Blog-O! (Posts about houseandhome)

Settling

Amy Brown — Wed, 27 Dec 2006 03:25:00 GMT

People keep asking me if we're getting settled in, and until today I was getting pretty tired of it, because I really didn't feel all that settled. Today, though, we moved a bunch of boxes out of the living room and laid down the rug, cleared the upstairs landing, and unpacked a couple of big bins, and now it finally does feel like we're getting settled, like this is really where we live and not just where all our stuff is.

Of course we still have a million things to unpack, but we have been cleverly hiding boxes in the basement rather than face them, and we are managing quite nicely with the forty percent of our possessions that we have unpacked. I have a grand plan for unpacking the rest which involves a large box labelled "Garage Sale"; Blake and I will dig into that project in the New Year.

It's a crappy little house (in some ways, and in others it's wonderful), and sometimes I wonder why we bought it. The kitchen needs redoing, the bathroom needs redoing (not to mention there's only the one), the basement isn't done at all... this house is a money sponge capable of absorbing every spare penny for the next two decades. Why didn't we buy one of the shiny, renovated perfect houses with the dug-out, finished basements and the second bathrooms and the nice kitchens?

Money, for one thing; we didn't pay much for this place. But we're going to have to put more than the difference back into it to get it up to snuff. The burning desire to be knee-deep in plaster dust for the next five years? A passion to express myself through interior design? That can't be right.

I don't think that's the reason we bought the house. I think we fell in love with the oldness of it, with the perfect trim and the retro cabinets, and with the challenge of taking this beloved old house and bringing it up to date without erasing its character; deciding what to keep and what to take away. Taking what is in a sense a blank slate and making it our own.

We've got some pretty good ideas about keeping the character while still beating the house into twenty-first century submission. We're going to rip down a bunch of walls, but save the trim and cleverly use it elsewhere: we're going to use the trim from between the living room and the dining room to frame a huge pass-through between the kitchen and the dining room; we're going to use trim from one of the doors to create an archway at the end of the new front hall; we're going to use two doors to make a headboard, and another to make a mirror for the top of the stairs. We're going to salvage the doorknobs and line them up on a board to hang coats and hats on. We're going to patch the floors rather than refinish (or replace) the hardwood. And of course I want to do the kitchen in a style reminiscent of the fifties; I almost want the kitchen to look like it was installed in the fifties and impeccably maintained, rather than to look like a new kitchen with all the latest fashions and gadgets.

I think when we're done this first phase of renovations, the house will be modern and comfortable, with an open living space, lots of light and air, a large, usable kitchen, and new wiring and light switches in sensible places, but it will still retain the patina of age that we love.

We're In

Amy Brown — Mon, 04 Dec 2006 03:07:00 GMT

We made it in, and back on the internet in record time (after the cable dude drilled a hole in our wall. All the way through our wall. With a really long drill bit.)

Moving day went pretty smoothly, all in all. It took way longer than I thought it would to move us over; we have a lot of stuff, which is funny because I hate stuff. I guess I don't hate it all that much. We weren't all moved until seven at night, and then we had a minor crisis because I wasn't smart enough to set aside pyjamas and toothbrushes and stuff, so we had to go digging through boxes before the girls could go to be. In fact they both went to bed in regular clothes because I gave up on their pyjamas.

Today Blake and I and Morgan worked hard building furniture and unpacking, and the place still looks like hell but we did manage to sit on our actual sofa and watch some actual TV this evening, and isn't that what it's all about?

Tomorrow the plumber comes to install our shower converter thing (not that exact one but something similar) and our super sexy bridge faucet (that exact one, I believe, although we didn't buy it from that supplier). Also the couch dudes come back to reassemble the huge couch in Cordelia's room, and then I think that's all for people coming to fix stuff. For a while, anyway.

I kind of love my little house. I knew I would. It seems to be holding all our stuff fairly well, even without buying new furniture and installing clever storage solutions and, you know, adding fifteen feet to the back. Although I am still trying to figure out how previous owners have managed without any kind of coat closet. I love the Deco fixtures, I love how it gets warm really quickly and stays that way (because it doesn't have a wall of eight-foot windows in every room), I love the neighbours, I love having rooms for the girls.

We are still getting used to the new noises. The floors upstairs are so creaky that our ten pound cat sets them off; last night poor Blake kept getting up because he thought Delphine was coming down the hall, but no, it was just Thomas. Tonight Blake and I spent some time figuring out the source of a weird pinging noise; turns out a floor joist in the dining room is attached to a duct, and every time you step in it it flexes the duct enough to make it ping. And now we think we can hear the neighbour's television.

