Creative or Crazy: Sometimes It’s a Coin Toss

Tags

beginner art, bible verses for homes, painting, word-art

Victoria sat beside me diligently watching as I put the finishing touches on a baby shower gift for my cousin.  “I wish I could paint like you, Mamma.  I can’t paint at all,” she complained.

“Technically, I’m not painting.  I’m writing.  This is no great skill, sweetie,” I assured her.   I had replicated the Suessian poem Baby, Oh Baby, The Places You’ll Go in the shape of a dinosaur.  I had to write the entire poem in said dino shape four times before I got my spacing and letter size just right.  And even then, some letters were wonky, the word “scrumpulous” folded in on itself inside the brontosaurus’ foot, and I realized too late that I had given him the wrong type of tail. The gift recipients seemed not to notice the flaws immediately, and I was grateful.

But I was also inspired.  Driven.  Hooked.

Victoria and I traipsed to our local craft stores the next night in search of a wreath for our front door, and I suggested we just go “look” at the canvases.  They were on sale.  Half-off.  I left Michael’s with a large grapevine wreath (which aren’t so much grapevine anymore as they are tangles of leaves and twigs.  What’s up with that?) and a 36×48 canvas, labeled “Artist Professional Level 1: Beginner”… mostly because it was cheaper, but also because, really, there’s no sense kidding myself.

That’s the basis of this project, but here’s the history.  I originally set out this summer to make two word-art prints for Dom’s birthday.  One would be lyrics of songs that make me think of him, and the other would be quotes from my favorite love-story books.  I gave each a different design so that they would be similar but not the same, and filled in the background with more corresponding text.  This is the result:

Since I couldn’t work on these prints in Dom’s presence and I was itching to keep drawing and word-arting (making up your own words is a fine art, too, you see), I decided to bring the bible verses forward from within our walls where I wrote them in 2012.  I wanted them all in one place where I could view them, and I wanted them to form a picture.  So I shaped words and verses into a tree design and got this:

But I drew this on poster board, which is totally not standard frame size (who knew?) and therefore all but useless unless I wish to thumb-tack it to my wall or hang it on the fridge.  So I figured with a little perseverance I could re-create the tree on a larger canvas.  And since this is for my enjoyment, I could take as long as I need to get it just right.  So began the process:

This photo was taken about an hour too late, actually.  I should have taken the picture before the darker color was applied to the canvas, the point at which it looked as if Mabel had stuck her nose in yellow paint and sniffed all over the canvas.  The same point at which I sat back on the floor, stared up at the easel and said to myself, “Holy crap…I’m worse at this than I thought I’d be!”

It is at this moment that I feel compelled to beg mercy from the judgments of true artists.  I realize I have no clue what I’m doing when it comes to painting.  Refer once again to the post title, please.

Over the next few nights I dabbled in my art project, adding swirly verses and wondering if there was some way to use more color on the canvas and blend it so that it looked more like sunlight behind the tree.  I determined that for my skill level, there was not.

For the next several weeks (er, months) I worked on it a little at a time.  I took over the upstairs game room, setting up my paints and easel near the window for good light, and indulgently leaving a mess no one had to clean up or look at.  I totally felt like Ally in The Notebook, painting in the room Noah created just for her.  Except that I was fully dressed.

Now, here we are, already in another year, and with the Christmas decorations all put away there is a gaping blank space on my living room wall just waiting for the finished tree.  And tonight, that blank wall is filled with the verses that have carried me through the process of making this house our home.  Of course, it’s only now that I realize my efforts to make the canvas match the wall were too well-coordinated.  The canvas blends right into the wall, making the picture look not nearly as artful as I had hoped.  When I lamented the fade-away quality of my color choices, Dom asked what could be done to correct it.  Ahem… start over?

Maybe next year.

 

 

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Fenced and Free!

Tags

back yard, dogs, driveway, fence building, privacy fence, yard dogs

What began in September has finally, FINALLY been completed: the fence that surrounds our new backyard is finished, putting me and The Mabellini on Cloud Nine!!

So, yeah, it only took us five months to build our fence. (No, we don’t hire out. Har har.) Before the autumn weather kissed Daylight Savings Time goodbye, the only time we had to work on the fence was in the evenings after our real-job workdays. We started on the 150-foot stretch across the back of the property because that was the least obtrusive to the construction crews who were still building our house. And after several weeks of that leg, we finally got to come up the side of the yard to the driveway. But then that’s where we lagged. Dom’s one ER visit and my NINE trips to the eye doctor to resolve the hell that began as wood dust blowing into my eye pretty much brought us to a standstill.

