[Home][Work]

Things have been really busy around here for the last few months. The beginning of the year generated the idea that we might like to leave this place someday and that brought the realization that leaving here would likely mean selling this home. Which then lit a proverbial fire under our asses to get to work on all the half-finished, undone projects. I say proverbial fire under ass because things have been coming along but at a bit of a snail's pace. Home DIY moves at a diffrent rate once two little people and their daily needs are factored in.

The interior walls desperately needed painting to cover the years of marks and bangs and scratches, the doors needed painting and new door trim, the baseboards had to come out to accomodate the new wider trim, the walls needed patching and sanding ... etc etc. Every home project seems to spawn another portal to more projects which spin about and cause lots of interesting piles of stuff that small children probably should not be touching but they do anyway.

Side note :: Tim has always exposed the boys to his work because his shop is here at home. They are pretty confortable with the whole 'we make things' but yesterday took the cake. Owen took Tim's full size drill and disassembled his small IKEA picnic table. He told me it was because the table was 'rude' (I think he meant dirty). Man, that kid. It now needs to be sanded and reassembled. Think we should let him try the orbital sander? I jest.

So, as of today, the walls/trim/base/wine cabinet/boy's new storage and two walls in our bedroom are finished. It took awhile.




The thing is, we lived with the undone for years; a hole in the drywall here or a gap where trim should have hidden door frame there. It became the norm. And now that it is done, all those parts of the sum ... well, I can barely see it. Which I think is the point. One sees the flaws easier than the completion. I know what we have done, the sweat equity put in. But when friends gather on Saturday for the boys' bday I am pretty sure they will glance about and maybe comment but not keel over from the changes. They do not come here for the way our Home appears. They come because of the food. Oh, and because they love us.



Don't get me wrong ... I love that we have done what we can up to this point. I love my vibrant red wall, the crisp clean white trim, the walls free of toddler scribble and funk. It feels fresh and Spring-like.

There is so much more to do, most of which falls on Tim's very capable shoulders. There are trestle legs for the solid wood table top, mantle and benches, front door refurbishing. And that does not even touch on the exterior. But it is only April, 4 months out of our newest resolution and I think we are making change. It may be at a slower pace than pre-children. It may not result in leaving this house because I fall more in love with it as we fix it up bit by bit. Whatever it is, it sure feels good.



I promise a backyard garden shoot at some point this Spring. The backyard is where it is AT right now. man, I love growing things. Now, off to finish cleaning paint drips off wood floors prior to Saturday's party.

Gone and Back

My parents were away for a week or so, North to see their other children. They take the trip as often as they can and I always find it occurs at just the right time. I will not lie, living in a multi-generational home has its up and down trajectories. There is a lot of compromise and sometimes misunderstandings or miscommunication. There is also a lot of extra love and support and hands so I tend to just shrug and try to get on with stuff even when it is hard.

But I have to admit I do love the weeks when we are on our own, the immediacy of the little family we are apparent and present daily. We do not do things differently but there is a different feel to it. A subtle difference in the rhythm of the household. And so we embrace those days, juggle responsibilities of work and home a little bit more and walk around naked a lot. Uh, that last one is a lie. I never walk around naked, ever. Not even when I am alone. Just not my thing.

The other side is that just when Tim and I start to feel the strain of doing this family thing on our own, when we have passed them off to each other and soothed one too many bumps and freak outs, just when it starts to get old ... well, the P's come home. And then there is that blissful morning when Tim and I snuggle in bed until 8 because the boys are in Omi and Opa's room having brekky and watching a show or reading a book and our world is still for a few moments.

This time they came home with my baby sister in tow along with her stellar man. A long weekend was in order as she had yet to meet her new niece. It prompted a weekend of family gathering, tracking down the Kogi bbq truck for mind blowing food, an impromptu museum tour of the nearby BMW car collection

Then the farmer's market and too much food at dinner. Family time.



It was a loud and fun and funny weekend and the rain did not dampen anything. Instead it allowed her to bake with my big boys and snuggle long hours with sweet sweet Havana.

Em and Michael each had a chance to the bedtime routine with the boys which is crazy but a must-have experience right now due to hilarious bedtime yarns and shadow puppet play.

These days reminds me that yes, it can be tough at times to juggle the sheer amount of people we number as a family. There is always some form of chaos and a little tension here and there. Old roles are always easy to fall into but it seems to happen less and less as we all realize that we can be grown ups.