Tomorrow is Monday; Blake is off work and Delphine is in daycare, so hopefully we can get a good pile of stuff done. Hooray!

Moving Day Minus One

Amy Brown — Fri, 01 Dec 2006 15:40:00 GMT

Tomorrow we move. We move from a spacious tenth-floor condo to a tiny earth-bound house. We move from the longest street in the world to a tiny block in a sweet, domestic, leafy neighbourhood. From sky to ground, from noise to quiet, from city to... well, what used to be suburb, eighty years ago.

Everything is pretty well packed, apart from the stuff we will need today and tomorrow morning, and Delphine's toys which we left out to keep everything as normal as possible for her. We signed all the legal papers yesterday, and we should get our new house keys today.

The new house is going to be an adventure, perhaps more of an adventure than you necessarily want your primary residence to be. Between the no shower and the no dishwasher and the ancient stove... well, as my real estate agent keeps telling me encouragingly, "it will be like being at the cottage!" Without the beach and the ice cream stand.

Incidentally, yesterday I learned that "So are you all packed yet?!" is the "Still pregnant?!" of moving, and equally annoying and unhelpful. "No! Piss off!"

We're going to be offline for a couple of days; cable will shut down tomorrow and the cable guy isn't coming to set it up at the new place until Sunday morning. And I am frankly a little skeptical that he will be able to get it working; I don't think the cable company appreciates the depth and breadth of the non-cable-having-ness of the new house. (No cable. Ever.) We'll see. Anyway, the website will be down and we won't be getting email, so if you want to contact us you'll have to phone, except the phone will be shut off on Saturday morning. So you'll have to visit. We'll be somewhere on Davisville.

See you in the new house!

New House Nerves

Amy Brown — Wed, 15 Nov 2006 03:23:00 GMT

I know, it has been weeks since I posted. If it makes you feel any better, I haven't written any email either. It's not so much that I've been busy as I've been in a state of frozen panic, afraid to do anything that isn't related to real estate lest I break the fragile thread that is holding together all these transactions and agreements and unimaginably large sums of money.

But our real estate agent just called to say that all the documents and amendments and waivers have been signed and everything is going to go ahead, really truly, pinkie-swear. It's real.

I'm not excited about the new house. Actually, there is almost nothing I am looking forward to about the new house; I am not looking forward to climbing up and down stairs, I am not looking forward to doing laundry in the basement, I am not looking forward to hand-washing dishes, I am not looking forward to a bathtub with no shower, I am not looking forward to being miles (okay, blocks) away from the nearest Starbucks.

It is almost comical how this house doesn't add up. We made a wish list before we went house hunting: big kitchen — not really; two bathrooms — nope; big deck — nope; detached — no; shower — shower?! I didn't put "shower" on my wish list, because what house doesn't have a shower? Well, mine.

And yet I still love the house, our little tiny dark house, because it is ours and we can do whatever we want with it; we can reno the kitchen, we can add a room at the back (if the neighbours don't mind — please don't let the neighbours mind), we can dig out the basement and put in a laundry room and a den and a nice bathroom with a crazy Japanese tub, we can fix up the bathroom upstairs, we can add a big deck and a patio and do beautiful landscaping in the front.

We're planning, soon after we move in, to add about fifteen feet to the back — the kitchen is now at the back of the house, and we are going to move the kitchen into the additional space and put a kind of office slash play area where the kitchen is now. (That's if we can afford it; we haven't had a quote from the contractor yet.)

We're going to put in new pale wood fifties-style fitted cabinets, a modern gas stove (sorry, but the old stove is going; I will try and find a good home for it), a new fridge, a dishwasher, a forties-inspired white subway tile backspash, fifties-style blue countertops and blue linoleum on the floors. We're keeping the original sink and the white painted cabinet with the amazing handles and hinges. The office will house our fifties metal desk and a set of fitted cabinets, matching the ones in the kitchen, to house jackets and boots and things, as well as providing more pantry space.

Stylistically it's going to be, frankly, a retro pastiche combining Deco elements from the forties with Moderne and Contemporary influences from the fifties, and of course a few current pieces like the appliances and lighting. Since Moderne and Contemporary are (ironically, linguistically speaking) pretty much opposite, I have no idea if it will work. I am hoping it will kind of blend, organically. I mean, if it were 1956 and you had been living someplace for a while, you would probably have all those elements in your home. We'll see. I figure after it's been there for a few years and gotten bashed around a bit it will look fine. And I will be used to it and won't care.

