New Coat of Paint, Part 2

Six months ago, I announced that I had finally, finally found the living room paint color: Benjamin Moore Light Breeze. It took me months to find a color I was happy with (along with a zillion paint swatches applied haphazardly to walls), but I landed and started painting. I wasn’t entirely sure about the color at first, but it quickly grew on me. After a few weeks, I was in love.

So why, you may ask, has it taken me six months to finish?

Partly laziness. I’ve been painting the living room / dining room one wall at a time, section by section. Yes, I could have devoted an entire weekend to it and just finished the job, but it seemed somehow easier to steal 2 hours here, 3 hours there, and just go wall by wall.

The larger reason? I didn’t feel ready to commit. What if I made the wrong choice? What if this color — which looked so great in the dining room — looked terrible in the hallway? In the living room? Would it look boring to have the entire living area one color? Would it turn the house into one big room? Was the color cool enough, chic enough, to commit to having it on ALL the walls? WHAT WOULD PINTEREST THINK?

I thought I landed on a solution — the dining room and hallway would be Light Breeze, while the living room walls would be white. It’d break up the space, create some separation. Still, I hesitated.

And then I was browsing Benjamin Moore colors online, and saw a combo that made me pause. It made me “ooh” and “aah”. I asked Byron, and he said, “Sure, go for it.” But I still wasn’t convinced. Had I seen other blogs do something similar? Was this an “ok” thing to do? Would I regret the end result, immediately hate it and realize I could have done better?

Finally one morning, I realized: it’s paint. Just paint. The worst thing that could happen was I wouldn’t like the color, and I’d have to paint over it. That was literally the absolute worst thing that could happen in this scenario.

Isn’t it funny, these small dilemmas that we build up to be so big in our heads?

So this weekend, I finally finished painting.

Benjamin Moore Day's End and Benjamin Moore Light Breeze.

Most of the living room I finished up in Light Breeze — the back wall I painted Benjamin Moore Day’s End. A deep charcoal with blue undertones. It satisfies my original desire for bold color, plays beautifully with the yellow in Light Breeze, and makes the living room feel like a cozy cave. My own little retreat.

Am I in love with it? I’m not sure yet. But it’s done — a decision was made. I went with my gut and forgot all the rest. And at the end of the day, that’s sometimes just what you need.

 

 

The Evolving Backyard

At this point, we’ve been in The Rambler for about a year and a half. We’ve made quite a bit of progress, but none quite so dramatic as the backyard. When we moved it, it was a crazed weed-land jungle:

Backyard_Before

We worked on clearing it out and made some progress… until we chopped down an 80 foot Douglas fir.

I call this one "Northwest palm tree."

Residential backyard with slash piles.

It looked like an ogre had stampeded through the yard, pulling out trees and throwing the limbs around wily nily. Not a pretty sight — and NOT a fun place to hang out.

Well, in September, we opened up a can of whoop-ass. We threw all those tree limbs in a wood chipper (not Fargo style), hauled in three yards of compost, and tried to tame the wild beast that is the Backyard.

And now — nine months later — we have this:

Backyard_Lawn

WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT?? It’s a lawn! A real, green, plush Eco-Lawn, with little plantings around it, and a bed off to the side with hostas and a baby maple tree! And adirondack chairs, and a small dog tied to a horseshoe stake because we still haven’t managed to complete the fencing!

(It should be noted that two days after this picture was taken, a mole came and erupted three large holes smack dab in the middle of the baby lawn. Thanks, reality, for the check.)

Working in the backyard now, it feels like a place you’d want to hang out. That trio of fir trees behind the adirondacks? That’s where the hammock colony lives. And off to the side — there’s the barbecue that Byron will be manning, next to the table and chair set we purchased last summer and haven’t had any opportunity to use. Maybe we’ll actually use that horseshoe stake for horseshoes. Once it finally gets dark out (at 9:30pm, because we live in the Northwest and Northwest summers are the best), the fire pit is ready to be pulled out for toasting s’mores.