These are the times when I realize that this is it. That there is no other bliss to seek. Goals are nice, ideas are grand and dreams are necessary. But where there is LOVE, so so much love, then you found it. Unconditional love given with as little conditions as possible ... well, then you are really living.

It is no wonder the heart of my dreams to move North is to land us closer to the units that have broken off and fled Southern California. Because as they head North, they take large parts of my heart with them and I am not sure I can resolve to stay that way for too much longer.

Especially not with a new Northern niece and nephew on the way. More on that later ...


And you, Memmers? I love you and cannot wait to see what the next year brings you. Basitas form your big sister.

Home. Home? Home.

Yesterday we helped our best friends move. They are moving from an adorable cottage in the high Foothills to an adorable cottage in the small downtown area. We came by to pick up their oven (yes, the stove saga continues) and stayed to help with box moving and for moral support. As the movers slowly cleared the house and basement of its contents we talked and had a beer and lugged tote boxes into waiting piles. The boys played quietly in the newly vacant rooms and corners and it made me realize we likely never be inside this home again. No more warm dinners in her red kitchen, I would never pee in the odd corner bathroom with its original wall radiator, no late nights on the patio, sipping wine and talking in the fresh almost mountain air.


In the past I have lived in an old tenement apartment in NY, a Victorian home that was once a brothel in Portland, an old adobe home built in the 20's.

They all had odd angles and old features and many previous residents. I slept in those homes, sheltered and warm, made meals for friends and spent days and days of my life calling them Home with a capital H. Yesterday was a reminder of the transience of Home, a realization that there is very likely other warm bodies eating and sleeping where I once did, living there right now today.

We have decided to spend the next 10 months tinkering with this home we now have. We will shed and tweak and paint and add new trim and molding and a deck and and and. We planned on doing all of these things before we thought we might move but it is nice to have a push. The often discussed wine cabinet is on its way, the paint colors picked.


I shudder a little when I think of the sheer amount of stuff our friends had to box and move yesterday and I know when we do move my frustration with the sheer amount of stuff we have will mirror hers. It made me resolve to try to do a monthly clean and purge so that down the line when the day does come, the pain of collecting and relocating might be just a bit less.

Sometimes I feel overwhelmed by the logistics of what we wish to do; sell, relocate, buy. It seems impossible; to leave this home, to find the right place and buy it before another, to make it work. Dreaming is scary.

I explained it like this to my Momma the other day :: There is nothing terribly wrong with where we live now; it has beautiful mountains and our home makes me happy and our wonderful friends live here. But we found where we, Tim and I, want to grow old. We found the place that speaks to Us and it happens to be hundreds of miles closer to my siblings and at the base of the most beautiful mountain lake in the world and a place where we can afford land. And that makes Dreaming good.


So for now it is just a step by step process. Baby steps to the painted walls, baby steps to the new front doors, baby steps. I will just have to have faith in that. And the friend that moved? Well, now I can visit her in her new cottage home miles closer to us and we can scheme together just how to make this move North work because they have decided they are coming with us.

Tidbits

Thought I would share a few fun things as I try to get back on the blogging horse.

Patchwork. I started this a long time ago, called it my Summertime Pretty Patchwork quilt to be. All those squares became a little overwelming so I put it away. After finishing the boys' quilt, all of a sudden, it seemed doable. So out it came. Happy to say the quilt top is almost there and I have a great thrifted vintage sheet for the backing so a nice Summer time quilt may actually be on the bed by Spring.


365. It continues to make me happy. Happy happy happy. I forgot how great it is to takes pictures. I also realize I see the world in saturated technicolor. No matter what, I can't seem to edit the color that seeps into almost every frame.


Painting. The house is getting a makeover slowly but surely. I spent a few days with pots of sample paint, swatching over every wall and hall and surface. The paint is mixed and wall prep is on its way and now we just have to remain vigilant and watch the ruffians. Today I found they had lugged a gallon into the house, had my fine new Purdy brush out and were in the process of puzzling out how to use the paint key that the folks at Home Depot gave them for being such great fellows at the paint counter. (Not all the colors are going on the wall, just the grey and red and the rest of the place will stay in the Navajo white color scheme).


Favorite new app ever. ToonPaint. Take any photo and convert it into comic greatness. This is perfect for two little boys obsessed with Superman, Batman and Spidey.



(FYI : I don't think Mace is intentionally giving us the finger, he prefers his middle digit for pointing and such. Certainly makes him look too cool for school though.)

