a substitute was frustrating because you knew the class was going to get behind, and then when the teacher DID get back well, you would be working doubletime. You were annoyed.

In middle school, unless you were a total geek, it was just quite simply – PARTY TIME! You were ecstatic, joyous, and celebratory. Word spread like wildfire and those that would, were already thinking of ways to create disruptions. Not a whole lot has changed. Only now, I think the mischief has been kicked up a notch and drives these poor substitutes to new levels of insanity.

As a middle school administrator I always made sure I knew which classes had a sub so I could be sure to walk through regularly and give the students the stink-eye so they would know if they got into trouble they would be dealing with me.

As I walked through the classroom, I sincerely thanked the sub for his or her time in hopes that he or she would come back again and live to fight another day. Although most of them, at the end of the school day looked not only harried, but shell-shocked.  After the last bell rang, I’m sure they ran like hell out the doors and headed straight to the local Mexican Restaurant for the two-for-one margarita special.

Remember, we are dealing with pubescent kids who truly only care about one thing - what their peers think, which means showing their butt when they have a substitute is part of the package. Not literally thank god – at least I don’t remember dealing with someone that mooned a sub. Maybe my brain has just tried to wipe out that memory. Although I do remember a situation in a Florida middle school regarding a boy mooning the entire girls’ volleyball team, but that’s a whole other story.

If parents could see how their little darling behaves in the classroom when they have a substitute, they would think that someone had absconded with their child’s brain and body.

Parent: Where is my child? What creature has overtaken his mind and body?

Me: The alien known as Hormones (pronounced hor – mone- ees) from the planet Idontgiveashit.

  * * * * * * * * * * * *

Substitute teaching certainly has its ups and downs. But so does renovating. The bedroom closet is repaired and more structurally sound than it ever was. This week we will be working on the mini-bathroom makeover. I'll have before, during and after pictures soon!

What things go BUMP in the night?

All the clothes in our closet- that's what.

Phil and I had planned on using this weekend to put a more modern touch on the basement bathroom - just a slight makeover to bring it into the 21st century. If you have been following my blog, you know I have been talking about our plans for the master bath renovation for some time. Being the great procrastinators that we are, we found a smaller project to tackle before the one that will surely lead to anxiety overdrive, an empty bank account, and a trip to the marriage counselor. So, we decided to take a less challenging project first - the basement bathroom. We ordered a new vanity top and were ready to go with the plans to spruce up the cave-like space that has not been updated in over 10 years. Then the shisnick hit the fan - or literally - the crap hit the floor.

Wednesday morning at 5AM while slumbering and enjoying the last moments of dreamland, we were awoken with a CRASH! I have to say it scared the bejeezuz out of me. I thought to myself, "Well, that's it. The house was finally crumbling." But thankfully it wasn't the roof falling in. It was the shelving and rack in our closet that holds all the clothes and items (which we probably don't need) that occupy the shelf above where the clothes hang. The drywall pulled away from the studs and it fell like a pine tree in an ice storm. And to me, it was just as loud.

The end result of faulty sheet rock installation 30 years ago.

Phil went to Walmart (better him than me) and bought some clothes racks to temporarily hold all our clothes. It looks like the time we thought we'd be spending on the basement bathroom will be spent repairing sheet rock and fixing the closet. And dammit, I'll probably end up having to paint the inside of the closet, which no one but the future buyers of our house will ever see. Can you tell I'm whining???

The boys' and Annamarie's rooms are completely
filled with shisnick from our closet.

This is not going to be an easy or fun fix.  We do not have large walk in closets that would be easy to work in and around. No - we have the old fashioned narrow closets, which are a pain in the butt. And let's hope we don't have to take the doors off. Getting them back on is about as fun as having oral surgery.

Ready for sheet rock, some mud, and new paint.

I suppose we should look at this as an "opportunity" to get rid of clothes and items we don't wear or need any longer. Simplify and minimize. That's my new motto. Maybe another yard sale is in our future...

Up next! Basement bathroom mini-makeover!

Is Chicago "My kind of town"?

As Frank Sinatra crooned the words "My kind of town, Chicago is", he certainly wasn't exaggerating. Neither is the sign advertising the the stretch of State Street called the "Magnificent Mile". Chicago is pure delight.

Last year, after my mom passed away, my sister and I decided to plan a trip down memory lane in honor of my mom and dad. Sort of retracing our roots, so to speak.We were both born in or around the city of Chicago. My parents met and fell in love in this city and our grandparents lived and worked here as well. I had not been back to the city in 40 years and am so glad I finally found my way back "home".

The tiny house we lived in when I was born.
(Schiller Park - right outside of the city)

My sis and I had a wonderful time visiting all the places we lived and places we loved, while reminiscing and retelling family stories. But in addition to this, something unexpected happened to me on this trip - I fell in love with the Windy City.

I have traveled a great deal all over the world and have been to some of the world's greatest cities: London. Paris, Rome, Tokyo, New York, Los Angeles, Miami, and many more.  Up until now, I have always thought of Paris as my most favorite city. However, I think Paris now has some stiff competition.  Chicago definitely has taken a top spot on my list. 

