what can chase away the blues?

Yesterday, Todd and I received a care package from The Princess Bakery out of Chattanooga. It was filled with deliciousness: different kinds of cookies, muffins, and blonde brownies (my favorite--I swear those brownies are manna from heaven.) Everything was completely divine, and it was definitely the highlight of my week.

So where is this Princess Bakery located? Well, it operates out of a place known as MaMaw's House, and it is run by two adorable young ladies:(this is a scanned image of the card that was included with the package--as you can tell, they are quite serious about their work.)

It seems that the girls had heard that their Aunt TT and Uncle Todd had a stressful couple of weeks, so they decided to send a little cheer our way. I mean, seriously, what better way is there to deal with stress than to throw cookies at it? Especially if those cookies have been homemade with love--and probably lots of giggles.

I'm not even going to tell you how much of that box we were able to polish off in just one night.

Thanks, sweet girls!

and how was your weekend?

The quality of writing in this post probably won't be very good (not that it is usually stellar anyway), because I'm having trouble even putting words together today.

Let's just look at a few elements of my weekend, shall we?

* The drywall guy, Fred, stood us up again (yes, for the second time) this weekend, so we still don't have completed walls in the bathroom.

* I made about 5 trips a day to Home Depot, Lowes, etc. to purchase things, and then take them back when they didn't work, and then buy new ones, and then take those back when they didn't work---because apparently, ABSOLUTELY NOTHING can just be easy, especially not when it has to do with this house.

* If you've seen the house (or pictures), you know that the front door is beautiful, and it has a lovely large stained-glass style window. Well, last night while we were sitting on the front porch, the dogs started barking inside, and Todd went to bang on the window to make them hush--and as soon as his fist hit that beautiful glass window...KERACK! Shattered.

Ahhh...but that's not even the kicker. Wait til you hear this next part.

* We met the previous owners of the house yesterday, because they were back on the street visiting some of their old neighbors. We started talking to them about the house, and I mentioned that our next project was going to be the kitchen and laundry room addition. And she says, "Yes, that used to be a porch--but something had happened, and the people that were the previous owners decided to close it in." And I said, "Oh yeah, there was a kitchen fire, right?"--because that's what the next door neighbor had told me. And she looked at me kind of funny and said, "Well, something happened..." So I press her on it, and she finally says, "Someone was murdered in the house."

I'll give you a second to let that soak in.

So she tells me the story...about how an elderly black lady had lived there, and someone had cut into the house through the porch and killed her...and after her death, the family decided to enclose the porch. And as she is telling me the story, she says, "I knew that something must have happened because of the issues I was having. None of the neighbors wanted to tell me what happened, but I finally got the story." So I stupidly ask, "What issues were you having?" And she responds, "I would see her in the house."

Great. So if you are keeping track, in addition to living with fleas and termites and spiders, I'm also sharing my home with an older black woman who doesn't realize that she isn't living there anymore.

Can I move back now?

Please?

progress

Look! We have walls...



And then, there was tile...


Progress makes my heart happy.

noises off

One thing that this moving/renovating/exterminating process has taught me is that I don't deal well with disarray. With every single move I have ever made in the past, all of the boxes have been unpacked and everything put away within 48 hours of returning the moving truck. That is just how I operate. Call me anal, call me a control/clean freak, slap an OCD sticker on my forehead...label me as you will.

It's this simple: when my house is out of order, my mind is out of order.

And I can tell it has been really bad this past week, because there have been so many times that I have been driving along in my car when, all of a sudden, I realize that the radio is turned down, and I have been driving in silence the whole time. But the noise in my head was so loud--the thoughts racing so quickly and the anxieties swirling so furiously--that I didn't even realize it was completely quiet around me.

There are a lot of things I can deal with--a lot of stressors that don't bother me much--but I am discovering that home-stress affects me deeply. I NEED for my house to be a haven. A clean, orderly, comfortable, anxiety-free haven. I want home to be a place where I can drop my worries outside the door and relax--not pick up a whole new bundle of worries. And when my home doesn't feel like that haven, I am thrown out of whack.

So if I seem off to you-- if I appear to be down or pensive or discombobulated or just plain crazy--you know why.

And if I'm quiet, I don't mean to be--I'm just trying to make sense of all the noises in my head.

please excuse the mess

So we moved into the new house on Monday, and I can't believe it is only Thursday, because as hard as we've been working, it feels like we have been there a month. Amid fighting fleas and tackling termites, we have managed to get about 80% of the boxes unpacked, and Todd has already begun the renovation of the bathroom.

Unfortunately, I didn't manage to get any "before" shots prior to Todd jumping into the project, so if you didn't get to see it in person, just imagine that walls used to be here-- except that they were all moldy and mildewy and basically falling apart and crumbling into the shower.

Here's the demo progress...

Taking it all down to the studs

Wall where the sink used to live

A wide view

I love that, in this shot, you can see Todd's "Axe" bath sponge hanging from the shower head (he is still determinedly using the shower--I am opting to utilize the facilities at the Y.)