Simple Gift

There has been an onslaught of children's birthdays in our lives and that means the need for something to bring to the birthday parties. I have really wanted to stay true to the idea that we need to give less and use what is on hand ... plus I am obsessed with chalk lately which led to a really great birthday gift idea.


This is really just a piece of plywood that Tim cut down to placemat size and rounded off the edges, then I primed it and coated it with three layers of chalkboard paint. The end product is a cute child-sized board ready for any little person's hands. They were a huge hit with the boys and the adults, people scribbling away on them daily. I made extra and was glad for it when the party rounds hit.


They are easy to give with a box of chalk taped to the board (super cute washi tape, I think it is called). There is no need for wrapping or a card as you can write the message directly on the present. The only thing I would change next time is to add a little block with felt for erasing. Otherwise, good to go.


I love that it is home made and holds to the ideas and ideals we are trying to keep present. It is impossible to show up to a party with nothing, that just seems too rude, but I hesitate to go out and contribute to the ever growing pile of discarded toys. This is such a nice way to say 'We love you, now go write something down'.

Speaking of chalkboards, I finally went and finished the wing wall in our kitchen, sanded it down smooth after my magnet paint debacle of over a year ago, then coated it with more chalkboard paint.

I love it and have been using it heavily for daily quote inspiration, list making and boy scribbling. Yay for finally completed projects. More to come.

My fave quote so far ""If I had 8 hours to chop down a tree, I'd spend 6 sharpening my axe."
Abe Lincoln

House Opened

We held our annual Open House early this year. My plan was to avoid the nuttiness of house prep plus Christmas countdown by scheduling it early. Last year I was in the midst of cleaning when folks starting showing up but it was still fun. This year I knew I wanted to try to find some time to actually spend with my lovely friends and family. Well, that did happen. A little bit.

Sure, 2/3rds of it I was doing something, whether it was rolling lumpias or searching in vain for that beer I just put down right there, but all in all it was a wonderful Open House.

I have insisted on the tradition since we bought this house, this childhood home of mine. We do not practice a religious holiday any more but I realized the why of the Open House just this year. While I was growing up, my family participated in the Catholic church quite a bit. I was raised with the tradition of Advent which in our Church consisted of 4 families choosing each other and spending the four Sundays before the holiday of Christmas gathering at each residence. We would come together after mass, Advent booklet in hand, read through the book and discuss the miraculous event to come... and then eat. And eat. And eat.


I've known this girl since she was born. She still hates the camera
There was always some type of magic in it for me. Wondering which families would group with us. Then wondering what food they would have on their turn. Exploring some other families space (I was nosy even then). It was exciting and a fitting way to slowly prepare for what then was a holiday much more about the birth of a baby then the stuff under the tree.


Havana, my sister in law and her mama

Although we do not practice the religious aspect now, I still find myself clinging to the desire to slowly invite the celebration that is Christmas into our lives. And I realize I crave that gathering of families. It is why I open our doors every year, clean house, make the laborious lumpia (which will blow your socks off, but takes a team effort to create). It fills me up and makes this time seem much more about family than consuming. Well, it still is about consuming, just in a food way, not a stuff way.

I think next year might actually be our last in this house, in this area, in fact.


It made the party seem even sweeter, the idea that next year could see a goodbye to so many of the people that all live so close. It makes it bittersweet and I think come November of next year, I might start canvassing the friends and family and find three others that want to open their home and have us, this community that we are, come together.


Here is to home, hearth and happiness.

They Might be Giants

It struck me that someday my children will be giants. Some days it seems that they already are.


I held my niece yesterday; 2 days old, 3 pounds bigger than Mason on the day he was born. She felt beyond fragile and her miniature limbs were so delicate and unnatural looking to me. And yet there was that part that recalls marveling over the tininess of their nails and joints and veins. I came home to the boys, reading library books before bed and telling us all about this matter or that matter.


They run now with total confidence, no stutter to their steps. They string together long sentences, convoluted stories full of stutters and vigor. They create from their minds and remind us of events and recall in the morning that they have a planned date with their Grandpa Jim and their excitement knows no bounds.


I love this age, three point five. Everything is so full of meaning and joy. The inevitable period of why? is actually fun (up to a point, of course). The other day we walked in the stroller at twilight and they watched the Moon follow us and could not figure out why it would do that. Then we walked toward it and Mace panicked as he thought it was falling on us. Do you remember when you were young and you thought the same? I recall being in the car and watching the Moon through the window glass, amazed that I was important enough to be followed by a celestial body.