After we moved in, we deliberated about where to connect the fence to the house, and how to shape it around the driveway (which has a lovely inwardly-rounded edge nearest the garage). Dom and I each had ideas of what we wanted, but those ideas didn’t always mesh together. Ultimately, the one thing we could agree on was that we just wanted it finished.

For the most part, building the fence was a family affair. My parents and Dom’s dad spent many weekend mornings working on the fence with us. I daresay we would still have only half of a fence if it weren’t for all of them. Dom and I tackled a small part of the fence alone one blistery cold morning. (I live in Louisiana, folks. “Blistery” is anything below 50 degrees with the wind blowing.) We happened to be working in the soggiest part of the yard that day. I think I lasted 45 minutes before I finally huffed that I was freaking COLD thankyouverymuch, that I had stepped in a mud puddle which soaked through my shoe and into my sock, and I was DONE!! We accomplished so much more when the weather was good and we had help.

Dom, Daddy, Pop and Mom in the home stretch!

As much of a pain as it might have been to plan and build the fence ourselves, the bigger pain was walking Mabel on a leash a thousand times a day, especially in the early morning or late evening when the temperature hovered well below what I consider comfortable. She tolerated the leash as well as could be expected, but she yearned to run free. Mason, on the other hand was never a flight risk. At age 13, the biggest problem for him is having the stamina to walk back to the house after wandering so far out into the yard. Both pups would benefit from a fenced backyard where we no longer had to be concerned for their safety.

“Which way is the door, man??”

As the last picket was being screwed into place, Victoria opened the back door to let Mabel out – without a leash for the first time in nearly two months. Mabel sprung out the door like a horse at the track. She raced as fast as she could back and forth across the yard, kicking up leaves as she dug in to change direction. I swear that dog was smiling the whole time.

Poca Voglia

Tags

home names, little wishes

I’ve always wanted to name my house – ever since the days of my childhood when I would watch Dallas and marvel at the majesty of Southfork.  Of course, I knew I would not likely have anything as vast as a Southfork of my own, but the thought of a place with a name – a distinct identity – was intriguing.

Our old house was warm and friendly, but never quite name-worthy.  The name would come some day when I fulfilled the dream of building my own house.

That day is now.

Any appropriate name would need to be Italian (duh), and so I spent weeks in my “spare” time google-translating phrases that were personal, yet meaningful.  Stately, yet modest.

Weeks, I tell ya.  Weeks.

(By the way, this is exactly why I don’t have a tattoo.  Such a permanent item would need to be, in my estimation, an all-encompassing graphic rendition of my personality, beliefs and ideals.  Its meaning and message would need to stand the test of time.  I mean, really…how would I ever decide on one?)

I also had standards for not only what the name would mean, but for how it sounded when spoken.  It couldn’t be cumbersome.  It needed to sound lyrical.  It needed to roll. Google Translate and that little Italian voice inside my phone had their work cut out for them.

I won’t bore you with all the details of the names I tried and cast aside.  In the end, one name won out because of its meaning and its melody.  Poca Voglia (pronounced POKE-a VOHL-e-yah) means “little wish.”   This house began as a little wish twenty years ago when Dom and I sat in the student center at our university and he drew me an abstract picture on a napkin of the home we would someday build together.It’s probably hard to see on this scanned and faded napkin, but that’s the house in the foreground with a pond in the back.  And a dog.  No house is a home without a dog.  😉

I am full of little wishes.  But I am also full of gratitude and contentment.  Poca Voglia.  Welcome home.

Lessons from Advent: Part One

Tags

Advent, Christmas preparations, God's plan - My pride, home building

I have long held the belief that we are put here on earth to learn to love each other as God loves us.  I also believe that in order to do so, we must look for God in each other.  So it stands to reason, in my mind at least, that each and every personal encounter with each other can bring us closer to God, if we let it.  If we are truly looking for God in each other, then it is not uncommon to recognize Him in our everyday conversations.

And so my beliefs and my attitude have been profoundly shaped recently through this process of building our house.  I have earnestly tried to keep this house just a wee bit “above the earth” – as evidenced by the truckloads of dirt underneath it.  (Just kidding…sort of.)  When we began, it was a project.  Something to do and dream about and plan.  Then we broke ground and it became something to watch grow.    We had waited sixteen years to build a house, while the dream floated somewhere in the back of our minds, waiting for the “perfect” timing.  Living any day on this earth should prove to all of us that there is no such thing as “perfect timing,” so we finally, cautiously moved forward.