I'm calling this series "The (re)Making of Mansfield Manor." Stay tuned for more updates.

sweet home sunnymeade

Dear newest homeowner of 1217 Sunnymeade:

Although we've never met, and we only know each other through scribbled signatures on contracts, I wanted to share with you some information about the house you are buying.

I know it seems a simple house--just some bricks and plaster with a little wiring and plumbing woven throughout--but it is a special place. I don't know very much about the history of the home, but I know that in the last four years I have grown to love this house more than any other house I have lived in.

The first time that I looked at the house with my realtor, I fell in love. I put in an offer immediately, but unfortunately so did someone else, and their offer was accepted over mine. So I kept looking, but I continued to compare everything I saw to Sunnymeade, and nothing else could hold a candle. Luckily, the other contract fell through after a couple of weeks, and I got a second chance. Their misfortune was my blessing, and I closed on the house in April 2005.

When I first bought her, she was rather plain. The previous owner had done some renovation work, but had painted all of the walls white and all of the trim yellow. Four years later, I still can't understand why that ever seemed like a good idea. So, my first project was infusing the house with color. I had lived in apartments for a few years, and I was so tired of beige and white walls that I vowed I would paint every single wall in my new home with color. And I did.

Before:


After:


Although your home inspection revealed a laundry list of little things that needed to be fixed, I can assure you that she is a sound home. A true brick house. She is an older model, showing some signs of wear and tear, but her foundation is firm. I always pay attention to the energy of a house, and I can tell you that she has a happy soul. I've always felt safe here--even when I was living alone.

One thing you might not discover immediately is that you have amazing neighbors. Alma, the elderly lady next door, is a watchdog. She once almost called the police on my ex-boyfriend, because he locked himself out of the house and she saw him climbing in one of the windows. She is hard of hearing, so she won't understand a word you say, but she will happily talk to you. Just don't tell her family that she comes out on the side porch for cigarettes.

Definitely go to the Hargrove brother's Labor Day party. My first year on Sunnymeade, I received the party flyer in my mailbox, and I decided to check it out. I am so glad that I did. It's a great party and a fabulous way to meet all of your neighbors. (Even though we are moving, I still plan to show up this year.) The Hargroves are good people, and they will make sure that you feel welcome on the street. I am going to miss my neighbors. Terribly.


Since living on Sunnymeade, I have done a few updates on the house. We ripped off the ugly white vinyl shutters, and Todd helped me build the new wooden shutters. The pantry in the kitchen is also Todd's handiwork--it was one of his Christmas presents to me (being married to a carpenter definitely has its privileges!) If I could rip that pantry out and take it with me, I totally would. It is a work of art, made with love, and I adore it.


The backyard used to be enclosed by a chain link fence, but our dog Tucker could jump it as easily as an Olympic track athlete could clear a hurdle, so we ripped it out last summer and built the wood fence. Many of our friends and neighbors pitched in on the project. It was a labor of love, and my friend Haley can attest that it is sound, because I personally checked it out with my face (which explains just one of the inside jokes you'll find scribbled on the chalkboard walls in the bathroom.) We specifically built the fence very tall with the "pretty side" in so that Tucker couldn't jump it. He can still jump it. But as long as you don't have a crazy-ass dog, it should suffice just fine. (Tucker also had the distinction of being the "loudest dog in the neighborhood"--so the neighbors probably won't miss him quite so much.)


I also wish that I could take the landscaping with me, as we just planted everything last summer and have only had a year to enjoy it. I was afraid that many of the plants wouldn't survive the intense heat last summer, but they pulled through and look amazing. Even the oak tree in the back yard that I bought for $5 and the dogs half destroyed is blooming. There must be some magic dirt in that yard.

Just a few of the things that have happened while I lived on Sunnymeade:

I met and fell in love with my husband (we almost held a luau-themed wedding in the backyard, but decided to elope instead. On a side note, I have a lot of luau supplies if you should need them).

We adopted Tucker. Apparently, that didn't make our lives crazy enough, because a year later, we adopted Levi. You can blame them for all of the dog hair, which I am sure you will continue to find in corners and crevices for years to come.

We hosted numerous dinner parties, brunches, game nights, cookouts, and hang-outs.

We entertained multiple nieces and nephews, and entertained the idea of having our own children (part of the reason for our move).

A few other random notes of interest about the house:

If you ever decide to plant a garden, don't put it in the back left-hand corner of the yard. The black walnut tree's roots emit some sort of chemical into the ground that inhibits the growth of vegetables. We found that out the hard way.

The corner between the arches is a great place for a Christmas tree, and you can see the lights through the windows on the front door.

Speaking of the windows on the front door--dogs love them. It provides a perfect lookout, so they can make sure you know if someone is coming.


Space is limited in the house, but the upstairs area can serve as an impromptu dining room for a large dinner party. As long as everyone doesn't mind sitting on pillows.


Oh, and at one point, Joe Dirt lived here.


As you can tell, a lot has happened in the last four years in this house--it is a history that is full of love, laughter, sweat, tears, friends, neighbors, family, and dogs. I could share many more stories from my time at 1217 Sunnymeade, but now it is time for you to create your own stories. Enjoy your new home, and please take care of her, because she is precious. Love your neighbors, and they will love you (and sometimes even mow your lawn).

Welcome home.
TT