We hiked the other night, up in the hills above our home. It is a completely familiar spot, we know every turn and climb. Over the years we have taken it by foot, bike and Bob stroller. This time the boys hiked 70% of it, running up the fire road and switchback with such gusto. This from Mace, who makes us carry him after a half a city block of walking. I realized they know it as well as Tim and I, that they recognize it as part of Home. We talked about rattlesnakes and stinkbugs and the rare tarantula sighting. I recalled the first time they took this switchback on their toddler feet.


There is no way to deny their boyhood. I don't want to. I am enamored of this age though my spine still shudders at the inevitable whining and rigidity that comes as part of three. I like my kids. That is truly a relief as I have never been a big fan of kids in general.

They will be giant to me some day. But for right now I think I will savor them just as they are.

If Walls Could Talk

If our living room walls could talk they would tell you of the eternal jumble of stuff, carefully edited from evidence with framing and shallow depth of field. A jumble that re-emerges moments after it is cleared; an onus like Sisyphus rolling his ball.

If my newly declared *office* walls could talk they would tell you how happy they are with a generously donated desk, large enough to house all the accouterments of working from home. Glad for the relief their owner feels at the sheer beauty of a space to herself (and a door with a lock).

If the hall bathroom walls could speak they would tell you that the toilet desperately needs scrubbing.

If the walls that house the sons' of the home could talk they would boast of the honor of guarding small sweaty boys that dream sleep under their protection all night, every night.

If the kitchen walls could talk they would rave about the wonderful food that they host... then rant about the dirty windows and the non-functioning stove that can only broil things.

If the walls of his wood shop could talk they would tell you of vigilant organization, the sultry smell of tung oil and wood and hope. So much hope.

If my shower walls could talk they would marvel at the delight of a warm evening shower when 3 days ago it would have been ludicrous in the 100 degree heat. Then they would marvel at the unkind thoughts their humans have for their unclad bodies, bodies that house them and harmonize them with such loyalty.

Our bedroom walls do not talk here ... the only thing they will say is that they are glad their residents have decided to reclaim said walls from boy snack crumbs and hemorrhaging piles of laundry. Glad indeed.


Home = Heart = Love = Me.

Spring :: Closet Love

Just wanted you all to know that I am thankful for the responses you gave to my last post. I am always so hesitant to write out some of those types of thoughts. I can write endlessly about the things the kids do or the things that I create, but throw an opinion in there and I start to feel clumsy with my words. And shy. It took me quite a few minutes to hit publish and there was almost a delete...and it is not like I was railing against the system in any huge way. I don't really fancy myself a writer, maybe it is better to call me 'one who documents', but it is nice to know when I want to throw something out there, you, my people, are willing to read it. So thanks.

And now back to regularly scheduled programming. I have been meaning to write up about my newly organized craft space. There was a lesson in the Mondo course about clearing. When things get stuck, it is time to do a clearing. Clearings can be digging through a dark closet, a stack of forgotten piles, a sweep of the floor. In my case this clearing was all three. Things in our common living space had reached epic bad proportions with fabric piles everywhere, cut and uncut, started and unfinished. It was ugly.

It was hard to live with. And did I mention it was ugly? Hard to be inspired to do anything when the space was so jumbled.

For years I have been meaning to revamp a small hall closet, but too many ideas swamped any actions.

Finally, I decided on a plan :: simple straight shelves running the length. Tim was able to find scrap at the shop and I covered them with a roll of positionable Contact paper. Two shelves had nice cherry veneer, so those were left as is. I gathered all of the fabric floating around and used 6 or 7 clear 1$ boxes to sort and stash. Cheap magazine holders hold patterns and magazines. And within a few afternoons, I finally had a usable and workable space. Total cost roughly in the 25$ range.





The difference it has made has been unbelievable. I have had people ask me before how it is that I get some of this stuff done. Most of my productivity can be attributed to the plethora of adult hands I have available in the home. But some is definitely due to accessible craft space.



My machine is always out and now, my projects are always sorted. I can grab, iron, seam, get up and wrestle two boys apart, sit down and do a bit more, etc. Part of what I love is that they watch and actively participate in the things I love to do. Owen has become an expert at pushing the foot pedal when I am chain piecing and Mace can call a Pinwheel quilt square when he sees one. They may not dream of being sewers, but I have a feeling they are going to know how if that skill is ever needed.