What I am looking forward to is the location, which is the one thing you can't add to a house. The new house is halfway between the street with the library, two patisseries, a bulk food store and a really nice kids' clothing store, and another street which houses bakeries, butchers, a cheese store, a second-hand kids' stuff store, a new kids' stuff store, two ice cream parlours, a drugstore and of course Starbucks. And by halfway, I mean less than ten minutes walk to either street; maybe five minutes.

The bus stop is right on the corner, about three houses away, and the bus comes every ten minutes. And if you can't wait, it's only about a ten or fifteen minute walk to the subway.

The block is also thick with children; there are about a dozen houses on the block and all but maybe one or two have children. The school is an easy walk away, and it's one of the best in the city. So, you know, it could be worse.

Selling. Or not.

Amy Brown — Fri, 20 Oct 2006 17:23:00 GMT

The condo is on the market, and has been for a couple of weeks, which means my entire life is dedicated to cleaning and tidying. It's boring and has convinced me that it will never be worth my time to have a perfectly clean and tidy house in real life, However, I have learned a thing or two.

First, it is actually worthwhile to sweep every day. I always thought daily sweeping was the province of the obsessively clean, but now I find out that sweeping the kitchen, bathroom (the one with the kitty litter box) and front hall yields an impressive pile of crud, every single day. Huh!

I also suspect (although this is only a hypothesis for now) that sweeping the bathroom every day would prevent the build-up of that layer of linty, hairy crud behind the toilet -- no lint and hair, no buildup! That would be nice.

And second, I have learned that the cats only use their litter box overnight, which I suppose follows from that whole nocturnal thing. That means that if you clean out the box in the morning, you're good to go for the rest of the day.

For some reason I was expecting the condo to move really quickly, and so earlier this week Blake and I were pretty dispirited that it hadn't. I was poking around the place trying to figure out what the problem was... stains on the carpet? Floors need refinishing? Cheap closet doors? Cursing the lazy builders who didn't bother to actually square off the walls. But I've now decided that the right person just hasn't come through yet; when you have a good location and high ceilings and big windows and a view like ours, carpets and floors and doors fade into insignificance. (Obviously, or we would have fixed them by now ourselves.) When someone comes along with the right budget and the right priorities the place will sell, we just have to wait for that someone.

OhmygodWhatHaveWeDone?

Amy Brown — Thu, 28 Sep 2006 03:28:00 GMT

So. We bought a house. Yeah.

It's little. It's dark. It's a semi-detached and it is about four feet away from the other neighbour, the one who isn't attached. It hasn't been renovated for twenty years; it is very much like a time capsule.

On the other hand, it has been impeccably maintained; the paint is perfect, the woodwork is flawless, and it's spotless. It wasn't terribly much money (for the area) so we will have a little extra to do urgent fix-ups (hello, dishwasher?) It is on an amazing street in a perfect neighbourhood in exactly the location I wanted. It has a 180-foot-deep lot so we have miles of backyard, which means we can add additions and decks and patios on the back and still have room for a garden and playhouse for the girls. And a circus tent. And a helicopter pad. It has three big bedrooms and a big kitchen.

Go look, pictures are here.

Evening Routine

Amy Brown — Fri, 14 Jul 2006 14:03:00 GMT

It recently became obvious that Delphine doesn't need to go to bed at six-thirty any more. We put her to bed, bright-eyed and fresh, and she sat up and read books, or popped out at regular intervals to make contrived requests: "Mummy! I need sumpin'." "What do you need?" "I need another buddy (stuffed toy)." Uh-huh.

Since we had been feeding her supper at five and then making and eating our supper after she was in bed, we couldn't really move her bedtime any later unless we included her in our supper, which we have done. She sits on the counter and watches while we cook, or joins in and helps; yesterday she swished the lettuce around in the cold water to rinse off all the delightful organic lettuce goo. And then she eats with us; we all sit at the big table and make conversation like a real family. I'm fairly excited about this — I think eating together is one of the nicest things you can do as a family, and I have been looking forward to this for a long time.

It kind of hoses our evenings, though. When Delphine went to bed early we could tuck her in and then eat supper in front of the television like slobs. It's an appalling habit, and I suppose it's good that we don't do it any more, but it was very efficient and allowed for plenty of TV-watching. With Delphine in bed at seven-thirty or eight that only leaves us a couple of hours to tidy the kitchen and watch TV before it's time for bed, since I am trying to get into bed before ten so I can get enough sleep before the Cordelia wake-up call at five-thirty in the morning. If you take away half an hour for a run and another twenty minutes for an epsom salts bath, that barely leaves enough time for last night's Daily Show. I am turning into one of those people who are too busy, even if it's only too busy to watch television.

It also means I have to put together a good repertoire of quick and easy meals, which I suppose is par for the course for people with children.