Sometimes life can feel like one long slog, one long day of hard work after the next — but then sometimes, you actually see the payoff of that hard work, RIGHT THERE! Right there in front of you. I’ve been feeling down about my writing as of late, down about the book… but looking at the backyard, I remind myself that hard work can pay off. It’s not a guarantee, of course — but it’s the only way to get any sort of results. You gotta put in your time if you want to enjoy the hammock colony.

New Coat of Paint

There are some house projects that you think are going to be awful and turn out to be not-so-bad. Some house projects you think will be easy breezy and turn out being stab-yourself-in-the-eye terrible. And then… there’s painting.

I actually don’t mind painting. I love the immediate, dramatic change. I love how it alters the character of a room. Yes, it can be a total pain in the ass (see kitchen cabinets), but the end result is always worth it to me.

Back in my dormitory and apartment-renting days, I always swore that when I finally had a place of my own, I’d paint it with COLOR! Bold, bright, lots of color. Every apartment manager known to man seems to use the same drab beige. You get so tired of it. I dreamt of the day I could choose my OWN hues.

Well, it turns out there’s a reason every single apartment is painted that same drab beige. It’s easy, it’s neutral, and OMFG CHOOSING A PAINT COLOR IS HARD.

Benjamin Moore Paints
I couldn’t even tell you the names of all of these at this point. All Benjamin Moore.

Poor Byron. Over the course of several months, I bought and brought home no less than 6 paint samples and slapped them on the walls. Our living and dining room don’t get a ton of direct light, so it tends to feel a bit cold in there. I initially thought I wanted to go BOLD yet warm, like a nice flax or goldenrod. But once I got that up on the walls, I realized that a) color looks a lot bolder when it’s IN YOUR HOUSE, and b) our house is small. Even in just a tiny section, bold color seemed to swallow up the room.

So I switched courses, seeking something lighter, a nice neutral that would work as a background for art. Grey is super popular right now, but you guys, we live in Seattle. There is already too much grey for my liking. Long story short (a story that takes us through beige and grey and greige and something with a weird pink undertone), I finally landed here.

Benjamin Moore Light Breeze 512 Benjamin Moore Light Breeze. Not too dark, not too light, not too boring — a nice golden hue with the tiniest hint of green that immediately warmed up the room. Finally, the search was over! Success! After some procrastination, I slapped it up in the dining room.

Benjamin Moore Light Breeze - Before
The “sort of before” picture, since I forgot to snap one before I started painting.
Benjamin Moore Light Breeze - After
And after, before I’d managed to clean up the mess.

Except… You guys. I’m driving myself crazy. Now that it’s up, I keep staring at it and thinking, “Is it too yellow? It seems so yellow. Or maybe too dark? Does it clash with the art? Should I have gone with an off-white? There are a lot of off-whites… OMG there are a LOT OF OFF-WHITES and I don’t want anything too boring, but is THIS THE RIGHT ONE?”

I explained these thoughts to Byron, and he gave me a weird look and said, “Your brain sounds like a terrible place to be.” Thanks, babe.

Last night, I looked at the walls and said, ok, enough is enough. This is the paint color I have chosen. If only for the fact that I bought a frickin’ gallon of it. It’s going up on the walls.

Benjamin Moore Light Breeze in Dining Room.
Evening light a few days after painting, with small wheagle dog.

I keep telling myself that with time, I’ll get used to it and come to love it. Byron likes it. Everyone who’s seen it says they like it (UNLESS THEY’RE LYING). I’ll paint the hallway and living room, and then everything with look cohesive. Clean and warm. I will accept this, and move on.

And then I’ll have to choose paint colors for the bedrooms. What have I gotten myself into….

Happy House-iversary

Man running a trencher machine.

Sunday marked our one-year anniversary in The Rambler. We celebrated by… well, to be honest, I think both of us forgot. Byron ran a half marathon that morning, and I spent the entire afternoon baking a cake. So, you know. Priorities.

