Garage=The Bane of my existence

Remember how the whole experience of closing on your house is a blur of paperwork and checks? Once the dust settled and I took stock of my homestead, I figured out that the garage had been excluded from everything. Should I have realized this sooner? You bet. I don’t even know when or how that information was determined, but everyone else was aware of it long before I was.

The upshot of this is that my tiny cement garage is in dire need of a new roof and (probably) new rafters, joists, beams, you name it—it needs it. I’ve got guys coming to “demo” the rotten and moldy ceiling on Thursday, so I spent today clearing out my clutter: snow tires, bike, kayak, woodpile, piles o’ plastic buckets, lawn tools, gardening crap, etc.

Here’s the problem: it’s hard to feel good about spending money on a structure you rarely use and kind of don’t care about. I mean, I know I need to do it, but wouldn’t a new tile floor in my bathroom be so much cuter? Or how about a new fall wardrobe for teaching? Or a yoga trip to Mexico? There’s easily ten things I’d rather do with my money than spend it on the building of mold that is my garage.

Big sigh. Yet another chapter in real estate reality.

On the brighter side of things, I had to laugh when I went to pay my yoga teacher last night and there was my brand new orange container of Elmer’s Wood Filler in my purse.

Painting project #1

It turns out that painting is like everything else in life.  Once you’re in the groove, it’s fine, but getting started is hell.  Since I’d been living in blissful denial, it’d been a while since I was doing any major daily painting.  I unearthed my painting duds, bought some more exterior latex semi-gloss, rediscovered my favorite brush, and clipped on my shuffle. Good to go.

I was about half way through This American Life when I remembered how important prep work is. You know, the scraping, priming, and cleaning part. Oh yeah.  After a few false starts and lots of neon Mr. Clean scrubbing, I think the porch and I are off and running.  I’d also forgotten the motto of house painters everywhere: There’s no such thing as one coat of paint. Good to know.

Cupcakes for The People!

I spent yesterday in a bubble of baking and catching up on my Splendid Table podcasts.  To celebrate my birthday, I invited folks over for a late afternoon cookout and wanted to make sure there were plenty of cupcakes to go around (and  extras in the certain event of spilled or dropped cupcakes).  Success!

We drank Fizzy Izze pomegranant juice mixed with champagne, lounged in the yard, and enjoyed the cool breeze. All in all, a good birthday. And I’m still not 40!

Home to Roost

When I bought the house, my dad asked me a lot of questions about the the basement and the size of the garage. Naturally, he wanted to be sure these crucial spaces were dry and in good condition. But I now realize that he had an ulterior motive. He was ready for me to take back all the stuff I’d been storing in his attic and garage for the last two decades. And really, who can blame him?

So over the course of a year, the things of my life have slowing been accumulating around me and this house like nails to a magnetized screwdriver. My purple mountain bike from college has found its way back to me, as have my four snow tires, and a whole slew of mildewed cardboard boxes.

At first I planned to go through all the cardboard boxes and I did find some things I’d forgotten I owned–like the brilliantly masochistic Silver Palate Cookbook and a clutch of wooden spoons I’d collected in college. But then I started finding piles of old letters from old boyfriends and school pictures from seventh grade and the hand-sewn doll named Ed that my mother made for me when I was two. All those years of storing stuff at my parents’ house meant that I was free of my own past. But now it’s here with me. So I went to Lowes and bought some of those durable plastic tubs with snap-on lids. Everything’s in there now, stacked neatly in a dry corner of my basement until I can figure out what it means to have the remnants of your history so close at hand.

Gutter Work

I may have just discovered one of the worst jobs ever—cleaning the gutters.  In my mind, I thought all I needed to do was climb a ladder and hose them out. Nope. The combination of a too-short ladder and the amount of refuse from my neighbors’ trees (leaves, nuggets, seeds, twigs) meant that I ended up on the porch roof pulling the crap out with my hands. I filled up two buckets worth. Good times.

Meanwhile, I had to keep climbing down the ladder or out the bedroom window to run and check on the almond crust I was baking. I was so flummoxed by the whole gutter situation that I forgot to add the flour  and ended up with a buttery oven mess. Second time around seems to be working. What a multi-task day–from rooftop crouching to baking a Martha Stewart raspberry tart.

Making jam

Every June I go strawberry picking with my mom.  We wear our sneakers for traction while crouching amongst the dusty straw-packed rows and baseball hats to endure the mid-morning sun.  This year we were later than usual and had to look hard for the perfect berries.  In an hour we’d picked almost 3 flats of strawberries and headed back home for the best part—making jam!  Freezer jam is quick, easy, and with the secret addition of a bit of lime zest,  incredibly tasty.   It’s a little bit of summer for those winter mornings to come.

Summer vacation

I’m back from a great family vacation in Maine where I ate my fair share of lobster, fried clams, and icecream. But owning a house has changed how I vacation.  We stayed in a little cottage and instead of listening to the waves while I sipped my wine, I found myself taking mental notes on landscaping (love those Rugosa roses on the seacoast!) and critiquing the new bathroom (leaky set-in sink, dorky balloon wallpaper). Don’t get me wrong. I still vacationed, but houses were never far from my mind. Unless, that is, I was engrossed with my long summer read.

Let there be light!

One of the first things I did when I moved in to my house last summer was to take down the ugly dining room light fixture. I hauled that thing to the curb without a second thought and then spent a year eating in the dark. I’ve learned a lot of things this past year, but perhaps one of the most important lessons is that sometimes it’s okay to live with something that isn’t perfect. In fact, sometimes living with it can be better than living without it.

But then Joe came along. And for $50 bucks he connected my repainted found dining room light. And it was good.

I can only hope that my discarded old light fixture looks this nice in its new home.

Hot Summer in the City

I just got back from a whirlwind trip down to the big apple with one of my oldest and dearest friends. We took the train in from Poughkeepsie and proceeded to eat our way through downtown. In the past I’ve stayed in midtown and gotten stressed out from the pace, the people, the traffic, and the pollution. But this trip was different.

We stayed at the Cosmopolitan Hotel in Tribeca–very clean and very close to a lot of things. They do have the world’s smallest bathroom, but we made do just fine. Here’s a rundown of the hightlights: dinner at Red Bamboo (delicious spring rolls and vegan dumplings) one night and Caravan of Dreams the next. (I’m fascinated by raw food and my friend’s gone vegan, so that might explain the restaurant choices).

Tired of having to choose between chocolate and almond croissants? For a stroke of pure genius, try the chocolate almond croissant at Bouley’s, then try the #9 at Hampton Chutney and prepare to blow your mind with spice. Which you can then cool off with iced coffee and a spelt chocolate cupcake from Babycakes.

On Saturday we headed to Brooklyn for the indie craft show-the Renegade Craft Fair–but first checked out the famous Greenmarket at Union Square and loved it.

You know you’re a homeowner when…

You decide against a half-day yoga workshop because for the same amount of money you can buy one gallon of porch paint and one gallon of exterior latex paint.

You don’t think twice about reheating day-old coffee instead of brewing a fresh pot.

You unplug your toaster, hairdryer, and office powerstrip when not in use.

You feel pure joy when you compare this month’s electric bill to last month’s.

You dream about a clothesline for the backyard and new wainscoting for the upstairs bathroom.