Here's our evening routine, a snapshot of life with a baby and a three-year-old:

4:30 pick Delphine up from daycare (when applicable)
5:00 snack for Delphine and I, supper for Cordelia
6:00 Cordelia's bedtime — sometime between 6:00 and 7:00 Blake gets home from work
6:30 make dinner
7:00 eat dinner
7:30 Delphine's bedtime: pyjamas, pee, brush teeth, read two books, watch two movies on Daddy's computer, bed
8:00 I go for run (three days a week) while Blake cleans up after dinner (yeah!)
8:30 home for dessert and TV
9:30 bath and read a book
10:00 bed

Home Alone

Amy Brown — Tue, 06 Sep 2005 18:47:00 GMT

I am home alone. I finished work last week and I'm now off on maternity leave, or I will be as soon as the company I worked for gets the Record of Employment forms I requested two weeks ago. Delphine is still in daycare, though; we are going to keep her in daycare even after the baby comes because she likes it and it will provide her with some nice stability and routine in what will otherwise be a bit of a shocking time for her.

So for the first time in two years, I am not beholden to anyone. I don't have to structure my days around naps and meals and diapers and activities, or work to someone else's list of things to do. I feel adrift and confused and a little guilty.

I have gotten a few things done today, and I have many many more things to do, but I am procrastinating pretty badly as evidenced by the very existence of this weblog entry. Today I still need to empty and load the dishwasher, put away the vegetables that were delivered, clean the tub and the toilet, and take out the recycling. I would also like to hang a tapestry of my dad's that has been sitting at the back of a closet, because now I have a really good spot for it in Delphine's room.

The good news is I am not due for another couple of weeks, so I have lots of time to get things done.

Living the life I live

Amy Brown — Wed, 10 Mar 2004 22:41:00 GMT

We've made a couple of decisions in the last few days which sit well with me. Little things, but little things which will amount to big improvements in my life.

First we decided not to renovate the kitchen. We were going to do a pretty sizeable reno, knocking out a wall, changing cabinet doors, new countertops and backsplash, and a new paint job. I would have looked really great, but it was largely cosmetic and would have been in the neighbourhood of $10 000, probably more if you factor in the inevitable delays and fuckups. That's a lot of money for a would-be-nice reno.

We decided to keep the money (most of it coming from my stock options) and put it into paying down our mortgage. That way we'll be able to use it later when we buy a house, which will probably be in much more dire need of renovating than our ten-year-old condo.

Second we decided to set up an "office" for me, with the Windows box and my Palm cradle and the printer all set up and the filing cabinet nearby. This means I'll be able to go back to using my Palm for appointments (because I only use it when I can use the Palm Desktop) and I'll be able to print stuff out and manage the household that much easier. Right now it's a bit chaotic, with Windows on a laptop which drifts about the house, my Palm cradle not hooked up to anything, and the printer just barely working in a corner. It's a pain in the ass.

Finally, I've been doing lots of little spring cleaning things, getting rid of or putting away stuff which doesn't apply any more. Stuff like my music stand, which I used when I was taking voice lessons. I finally folded it up and put it away, which means that I've accepted that I won't be taking voice lessons again for a while, and also that I won't have to clean around it. I've put away our funky fruit stand because we have nowhere to keep it; it was on top of a bookcase but up there we never noticed it so the fruit just rotted. Now I don't have to worry about where to put it. I'm going to put away our wine glasses, which will free up another two feet of book shelves, and I won't have to dust them, nor do I have to think about how we're not really the kind of people who need wine glasses.

It's about getting my physical surroundings in line with the life I actually live, getting rid of things which aren't relevant any more, and making more space, physical and mental, for the things which are.

Bored Now

Amy Brown — Thu, 22 Jan 2004 18:19:00 GMT

Somehow, inexplicably, I have nothing to do. There is no pressing housework, I have no paperwork to do, I can't knit because it takes too much concentration and unbroken blocks of time, I've read and read and read until my eyes are bleeding.

I guess it's not inexplicable. Christmas is over and there isn't another errand-intensive event like that in the forseeable future. More significantly, Delphine now plays by herself for reasonably long stretches of time, so jobs that used to take hours to do in between attending to her, now take a few minutes. My last problem is that this wintery weather is stretching on interminably, and I have nasty cabin fever. I've been hiding inside, only going out for necessities, for weeks now and I'm tired of it.

Fortunately, next week is rich with activities; Monday is choir, Tuesday I'm trying to set up a board games night, Wednesday morning is playgroup, Thursday I'm going to see Ellen and Dexter, and Friday is a baby storytime at the Mount Pleasant library. If that doesn't keep me amused, or at least busy, nothing will.