You Just Haven't Done It Yet...

Anything's possible. That's what good parents tell their children. Our mother -an excellent mother- had her own spin on this maxim. When we would sputter and fret about doing the next frightening thing.... dancing very close to the words "I can't", she would just respond in her no-tolerance-for-nonsense voice, "You just haven't done it yet.

I can not even tell you how very much that sentence annoyed me as a teenager. And yet, I remind myself of its truth at least once a day.

Lately, the task escaping me is home renovation. I've discovered that I find the idea of being a person who renovates her own home more appealing than the actuality of it. I want to have a lovely, cheerful, organized office/studio, for example. I imagine myself working there, struggling sometimes certainly - but with words and concepts and issues, not... THIS. I want to bathe in bubbles in a lovely candlelit bathroom. The reality is considerably less romantic. My kitchen ceiling still looks like it's going to fall on my head.

And yesterday, on a lark, I took a day off from the tasks that loom literally over my head. I went to see an outdoor production of Madama Butterfly and drove around the countryside. And had the what-for scared out of me. I saw a beautiful old absolutely falling-down house. Gorgeous. And it was having an open house. What is it about old houses that inspires the completely ludicrous "I could fix this" feeling in me? And if my house exceeds my abilities, this one would have exceeded my abilities, my mental health, and my bank account in short order.

And the house -with gaping person-size holes in the roof, inhabited by more animals than the zoo, and with standing water on the first floor- was still inhabited by a little old lady. What the HECK? Where is this person's family? Where are the social services? What's the story??? My fertile imagination and my social worker training provided a possible story. Through mental illness, dementia, or merely the force of her will, she no longer sees the house as it is. She sees it as it was. This house was built for leisure -or someone else's work, more accurately. There are servants' rooms, back stairs, buttons for summoning the servants.... Alas, they no longer answer and she's living in a world that used to be.

I am officially terrified. True enough, I "can't" fix my kitchen ceiling. But I hear my mother's voice. I just haven't done it yet. I will not become this sad, sad woman (whom I haven't met and whose story I have fabricated). I will get to work. Right after I go rock climbing with the men in my life ;)

New Garage

It's not here yet, but we have plans. The people door and the car door will switch places, the trim will be white, there will be carriage lights, the garage doors will have windows... and I think those are the only changes. I'm just taking a little break while my bank account recovers, and then we'll get back to work on this project.

And then, I'm finished with big projects for the year. The new furnace and central air will have to wait until next year.

At Least it Leaned to the Left (???)

My big house project for the year is underway. Can you see the problem?



Yeah, it leaned a little bit. And it was being held up by a house jack in the center. And the doors were ugly, and weren't even the fold-able garage doors, like they've made for, oh, about the last 75 years. It was unsafe and ugly, and had no redeeming historical value. It had to go.

I knew the demolition guys were coming this morning, so I acknowledged that I'd seen the garage for the last time. They've been doing preparatory work for days, but the weather has been so rainy, they couldn't actually get the thing done. But the task was scheduled -again- for today, and the weather was lovely. I knew the garage had reached the end of its days. Even so, when the girl-child called me and said that they'd started, I felt a little gasp of fear. This is a HUGE thing to have undertaken. Who do I think I AM? Someone who knows how to do all this???? Who am I kidding?

I'm glad I missed this:










I was breathing into a paper bag at work, as it was. And then I got home and saw this: Okay, they'll come back for their equipment, and they didn't leave a bill. So, I'm thinking they're not done. But it's not as though the view has been improved, exactly.

Next up, pouring a new foundation and pad for the new garage. One step at a time.... the path is the goal....

Pass another brown paper bag, could you?