I do feel the need to mark the occasion in some way, though. This is our first house, the first thing we’ve truly owned together (besides a cat, but let’s face it, that is a low-investment item). And damn it, we’ve worked our asses off this past year. I’m sure I’m forgetting some things, but from what I can remember, these are the projects we wrapped up this past year:

  • Replace the old leaky roof with a new non-leaky roof (ok, technically this was the week before we moved in, but I’m counting it).
  • Replace the “definitely will kill us” electrical box (done about an hour after we got the keys).
  • Repair bath tub plumbing.
  • Repair the “someone obviously tried to kick this in” back door.
  • Paint the kitchen cabinets and the God-awful faux brick.
  • Insulate pipes under the house (which still, STILL has not helped with the freezing water that reaches the bathroom early in the morning).
  • Clear out The Jungle that was the backyard (which involved finding a ton of buried trash, including bones).
  • Install a bathroom fan so we don’t get Mold.
  • Put in French drainage so rain doesn’t run off the roof and directly onto the foundation.
Man running a trencher machine.
Byron running The Trencher, which we had to rent to install the French drainage.
Baby roses, all ready to go. (Plus, the randomly placed maple in the middle of the lawn. Which WILL eventually not be random. But for now...yeah.)
Baby roses, all ready to go. (Plus, the randomly placed maple in the middle of the lawn. Which WILL eventually not be random. But for now…yeah.)
  • Paint the shed in the backyard and start the Hammock Colony.
  • Replace the old oil furnace with an energy-efficient heat pump.
  • Rent a wood chipper, go crazy and install a lawn in the backyard (which, ugh, is now FULL OF WEEDS! WHY, CRUEL WORLD, WHY!).
  • Fix up and paint the hole-ridden interior trim (newly finished as of Monday! woot!).

Geez. I am exhausted just LOOKING at that list. We knew the house was going to be a project when we bought it — and obviously, it has been. One project after another. But weirdly, it’s for the most part been incredibly satisfying work. Hard work,  yes — most of those projects, we completed on our own (and I’m sure Byron would like me to note that he has done most of the hard hard work). But it’s really cool to see a house transform before your very eyes, from “this has potential” to “this is starting to come together.”

I have no idea how many more house-iversaries there will be — who knows, by this time next year maybe we’ll be living in Switzerland with Swiss cats and puppies (unlikely, but YOU NEVER KNOW). But in the meantime, it’s nice to see the hard work paying off. We’ll wrangle you yet, Rambler. One project at a time.

This House

This past weekend, a miraculous thing happened: we had an entire afternoon with no plans on the calendar. Nowhere to be, nothing to do. Well, nothing planned to do — the house needed picking up. But it ended up being the “ok” kind of housework, where you just get in the zone and get shit done. We fell into a rhythm, puttering around and cleaning, talking to one another from different rooms, listening to the radio in the background.

At one point we were both in the bathroom, Byron wiping down the sink and me looking at the shower, which I had cleaned earlier that day. When we bought the Rambler, the shower was advertised as “new!” Well, technically yes. It was a new, shoddily installed shower with obvious gaps and really questionable caulk work (really, so much of our house is basically an advertisement for “hire a professional, yo!”).

As I studied the shower, I said, “Byron, I’m a bit worried some of the shower isn’t sealed correctly and water’s getting behind the panels.”

“Oh yeah, it definitely is,” Byron said.

Oh, well, ok then. “So do we have to worry about mold?”

“No, rot. Definitely rot. I’m 99% sure it’s rotting back there.”

“Oh good, another project.” I shrugged. “Add it to the list.”

“This song is appropriate,” he said.

I must have given him my ‘huh?’ face. “Listen to the lyrics.”

I did — and I laughed:

What do you know? this house is falling apart
What can I say? this house is falling apart
We got no money, but we got heart

 

Well, yes. That about sums it up in a nutshell. But what can you? We had a quick dance party in the bathroom, then moved on to the next task at hand. This never-ending project of a house may throw curveballs at us, but we’re creative, resourceful, and we have each other. We’ll pull this place together.