As the frame went up, it became something to breathe God into.  I feared that all that waiting and planning and dreaming would crash down around me if I put too much faith in and emphasis on the building itself.  I had to keep my mind in the right place, my creative heart aimed at my own Creator, my hopes pinned to the promise that no matter what happens on this earth the next life is sweeter than I can possibly imagine.   I etched his Word into the frame and the foundation, praying constantly that this earthly home will always point me toward my eternal home.

And then the most amazing thing happened.  This gorgeous house developed before my eyes.  It’s far better than anything I could have planned on my own.  Dom keeps giving me the credit.  While I picked out fixtures and countertops and paint colors, I knew there was something more powerful at work here.  I knew we were being blessed.  And I knew we were first blessed with our builder.

Through five months of building this house, we have taken advice and guidance from our builder, Dominick.  We have weighed options and made decisions together.  We have dug holes, shopped, and painted together.  We have laughed and worried together.  We have talked each other down from the rafters when necessary.  He has sent me to Home Depot more times than I care to count.  (He’s going to read this at some point, and laugh at that!!)  In short, we trust him.  And I think he genuinely enjoys making our home beautiful, even if we do drive him insane.  😉

As Thanksgiving drew near I was admittedly disappointed to learn that we would not be ready to move in as I had hoped.  I had already made December plans for the house, and thought surely I’d be moving in amongst everyone enjoying Thanksgiving Dinner at my in-laws’ next door.  Plus, my quickly-dwindling vacation time at work could be paired with the long weekend and voila!  I’d have a whole week to move!  But alas…

The thought of waiting until sometime in December frayed my nerves and bashed my plans.  It took me more than a few moments to deal with it properly.  What about Christmas decorations?  What about Christmas parties?  What about the tree and the lights and the hot cocoa in front of the fireplace???  WHAT ABOUT MY HOLIDAAAAAAAYYYYYY????!!!

On a mostly subconscious level I have always known that this process really isn’t about me and Christmas lights.  In slowly and begrudgingly letting go of my Christmas plans, I began to see Advent in a new light.  This is our preparation and waiting period – we are waiting for something wonderful, something that fulfills a plan.  And yet, even as big a part of my world as building this house is right now, it is nothing compared to the real meaning of Advent. The preparation of our hearts to receive God’s grace is far more important than the preparation for a Christmas party.

I began to see a larger “God-moment” forming.  As I reflected on my feelings of impatience I saw several parallels: my desire to move things along at a quicker pace paired with situations and plans that I did not know or understand; my disappointment over letting go of my own timeline and letting someone else “drive;” my slow and steady realization that I do not control everything in my world – nor should I.

It all made sense when I just shut up and listened to my own advice: “trust the builder.” This process has gone smoothly for five months with my builder at the wheel.  Why should it be any different here at the end?  It wasn’t until I gave up my own selfish plans that the proverbial light bulb turned on. And then I saw it – the next parallel – the lesson I am to learn from all this and apply to my life in a much broader and more direct way…

Trust the builder.

How many times have I made my own plans and then “life” got in the way – the building of moments that we so often take for granted?  How many times has what I ended up with been so much more amazing than what I had originally planned for myself? How many times does my own Creator have to remind me to trust him?

Trust the builder.

Through my own building experience, God has used Dominick to show me that what is in store for me is so much greater than what I can imagine or what I can plan on my own.  Just as Dominick must take his time in making the house perfect for me and Dom, God takes His time in making us perfect for Him.  It gives me a sense of peace to see Him working on me through other people.  (And, admittedly, it’s a sort of permission to be so messed up.) Patience is crucial – and it comes relatively easy when we really let go and truly – once again – trust the builder.

Moving the Anchor

Part 1: Setting Sail

Let me start by saying there is not a font big or bold enough in the whole wide world to express my excitement here:   WE SOLD THE HOUSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  So many of you have followed our ups and downs with this process.  Your encouragement and prayerful support have been life rafts in a sea of anxiety, and we are grateful to you.

These final, perfect buyers fell in love with the house instantly (the way it’s supposed to happen, thankyouverymuch).  They were genuinely excited and exceptionally reasonable.  Given our previous buyers’ dispositions, this was a long overdue and welcome relief!! They have two young children – a boy and a girl – and the realtor told me that The Mrs. loved the harlequin diamonds I had painted on Victoria’s bedroom wall.  I was so overwhelmed with appreciation for these buyers that I could not wait for them to move in.  Apparently, they couldn’t wait either, because we got a message that said they were ready to close…three weeks early.  Wooo-hooo!!