The last month has really allowed us some time to focus on Home, organizing and creating spaces that make us feel like singing. This process has taken years and is far from complete, but, man, does it feel good to see corners of my home cleared of piles and piles of projects. Another huge plus, something I thought we would never really see through, was the completion of Tim"s wood shop in the garage. Just a few months back the garage was a 'scary' space, with little access. The bones were all there; cabinets and equipment, but we were not utilizing any of it. Then a few weeks back I arrived home, parked in the driveway and heard the boys through our garage door. They sounded as if they were having a blast. I walked into the garage and had to rub my disbelieving eyes. It was immaculate; table saw open, tools organized, all stray item and giant holiday storage boxes taken up to the attic. It was surreal.

And now Tim too has a workable space where he can build and create and finish the house (ahem, hem). And I have taken full advantage of that spread of table and used it too.


I guess when Spring comes, clearing follows. It feels good to have found the energy and drive to finish these projects. Next up...the disaster area we call a bedroom. Hmmmm, me thinks his working table saw is going to come in really handy at helping with that big hot mess.

And for full disclosure :: Sure, there is always a little bit of a mess somewhere. It would not be Home without it, right?



And so I ask you what part of your lives or Home could use a clearing these days? Sometimes it is simple, sometimes things need extensive damage control. But the end result is so worthwhile.

Happy Spring to you all!

A Christmas Loved

I give fair warning that this is going to be a picture heavy post for those family unable to be with us this year, (Hi, Gramma Mona).

It was such a lovely holiday with all the requisite last minute shopping (done by Tim, bless that man) and last minute making. I tried my hand at homemade almond roca (with Andes mint chocolate melted on top), finally rolled out the gingerbread dough I mixed early last week (the cookies might have tasted better for the wait) and almost finished my home sewn gifts (there were a few given yesterday that were held together by straight pins and missing buttons).





This Christmas Eve we stayed close to home, using the time to play and prep and not take ourselves too seriously. I love that Christmas in our home is about the people gathering, dropping in and out and tinkering and eating and hastily wrapping presents until the wee hours. Tim actually told me that his favorite part of Christmas is the Eve when he does all his shopping and wrapping. Funny that I never knew that before yesterday. And, yes, I will hold him to it for all the years to come. He was invigorated by the quick forays into the crazy stores, I was by the homey tasks and it all seemed to come together as it should.






And we had a Christmas Eve visitor, but O did not quite make it long enough to see him.





Our Christmas morning is deeply steeped in a tradition, that of meeting our local Santa Claus out on the chilly morning street. He rides by on the shiny fire truck, waving as the handsome firemen hand out bags of unsalted peanuts and candy. We have done this since we moved into this home when I was five. The tradition part comes in with our extreme hyper-vigilance in waiting, we gather outside the minute we hear a distant fire truck, wait with hot coffee and cold hands, realize he is not anywhere near, start back inside, think we hear the sirens, turn around, go back, turn around. I think we do it because it makes it more fun. I know Grandpa Jim thought we were looped, and laughed right along with us when Santa finally came.






The presents were given and I am really glad we did not get the boys anything much because all the aunts and uncles and grandfolks ignored our entreaties to limit the toys and literally showered the boys with stuff. All really cool, non-batttery operated stuff, but WOW, those kids are set FOREVER. Not one person can pass up and hobby horse and a tool set, right? Mason's favorite, the trash truck with trash can included. Owen's...his new two wheeler bike. That he rode around the park without much help. That kid is unstoppable.






My favorite part of the day is always the family hike where we load up and head out. I love the bluebird sky and crisp air and long talks and running kids and sleeping kids. It just feels so right to celebrate the holiday in this way, honoring what we love and who we love. There was a lot of rides hitched and a little knitting time in order to finish a very last minute gift. The best part is that the gift may not be much needed as we found out a cousin is no longer being deployed.








And we actually found just the right bench to prop up the camera for a group shot (only one missing is my big brother and his wife).

The boys slept too little, ate too much candy, have so many new and very stimulating things (yeah, yeah, toys...just so hard to say it when we were aiming so low, you know?). The spirit of the season embraced us all. And it was a good day, a very very good holiday indeed.

Happy Holidays to you. However it came and went, I hope you found delight and magic in the small spaces and large surprises. Sending love and hopefully a few yearly recaps into this place.