Rambler Update: Backyard, Reclaimed

When we moved into our house this past December, the backyard was… well, a bit of a disaster. The ivy and morning-glory had been allowed to take over, and it was apparent that the previous owners had been using the place as their own personal dump (as evidenced by the buried trash and bones we kept uncovering… fun).

I somehow got the idea in my head that we’d be able to get the yard 100% under control by summer. Can we all do this together: HA HA HA HA HA. Man, where did I get that crazy idea?

Residential backyard with slash piles.
As of last Friday, this was the current state of our backyard. Notice the THREE huge slash piles.

But, slowly but slowly, we’ve been pulling it together. Earlier this summer we took out an 80 foot tree. And this past weekend — finally, FINALLY — we achieved my dream of making this wild jungle-land begin to resemble a good old-fashioned blue-blooded American backyard.

Wood chipper.
Chip ALL THE WOOD!

Of course, there had to be big-ass machinery involved. The first step in the process was to rent a wood chipper and destroy all the slash piles that lay scattered about the yard. Which, UGH. “Annoying” is a good word to describe that process. After sitting in our yard for six months, the slash piles did NOT want to budge. The pine needles had turned into a sort of glue, holding all the branches together. BUT, the good news? We didn’t find any rat nests! Which I was 99% sure would happen. So I’m counting that as a MAJOR WIN.

(One big thing that the wood-chipping reinforced? We have awesome friends and neighbors. The neighbor to the south of us let us borrow some machinery. The neighbor across the street saw that we were working and came over to help “just because.” My dad came over to help drag slash piles around. There’s nothing like several hours of tedious labor to reinforce that you have a lot of awesome people in your life.)

After the limbs had all been chipped (oh yes, we now have a HUGE PILE OF CHIPS sitting in the front yard… next project), we turned to the lawn. We decided to put in a small Eco-Lawn to act as a sort of focal point for the rest of the yard, bordered by various drought-resistant plants.

Residential backyard with compost.
First layer of compost, ready for roto-tilling.

Putting in a lawn from scratch is… well, it’s not hard, per se. Just kind of a pain. There’s the composting, the rototilling, more composting, more rototilling raking, smoothing, seeding. A lot of steps that all add up. And at the end? You just cross your fingers and hope that it all worked. I keep peeking out the window, waiting to see little shoots of green. We’ll know in 7-14 days….

But even without the grass sprouting up yet — you guys, what an improvement.

Residential backyard.

It’s actually starting to look like a yard. It’s starting to look like a space where we can kick back and relax, barbecue, play horseshoes, invite friends over and entertain. All the potential that we saw when we moved in, it’s starting to become a reality.

The Rambler: Tree Chopping Edition

This past weekend I drove over the mountains and escaped into the Methow Valley, an unbelievably relaxing strip of land tucked within the north Cascades. I ate way too much food and saw a crazy amount of deer and looked up at crazy close stars and in general had a great time.

Meanwhile, back at the home front, this was happening:

Cutting down Doug fir tree.

SURPRISE!

No, I mean, not really. I knew it was happening, and it was fortuitous I was gone for the weekend, because chopping down 80 foot trees? Not my thing. But fortunately it is some people’s thing, and logger-man Sam came and chopped down this tree for us, while Byron served as ground crew.

Cutting_Tree_2

This ol’ Doug Fir HAD to go. It was planted about five feet away from our house, and about twenty feet away from the neighbor’s house. Its root system had already been compromised on both sides (most recently when we put in the French drain). Basically, it was a ticking time bomb, just waiting to crush one of our houses.

I call this one "Northwest palm tree."
I call this one “Northwest palm tree.”

So how do you take down an 80 foot tree that’s right next to two houses? Slowly. In sections. It took Sam and Byron twelve hours to get this bad boy down. Sam would climb up there, cut a section, then send it via rope down to the ground. We have an INSANE pile of tree debris in the backyard right now. (Crazy tree debris covers up the crazy weeds. Silver lining?). Byron gets to spend the next couple weekends chopping up chunks of tree for fire wood, and sending the rest through a wood chipper for mulch.