The four of us dropped by the dear old house the night before closing to tidy up and make sure we hadn’t left any personal items behind.  As soon as we walked in I burst into tears.  Again.  (Somebody check my hormone levels, would ya???)  We said our goodbyes to each room, and then Dom gently urged me back toward the door.  As we all stood together in the kitchen, we huddled up and Dom said a prayer, thanking God for the times we had in that house, good and bad, and for seeing us through it all.  And then we walked out for the last time.  Vic and I cried all the way down the driveway.  We’re such girls.

Now, you know nothing I do happens without some degree of weirdness, so here it is.  After we signed all the papers and were done with the house, I was equally happy for us and our buyers.  But for the next three nights I had vivid dreams about needing to stop by the house for various reasons.  I would wander into either the garage or the back yard or the kitchen and suddenly realize that I was trespassing.  And then I would freeze, just about to be “caught,” and would suddenly wake up.

On the fourth night I had a crazy dream about the new house, in which someone had decorated my kitchen area with large, sprawling, bejeweled ceramic cats.  When I told mom about the horrendous décor in my dream, she offered a bright side: “Hey, look…at least you finally left the old house!”

My friend Jill diagnosed me with Separation Anxiety.  As odd as it sounds, I had to agree.  I am going to miss that house.

Part 2: New Waters

Eight minutes away at our new address, all my cabinets are installed and stained, and the painters are putting the finishing touches on the trim and walls.  It’s looking absolutely fabulous – beyond my wildest dreams.  (No ceramic cats!) I started out saying that this was not going to be my dream home, but that it would be dreamy enough.  As it turns out, it is my dream home after all.  Every time something new is delivered and installed, I stare at it with my jaw open, just waiting for someone to pinch me.  I told my builder the other day that this whole house is more grand than I ever expected, and that I am astounded by the detail and impressiveness of every single thing.  He chuckled and said, “What did you expect?”  Honestly, I don’t know.  I don’t think I even knew what to expect.  What I do know is that I fall in love with my house even more every time I walk into it.

I recently spent about an hour and a half sitting in a lawn chair in my new kitchen, moving the emotional anchor from what is now our past to what will be our future.  Dom thought I’d lost my marbles.  I sat there in the calm, quiet emptiness of partially installed cabinetry and recalled where every bible verse is hidden behind sheetrock, just like I had said I wanted to do.  I imagined the kids doing homework at the kitchen table and the dogs barking in the yard.   I envisioned cool, quiet nights on the patio by a crackling fire and the home filled with family, friends and laughter.  I prayed and thanked God for the joy and ease of building this house.  I know what a blessing a home is, and though, essentially, it is but sticks and cement, it is filled with His word and blessed by His presence.  And though my earthly anchor may set firmly in that structure, I recognize that this peace is possible only with my soul anchored in Him.

Progress Update

It takes me a while to get updates prepared, but I must be on a roll, because I have more pictures from today AND time to upload them!  So here is what things are looking like right now (minus the sun shining…it’s late as I write this!)

First, brick was delivered yesterday.  This is “Southern Antique.”  I picked it because of the neutral coloring, but the name makes me happy too.

Second, sheetrock was delivered today.  A whole bunch of sheetrock! Three rooms are full of it.

And my patio ceiling installation was finished.  We had run out of boards and had to buy more.  The painter will be back to stain the remainder of the ceiling later.

The pad for my front steps was poured today.  Dom informed me tonight that Lady, my in-laws’ dog, put her paws in the cement.  So the pad has puppy prints.  🙂

The windows on the front of the house were framed today.  Shutters and paint to follow the stucco later.

We now have running water.  And the plumbing inspector came by today and gave our pipes the seal of approval.  Yes, that’s hot and cold outdoor faucets.  So Mabel and Mason can take baths year-round! (For those of you who are new to my blog, Mabel and Mason are our dogs.  Don’t call CPS on me, please!)

And finally, the work of our own hands, we have fence posts lining the back of the property.  Running boards and pickets come next.  That is, after we recover from this part of the job.

So there we are – two and a half months in and a whole lotta progress to note.  Onward!!

Excuse Me While I Bare My Ceilings

Tags

ceilings, home building, lighting hardware, rafters, roof shingles, roofing

It’s been a little while since I gave a full-fledged update on the new house.  I don’t think there has yet been a single development that hasn’t thrilled me to my very core.  As the frame went up and the rafters were positioned, the home started taking incredible shape right before our eyes.  Some insulated boards, a little home wrap and a bit of tar paper gave the structure some Little-Engine-That-Could character.

In the midst of the raftering and the structuring, I loved walking through the house and memorizing its bones.  I know it will look completely different when the sheetrock goes in, but for now I love looking up through my ceiling area and seeing the intricacies of the rafters.  (Hey – it’s intricate to me.  I can’t manage to fasten two popsicle sticks together on my own.)  My favorite part of the bones is this portion of the roof’s underbelly as seen over the entry hall from my living room.  It reminds me of a cathedral, and when the evening sun peeks in and reflects off of the insulated boards it looks downright ethereal to me.

