Filling the Void, but Losing the Dance Party Possiblity

When we did our remodel, a lot of our furniture got sent away. Sent away? Yes, I have a very sentimental husband (which, mostly is very cute and romantic) who has a hard time parting with things.

Look in our closet and you will find 20 year old pairs of drawers in his drawers. I am not a bad wife, I buy him new, fresh underwear, but for some reason he hangs onto the old scraggly underwear that has traveled the world.

Don't even get me started on the kitchen table. Before it was refinished, it was the running joke of all of my friends. It was noted on many occasion that the table wasn't fit to be accepted by the Salvation Army or resale. Now it is comfortable, beautiful and going to be around for a long, long time.

This leads me to our living room. It is an empty, cavernous dance floor kind of space right now. We've ordered new furniture, but it is verrrrry slow in coming. Piece by piece it is trickling in. Each piece was carefully chosen, but now as it's arriving, I'm having trouble parting with my potential dance party and packing staging space.

As each piece is carried in, I'm sizing it up in a weird, commitment phobe kind of way. Why? Well, number one, this is the last furniture I'm ever going to get. Ever. With my husband, this is it. I will never see another couch cross the thresh hold of our front door.

Each piece, I'm looking at as a long term commitment. Do I like it enough? So far, even though we picked it out, I'm not sure I like it enough to have it be that last thing that I see before I accidentally fall down the stairs and die.

My friends are funny. They say, "So what? If you don't like, you'll just replace it someday." Then I remind them about the kitchen table, and they quickly tell me how much they are sure that I will love all of my new beautiful furniture that is hand crafted in America and not by children in some third world country and that is why it is taking 8 months to get from showroom to my living room.

Not only am I being slow to warm up to the chairs and end tables that have arrived, I am sad to give up the idea of having the ability to throw a dance party. Not that I'm feeling up to throwing any party at this point, but I love the possibility.

I love having the blank canvas. I love having the possibilities. It's like a new found freedom right here in suburbia.

Now that it's filling with stuff, I'm not sure I want to give up my valuable living room real esate to just any sofa or chair.

Cat Pee

A while back, we had to replace a mattress. While on vacation, one of our two cats decided that it made a really, comfy cozy litter box. If you know the smell of cat pee, you know that there was no saving that mattress. Of course, we pointed the finger at our grouchy, territorial older cat Patch:

She is not a cuddly cat. She is thin and wiry. She hunts and wanders the great outdoors. She is also a very vocal cat--she will let you know.

Years ago, when we first brought home a new kitten, Sara, Patch was having nothing to do with it. We followed all of the directions. Put the new cat in one room and blah blah blah. We tried everything. Nothing worked. 3 years later, we still have the warring kitties.

They openly stalk each other, and it is no game. Sara wants to be friends, Patch wants to get the heck away from her. After a while, when Sara had given up the idea of friendship, Sara was just trying to drive Patch crazy.

Yes, this is Sara. You can carry her around by her tail, dress her in all kinds of crazy clothing and she will be purring in your arms. But, like all super nice people, Sara has a dark side...

Her dark side is peeing all over the place now that we are done with the renovation. I unrolled a brand new wool carpet, and Sara walked right over, looked me in the eye and peed on it. If I had not seen it with my own eyes, I would not have believed it.

The next day, she peed on the next new carpet. I freaked out, but didn't let her know it. But, I freaked out. The next thing I was on serious carpet inspection. There is a cat pee spot on every new carpet in the house. The spots I saw right away, seem to be doing fine, but the pee that has sat there for I don't know how long, is not going away.

I've scrubbed and sprayed and tried all of the internet advice on cat urine. Two carpets I'm pretty sure are completely ruined. Now I'm just terrified about what I haven't found yet, and I have one more carpet yet to come. Ugh!

We are all experiencing Post Traumatic Remodel Syndrome. I understand where Sara is coming from, but I can't afford to replace one more thing.

The More You Change, The Longer It Takes: Ending The Remodel

Things are looking pretty good around here. Our house is truly transformed. Even though we live in a cool, landscaped place, I still wouldn't recommend the remodeling process to anyone.

People keep asking me when it will finally be done. I tell them, when the check bounces. I think these guys will keep finding things to do until we are completely bled dry.

Of course, we were the stereotypical home owners during a remodel. "Wow, wouldn't that doorway look better over there? It seems like this window could be better if it was bigger. Why don't we paint the living room puce. Oh, wait, paint over that puce color and make it green again, please???"

We keep finding things to "change order." A couple of years ago, I didn't know what a change order was.