Cutting_Tree_6

Now that this sucker’s gone — OMG I can’t BELIEVE how much more sunlight we get back there. This tree was on the north side of the property, so we didn’t think it’d affect much, but now the backyard is just filled with soft pretty light.

Looking at the stump, half-heartedly attempting to count the rings, I can’t help but feel a little sad. I think about how long that tree’s been around, how much it’s “seen”. Like I said, we really had no other option but to take it down. But it really does stop and make you think how impressive something as simple as a tree can be.

Sections of Doug Fir tree.

Blank

Can you pretend that the soundtrack to this post is Usher’s Confessions? Mmmkay thanks.

I haven’t done laundry in over a week. Which, you know, not a big deal! Exceeeept I have no clean clothes. Every morning is a scavenger hunt for something to wear (today’s outfit brought to you by the laundry hamper!). The washing machine is literally 20 feet from where the dirty clothes are, yet somehow this distance is too epic to overcome.

I haven’t been writing as much as I should be this past month. And nope, I can’t even try to come up with an excuse for that. Just a serious case of “meh” whenever I sit down to the computer.

We completed a BIG house project this weekend. I had a big blog post planned for it, too. And then… I dunno. Does anyone actually care about French drainage? I’m not convinced. But it was a big thing that took up literally the entire weekend and left us both drained for the week ahead (my husband more so than me, as he admittedly did the brunt of the work).

(Speaking of literally — you heard they’re amending the dictionary definition? I can’t even.)

I’ve been reading a REALLY good book (Flesh and Blood, if you’re interested). But the problem with me and really good books is they tend to swallow me whole. I get lost in the characters, the place, the time. I end up living in my own brain and not, you know, in the world, where all the people reside. A coworker asked me the other day if I were ok; apparently I had this weird, blank expression on my face. Yup, good. Just, you know… lost in the mind-grapes.

This is all to say that this week, you guys, I’m drawing blanks. I’ve been self-diagnosed with the “blahs”. The reservoir is drained — and right now, that’s not an option. There are projects lined up, works I’m eager to finish. I need a reset, a small jaunt away from reality. (Which, fortunately, is on the horizon…)

How do you fill the tank when you’re feeling drained? I love me some coffee, but these mornings, it ain’t doing the trick.

Welcome to the Jungle

We have a BIG backyard. Grande. We figured out this weekend it’s about 4,200 square feet. And let me tell you, I have grande plans to match it. It will be an amazing sanctuary and adult play area, complete with hammocks, a fire pit with dedicated s’mores area, and of course, places to rest your adult beverages.

The only problem — this is what the yard looked like when we moved in:

Welcome to the jungle.
Welcome to the jungle.

Oh HEY there, crazy six-foot weeds! HEY ivy that threatens to take over everything! And oh, majestic cedar (fir? pine?) trees, feel free to drop your needles everywhere. Please, feel free.

I’ve been eager to attack this project, because did I mention HAMMOCKS? I realized the other day that spring is rapidly approaching, which means summer is hard on its heels… and damn it, I WILL relax in this yard come summer.

THIS is what I will look up at from my hammock. A lovely...seriously, I need to figure out what these trees are.
THIS is what I will look up at from my hammock. A lovely…seriously, I need to figure out what these trees are.

So this weekend we tackled the ivy. I’ve had a long-standing hatred of ivy, inherited from my father. It’s invasive in the area and takes. over. everything. I want it dead dead dead. I enlisted the help of a bored friend (REALLY bored) and my poor husband, who really just wanted to relax inside instead.

Sorry, Byron!
Sorry, Byron!

But over the course of two days, we got SO MUCH IVY pulled. We’re not 100%, but probably about 70% of it is OUT OUT OUT.