Outdoor Amphitheater

Why??? Well, I'll start with the obvious - it's gorgeous. The city is rich in art and architecture. You may say - "Yeah, well so are all the other cities". That may be true, but Chicago just has a "niceness" to it that the other cities just don't have. You feel warm and welcome here as if the city envelopes you in it's hospitality and history. It's a special place where...

...like London, Paris, and Rome, a river runs right through the city. While on a boat traveling through the core of this metropolis, you are surrounded by phenomenal structures such as the Wrigley Building and Marina City.

The Chicago River

Marina City

A view of The Wrigley Building

...art and sculptures by Picasso and other renowned artists are scattered about the city so that "Everyman" can enjoy the work of  these creative geniuses.

Cloud Gate (aka The Bean) at Millennium Park

...you can rent bicycles and ride along the lake on an 18 mile trail and enjoy a view of the beach and lake and the parks. 

Trail along Lake Michigan
The John Hancock building is in the background.

... the people are so nice and helpful that at stores, restaurants, hotels, while walking on the streets, and even at the airport you never meet a snarky person. 

... it's CLEAN. I mean really CLEAN.

... the neighborhoods consist of stunning, tree-lined streets with buildings built at the turn of the century. The beautiful cut limestone or brick houses with ironwork are to die for.  

I imagine this city as humble. It doesn't have the bustle or trademark style of New York. It doesn't have the quirkiness of LA, the snobbishness of Paris, nor the hipness of South Beach. It's simply nice - like its people. 

To me, Chicago is the forgotten city in the USA. It doesn't brag, wave its greatness in your face, or try too hard. It's just surprisingly wonderful. Chicago was my first home and this trip helped me develop a great appreciation and love for it. I think my mom and dad would be very pleased that my sister and I had a fantastic time in the city where we began our journey through life.

Frank Sinatra said it best through the lyrics of a song about this great city:

My Kind of Town

This is my kind of town, Chicago is
My kind of town, Chicago is
My kind of people, too
People who smile at you

And each time I roam, Chicago is
Calling me home, Chicago is
Why I grin like a clown
It's my kind of town

You CAN go home again and I definitely will!

The quest for HGTV stardom continues...

The house that stole my heart.

I have made my first step towards becoming the newest HGTV star and no - I didn't have a face-lift or boob-lift. Although that certainly would be helpful - no doubt.

I found an awesome project. Now all I have to do is convince Phil. Oh... and find the money, write a proposal, find a producer etc etc. But one small step at a time...

Phil and I took a field trip to Thomasville last weekend just to check things out. I was certainly right about one thing. The town is adorable. The downtown area has a very young, hip feel. Old brick storefronts' second stories have been converted to lofts and condos that are attracting a younger clientele. There are restaurants, bars, coffee houses and boutiques. Broad Street is indeed broad and brick-paved giving it that historic charm.

We spent the afternoon looking at old houses that need restoration. They all come with similar issues - termite damage, mold and mildew, funky layouts and additions made throughout the years that are definitely not to code. But they also come with incredible craftsmanship (mantles, woodwork) and history. As I age, I find myself becoming drawn to less shiny, new objects and more to weathered items made from quality materials that sport a patina or a maybe a bit of rust (sort of like my skin and joints!). Things that were made 100 years ago were not mass produced, but required a knowledgeable laborer who learned the process from a master, like these old houses. 

OK...so it needs a bit work - don't we all?
All hardwood floors are intact as well as bead-board ceilings.

One house, built in the 1890's, particularly stole my heart. It is a mess. Every part of the house needs work. It looks like it could be set for demolition in the near future. 







To ignore this pestering itch in regards to this house and find something a bit less overwhelming would be the safe thing to do - the practical thing to do. That just makes sense. Phil and I are older with a limited bank account and should guard what we have. I also understand that as we age, a lot of decisions (or lack of) are based on fear and practicality, as opposed to unbridled confidence, spontaneity and passion like when we were young. Does it have to be like this? If so - that's pretty sad. I just don't think Phil and I are ready to give up those aspects of youth yet. Yes, the work would be very challenging and investing in something like this is always a risk. But, this house could be magnificent again, as I imagine it was when it was first inhabited by William Beverly, the lumber dealer and alderman who was the original owner 110 years ago. 

They don't make 'em like that anymore!

Gorgeous pocket door. Not sure what the deal is about all the pink though.

Original butler's pantry is still intact.

Maybe you or someone you know is looking for an investment in a piece of history and a possible slam dunk real estate-wise. 

Wait - I just had another brilliant idea. Hey... Nicole Curtis - listen up. We could be partners! Yeah - I'll even work on toning the arms and get some hair extensions! It's a helluva alot warmer in Thomasville than Detroit! Whaddyasay? You in? We could save this house, make it shine again, and make some money in the process. 

 Or.... maybe I'll win a contest or the lottery this year. If I do, my first call will be to Thomasville with an offer for this house. Then, the second call will be to the plastic surgeon. After all, you have to look good on HGTV, right?