Yes, I did say a couple of years. We have been in flux for two years now. We've been quite flex with the flux. Now, we need to put the last boxes away and settle back into real life.

We can't afford food, furniture or utilities anymore, but we have a lawn and a fountain and a non-leaking roof over our heads.

Pictures off the Walls, Undeck the Halls

Let's think about this rationally: I started packing up the house in, oh, April. Things keep changing around here, and now I'm still packing and it's, oh, end of June!

I finally had to take down the African Linsang from Birk's door. This is the kind of home that we have. Things are taped here and there. Like I've said before, we live here.

It was sad to take this little piece of the rain forest down. Our home is starting to look more like a house. The vibe is there, but it's empty and lonely without our family and our "stuff."

Blowing the Roof Off of Things

This is the latest pic. Kind of crazy, but on it's way.

Out With Old Memories, In With The New?

We've been moving out of the rooms in our house in stages. Mid-stage, we were due to be out of our master bedroom by June 1st. On June 2nd, we were mostly out, I had a few odds and ends left to box up, but it was looking pretty good.

I came home from errands yesterday, and the entire upstairs hallway was boarded off.

Ugh! No fair warning, my contact lenses were still in their container. Dirty towels, shampoo, a full garbage can--it was all in there. To be clear, we are not remodelling the bathroom, so I was not thinking so much about the "crap" in there.

Ohhhhhhh, but I need that crap. Especially my contact lenses and glasses! And of course, a girl needs her concealer!

Our super dooper contractor (this man seriously should be wearing tights and a cape, he's that awesome!) kindly unbolted the wood and peeled back the plastic and let me go in to clean out my essential lotions and potions.

As I finished boxing up I spied this:

Years ago, we had visited Mrs. Grossman's Sticker Factory. These were some of the treats we brought home. As I was working on some project or another on my bedroom floor, I looked up to see that Ruth had decorated the inside of the closet door.

Yes, I am the type of mother that would let her kid's willy nilly creation remain on the inside of the closet door. I often don't have the heart to part with any of my kid's creations, and I simply didn't care or mind that this adorned my closet door.

It will all soon be a memory in a matter of minutes. The banging and clanking has started for the day.

My new memories won't be as colorful and childlike in my new bedroom, I'm sure. I'm also a little bit sad about that...

This is why I may have to, HAVE TO, go back to teaching pre school!

The Beginning...House Remodel Picture One

Summer, We Are On Our Way, Except, I Forget...

The chaos around here strangles the gentler, slower life until it is gasping for air. There is a pregnant PODS container in my driveway, boxes piled around me and unpaid bills stacked willy nilly. I have 1212 unread emails in my inbox and most of those I've saved as "new" because they represent some type of action item.

Instead of ramping into a fury of craziness, I've struck a calm, zen place. That is one of the best things about my ADHD, I just forget.

I forget that the guitar teacher is coming at 6:30, so all of the banging that I heard wasn't the construction, it was knocking at what is left of the front door.

I forget that Ruth has piano on Wednesdays. I kept staring at the clock, dialing her cell, and wondering where the heck she is.

I forget that I'm supposed to call the doctor for a follow up call on one of my exams. I re-remember every few days, but never actually remember to do it.

I forget to actually buy dinner food at the grocery store. We can snack and throw an amazing appetizer party, but dinner food? Forget it.

I'm the absent minded mommy. My brain has shut down from overload. Maybe this is Post Traumatic Remodeling Syndrome. PTRS?

Yep, I'm PeTeRsed out. No wonder they say that ignorance is bliss.

Construction: Demolition and Deb, When The Going Gets Tough, This Girl Goes To Napa

Well, it all started today. My own personal crew of demolitionists began hacking away at our foundation and garage wall. Digging and banging continued all day and all afternoon.

I dubiously was inside the house trying to put the furniture from one half of my house all into the other half. This is not going to be as easy as I thought.

Meanwhile, in a moving office somewhere, another Deb was emailing me and about shipping furniture to our cottage. I have various items earmarked for the journey, mixed in with my regular stuff, mixed in with the stuff I'm trying to "stuff" into the non-demolished rooms of the house.

All along, my life as usual life keeps chugging along at the end of the school year rate. Papers and bills are piling up on my desk, food is rotting in my refrigerator and the social obligations of the weekend loom ahead.

Outside the house, my super excellent contractor is fixing this and that, helping me along with the process, and valiantly trying NOT TO FREAK ME OUT.

What does a girl do that has half her house in shambles, a little bit of it packed, and a lot of it waiting for some direction? She goes to Napa with her girlfriends. On a Wednesday.

Yup. Off to Napa. Will deal with this all later.

XOXO.