This is just SOME of the buried treasure we found:

  • Half a racquetball
  • A broken flower-pot
  • A ridiculously huge amount of rotting plywood
  • Elmer’s glue
  • Blackberries! Surprise!
  • Sheets of black plastic (which didn’t contain a body! yay!)
  • Crushed soda cans
  • Candy wrappers
  • The limbs of a felled tree

I mean, SCORE, right?? Thanks, former owners!

By the end of the weekend, we had gone from jungle to this:

Panoramic view of the backyard, with 70% of the ivy out.
Panoramic view of the backyard, with 70% of the ivy out.

Progress. Next steps will involve all sorts of fun stuff, like leveling and rototilling (I’m trying to get myself psyched for it).

Dad was laughing because THIS was how I chose to spend my weekend, rather than, you know, going to a movie or something. But you know what? This all feels like a new adventure to me right now, and I’m gonna ride that wave until reality comes crashing down. And it’ll all be worth it when I’m drinking a mojito on my hammock this summer.

Spring is coming!
Spring is coming!

The Rambler: Cabinet Edition

The thing no one ever tells you about buying a house is that once you do, there’s a relentless pile of projects that must be done.

HAHAHA just kidding. EVERYONE tells you that. We decided not to listen and bought a house anyway. A 1950’s rambler, to be exact.

It’s weird, no matter how much homework you do, there are still surprises once the house is actually yours. We were walking around for weeks saying, “Huh. There’s a hole in that door.” Or, “Huh. There are staples around ALL the windows.” Or (my husband’s favorite), “Huh. There are sheets and sheets of moldy visqueen stuffed in this cupboard.” SURPRISE!

But two months in, we’re getting more settled as we continue to unpack, hang up artwork, and update. For the most part, we’re enjoying the projects — it feels good to invest time and energy into something that’s yours.

But this last week… it was kitchen painting time.

Do you SEE that horrendous-ness? FAUX BRICK TILES, people. Surrounded by dirty (LITERALLY dirty) black paint. Awful. AWFUL. I actually painted those bricks several weeks ago because I Could. Not. Deal. That still left us with the raw-wood kitchen cabinets to paint (advertised as “You get to pick your own finish!”). We knew that painting the cabinets would have to be one of our top priorities, as we didn’t want them to get all grimy and gunked up. So finally, finally, we got to it.

I won’t get into all the nitty gritty details, but needless to say, painting cabinets sucks. Lessons learned:

  • Ummm, WOW these cabinets are crappily made! We knew they weren’t the highest caliber before, but gettin’ all up in their grill really confirms it.
  • Oil primer takes FOREVER to dry. FOR-EV-ER. Since the cabinets were unfinished wood, the paint guy at the local hardware store recommended we use it. NEVER AGAIN.
  • Wet paint = magnet for cat tails.
  • No matter how much masking you do, there will always — always — be goof-ups.
The Disaster Zone
Primer done, waiting to dry. Welcome to the disaster zone!

After five days, all the cabinets are finally re-hung and…

Before
Before – blah.
After
After – woo hoo!

IT’S DONE. I’ve strategically hidden all the “this need a touch-up” spots. But you know, it works. For now, I’ll consider it one more project checked off the list. Completed ones so far:

  • Replace roof.
  • Replace the “will definitely kill you in your sleep” electrical panel.
  • Repair tub plumbing.
  • Paint kitchen cabinets.
  • Add weather stripping to the “can see sunlight through it” front door.
  • Add cat door to “The Once and Future Garage”.
  • Replace broken back door.
  • Insulate pipes in crawl space.
  • Add big-ass shed to the backyard.

Looks fairly impressive, until compared to our “to be done” list:

  • Install bathroom fan.
  • Repair drainage on the side of the house (will involve trench digging — fun!).
  • Paint ALL THE THINGS.
  • Replace the ghetto single-pane windows.
  • Convert “The Once and Future Garage” BACK into a garage.
  • Replace the “can no longer see sunlight but still ghetto” front door.
  • Repair sad and slanted front step.
  • Convert laundry room into a laundry room/2nd bathroom.
  • Tame and landscape the Jungle that is our backyard.

We’ll get it done, Rambler, one project at a time….