The Money Pit, Part II

Last night while standing in line at Atlanta Bread Co., I noticed a young woman sitting at a table.

"Doesn't that girl work at Lowe's?" I said.

Clint looked at her. "You're right, I think she does," he said.

Clearly, I have been spending way too much time at Lowe's if I can recognize cashiers in a non-Lowe's setting. This can't be good.

We are still in full-blown renovations but starting to see progress. Almost the entire second floor is painted (except the room over the garage and the master bathroom). We're still in discussion about what to do with those. I've painted a ton of trim and door frames. Clint, who has boundless amounts of energy, will stay up into the wee hours painting the walls.

Today's chores include taking down doors for cleaning and painting and beginning the flooring process. We're hoping to have a significant amount of the second floor done by the end of the weekend. I certainly hope so - it will be nice to have some sense of normalcy.

Simple Pleasures

This morning I brewed coffee in my kitchen.

You're thinking, "OK, no big deal. People do that every morning." But for weeks I've felt homeless. Despite staying with family and friends who are like family, it's just not the same as having your own space. And since we closed on our house more than two weeks, it's been nothing but renovations. Even in my own home, I felt homeless.

Last night, I unpacked several boxes of kitchen items, filling cupboards and drawers with utensils, plates, glasses, cookware, sandwich baggies, dish towels -- the usual mix of kitchen items.

In one of the very last boxes, I found the coffee pot and the coffee grinder. So while the rest of the house still looks like a construction site, the kitchen is starting to look a little more normal. We even moved our patio furniture into the eating area so we would have a place to sit.

So, this morning (I took the day off from work), I sit at my patio table with my laptop on my lap and a view of the spacious backyard. The construction site is at my back and a steaming mug of coffee sits on the table and for a few moments, I'll pretend my house isn't a wreck and life is normal-- all this because this morning I brewed coffee in my kitchen.

The Money Pit, Part I

I have taken a break from the exhausting home renovations process to announce that we are officially living in our new home. I use the term "living" loosely.

We're really living in a construction site with a bed and some clothes. We closed on our house two weeks ago, and in that relatively short period of time, we have:
--Removed the popcorn ceilings (a messy undertaking that only should be done if you don't mind destroying everything).
--Removed ALL carpet and carpet padding (don't even get me started about what you'll find under your carpet pad).
--Removed all drywall from master bedroom. Yes, removed all drywall. It was the only way to remove the granite paint (think sandpaper attached to walls).
--Put in new drywall (sheetrock is heavy).
--Used a power drill. OK, Clint was experienced with the power drill, but this was my first foray into power tools.
--Wore a nail apron (another new experience for me, but I thought I looked cute - like Pamela Anderson when she was the Tool Time girl on Home Improvement)
--Cleaned the entire gross kitchen and put shelf paper in all cabinets.
--Painted pantry.
--Started priming ceilings and walls for paint.

We're making a little progress and falling into bed completely exhausted each night. Stay tuned ...

Who says you can't go home?

Clint and I spent last week in his hometown of Mulberry, Ark. Population: about 1,600. He grew up on a farm, where his parents still raise turkeys, cattle and Yorkshire Terriers. They also have an assortment of other dogs, horses and a lamb. He, of course, loves a trip back to Arkansas where life runs at a considerably slower pace than our everyday lives in Charleston.

I, on the other hand, get a little stir crazy after a couple days and insist on a trip to the mall in Fort Smith (about 25 minutes away) and a White Chocolate Mocha from Starbucks. Ahh, civilization.

While in town, we spent some time just driving around. For a couple of years Clint attended the community college in Fort Smith--now a branch of the University of Arkansas. So we drove by the campus and he pointed out new buildings and talked about how things had changed. We also drove by the place where he used to race remote control cars (now closed). We stopped by a used bookstore (still open!), Snooper's Barn, where Clint spent plenty of time buying used paperbacks as a child.

We even had lunch at the Pizza Parlor, a local pizza joint Clint insisted has the best thin crust pizza with chopped Canadian bacon. The place hadn't changed a bit, he said.

When you move away from your hometown, you tend to miss the little things. And you tend to reminisce about every experience, every detail with a rosy vision clouded with the happy hazy of time. I do the same thing. When I go home to Ohio, I want to eat at my favorite pizza place. I want to drive by Ohio University. I want to shop in my favorite stores. I want to remember "the good 'ol days."

It's tough to go back and see what has changed, so we hang on to those memories that have stayed the same. And if we're comforted by a slice of pizza that's been the same for 20 years, so be it.

You live where?

On our trip to Arkansas Saturday ... our 16-hour trip ... we passed a sign for a town with probably the greatest name ever: Toad Suck.

I couldn't make this up, people. I almost stopped along Interstate 40W in Arkansas to take a picture. I asked Clint if there was any possible way we could make a detour through Toad Suck. I was quickly calculating the number of T-shirts and coffee mugs I would need for friends and co-workers. Unfortunately, it would have been a two-hour (one-way) detour on our already painfully long trip (did I mention it was a 16-hour drive?).

It almost would have been worth it. I may still go to the Web site and order a T-shirt for Toad Suck Daze, a music, food and arts festival.

If you're like me, you just have to know how the town got its name. According to toadsuck.org:

Long ago, steamboats traveled the Arkansas River when the water was at the right depth. When it wasn't, the captains and their crew tied up to wait where the Toad Suck Lock and Dam now spans the river.

While they waited, they refreshed themselves at the local tavern there, to the dismay of the folks living nearby, who said: "They suck on the bottle 'til they swell up like toads." Hence, the name Toad Suck.


That's perfect. You just can't make that up.

Real Estate Trials, Part IV

We finally closed on our house Friday and now we're officially homeless. The buyers were a father and son. The father is the primary owner and the son looks to be about 24. He seemed like an incredibly cocky jerk, and I feel certain the flowers I have so lovingly cared for the last five years will die a painful death in the South Carolina heat.

*Sigh*

But, I can't dwell on things I can't change, so I'll dwell on things I can: like the new house. Come July 19, we'll be doing all sort of home improvements and I can start planting in a new yard. Clint even suggested he might build me a greenhouse next summer and I'm not going to let him forget it.

Unfortunately, we're homeless right now. This week we're visiting Clint's family in Arkansas and then we'll be staying with friends when we return. (Might I add these friends are angels to let two humans and two dogs stay with them along with a ton of junk that wouldn't fit in our storage unit -- thank you!)

I'm just happy to be done with this first phase of moving. Next: closing on new home.

Real Estate Trials, Part III

We have spent a small fortune on boxes, bubble wrap and packing tape. Now, we're renting a storage unit because we can't move into our new house until July 19 and we need to rent a moving truck. We may need a second mortgage to pay for the move to the new house.

AND, the buyer of our house is insisting we pay for all the repairs that showed up in the inspection. Two of them in particular we really shouldn't have to cover (they're nothing major) and initially said we wouldn't.

But the buyer is intimidated by home improvements, his real estate told our real estate agent. Is he kidding? He's buying a house and is intimidated by home improvements. Being a homeowner is nothing but home improvements.

So, a tiny evil piece of me hopes something really big breaks two weeks after he moves in--maybe it will involve a plumber, an electrician and a general contractor. OK, OK, that's probably wrong of me but I can't help it--the profits from the sale of our home are being nickeled and dimed by a plethora of greedy people and all sorts of mysterious closing "fees."