Electricians came in and did their thing, giving my rooms and ceilings a little more character with the lighting hardware.

And finally this week the framing crew returned to install the ceiling boards I had selected for the porch and patio ceilings.  I got really excited when I saw this above the front porch:

Tropical Storm/Hurricane Isaac threatened Louisiana right as we were preparing for shingles to go up.  Given that my home sits on good ol’ down-home Louisiana red clay, my builder was very cautious about letting anyone up on my roof with mud on their shoes.  The threat of bad weather meant we waited a few extra days before the shingles were added.  If you ask me, it was totally worth the wait.

So you see, things are definitely “looking up.”  We’ll be plugging along until the next update.

Today’s Update

It’s a house now! Shingles were delivered yesterday. Now if Isaac will just stay out of the way…

Sticks and Starbucks

Tags

home building, paint colors, Starbucks, stucco

This week the official framing of the house began.  Now we can start to see slight room definition.  While placement of the rooms is now clear, relational size of them still eludes us.  But that’s okay – we got us some sticks!!

One afternoon I drove out to the site via a different access road.  As I drove over the interstate overpass I glanced in the general direction of my house.  All I could see were trees and studs.  I mean, I could really see my not-even-half-constructed house through all those trees!!  My hand flew to my mouth and I think I actually said, “Holy crap!  That’s my house!” Out loud.  It just looked so…big.

Someone please remind me of that if I ever whine about how small it is.  Or better yet, just give me a good ol’ Gibbs head slap.  I’ll totally deserve it.

It all feels so very real now.  The dream is starting to take some actual physical shape.  We even have stairs already!!

As the frame started to come together and I began to actually envision the outside of the home in slightly more concrete pictures (haha – get it? Concrete? Oh, nevermind…) I chastised myself for not yet settling on a stucco color for the front of the house.  I already chucked the whole idea of picking my own interior color, and just uploaded a pic of paint samples to my Facebook timeline and let my friends pick the wall color.  (It was a rough day and I was taxed!)

Anyhoo, I was happily riding along in the passenger seat of my Dad’s car when we pulled into a Starbucks location that I had all but forgotten.  While sitting in the drive-thru it finally hit me: I LOVE the color of the building.  It’s a dark latte color, or maybe a…mocha frap?

I’m here all week, folks. 

I emailed Starbucks’ corporate offices to ask them if they could possibly research their files and tell me what color was used on that particular building because I wanted to duplicate it on my house.  They kindly replied that they could NOT tell me the color because it would violate the confidentiality agreements they have with their contractors.

Okaaaaayyy…

I assured them that I am not above standing outside the coffee-house with a stack of Sherwin Williams paint swatches – which I have already done (twice).  But thanks to a Starbucks-loving Sherwin Williams employee and another who thought the confidentiality excuse was a load of bull, I was able to learn that the exact color is SW7695, Mesa Tan.

So the next time you have a latte, remember the crazy chick in Louisiana who wants her house to look like your coffee.  🙂

Progress

Let’s see – the last house post was on Day 1, which was followed by loads and loads (and more loads) of dirt, followed by a solid week of rain, and finally – you guessed it – more dirt.  It wasn’t until this week that progress was really evident.  I’ll give you a run-down of the past ten days:

Once we had enough dirt, the foundation was framed:

Last Saturday Dominick (our builder), Dom, and my Father-in-law built the pad for the well-house.  Pops worked a little too hard for 8 hours in that 111-degree heat index, and ended up in the ER for heat exhaustion.  He’s good as new now, but taking it a little easier outside.  😉

Tuesday morning I traipsed through all that expensive dirt before heading to the office.  Note to self: Don’t do that in heels.  Ever Again.

Once the foundation frame was up, the plumber came out to do his thing.  Woo-hoo!  We have pipes!

Through all this, Victoria is thoroughly enjoying the piles of expensive dirt.  She’s Top of the Heap!

Finally, the pad was ready… dirt was divided for the beams, rebar was set in place, plumbing and electrical holes were secured.  It looked really small, but we have been assured that’s normal by other people who have built homes.  I really couldn’t imagine how everything was supposed to fit into this space.

And then, today finally arrived.  Cement Day!!!  The guys arrived at 5:30 AM (bless them!) and the trucks arrived fifteen minutes later to begin pouring.  By the time I got there at lunch, we had a slab!

There’s no turning back now!! 🙂