Week 4: The Sanctuary

Since the shingling progress is shockingly slow, I'll direct attention to our finished master suite, "The Sanctuary". Clint hammered into the nights to 90s rock and John Tesh's self help mantras in hopes of completing the rooms before our June wedding. Overexposure to Star 101.5fm caused him to continuously hum Ace of Base and share "intelligence for life" tidbits with sales clerks at Lowes. His valiant efforts fell short, but exchanging vows eclipsed spacking shower drains on the June to-do list. While we sipped Pina Coladas on our honeymoon, however, our friends and family threw work parties in Seattle. One friend was undeterred by his lack of house key, and instead, came in through the crawl space, lifting a 200 pound water heater which rested upon the hatch opening. Clint's parents opened the front door 20 minutes later to a tired but determined worker.

Our den of disrepair was replaced by textured drywall, completed wiring, and installed fixtures. Friends even stuck house numbers on our mailbox! This letter-receiving machine is much more functional now that the mailman can find us. After some paint and flooring, we settled into our suite.

Week 3: Can We Buy You a Drink?

Nestled in DuPont, we found a bastion of caffeination on our trip to the Washington coast. We stretched our legs and perused Starbucks' "Gold Star Membership" literature. Half of my mocha was gone before the "Rewards" education ended. Since we were hopped up on stimulants, we felt motivated to draw out landscaping plans for the house. Optimistic plans for future projects prevent despair at the tedium of our current shingling process.

My lacking drafting skills became more apparent as the landscape developed. Clint, a structural engineer, directed my lackluster ability to set objects to scale. The basketball hoop does not actually dwarf the trees, and the garage is not the same size as the house. My curving brick pathway, however, would elicit praise from any kindergarten teacher. With an oddly large car randomly added--viola--our landscape was complete. At least the sketch. So, yes, Starbucks, you may buy us a drink. But we'll need something stronger than coffee.

Week 2: The Money Pit

When remodeling a home, there is one film a young couple should never watch: "The Money Pit." We mistakenly believed Tom Hanks and Shelly Long would provide levity for our house work. Not so. In many memorable scenes, our friend Tom perfects falling though innocent looking house features. These were the moments running through my head as I received a disconcerting text from my dear husband Friday. Clint wrote in true texting brevity, "So, I fell through the house today." He stepped on the attic opening, covered with insulating Styrofoam. Ten feet later, he lay on the ground with a new understanding of Styrofoam use. He was not seriously injured, and more importantly, his precious iPhone incurred no damage. Clint absolutely refused to reenact the incident on camera. He wouldn't even pose for a quick shot. So, to remind him of the dangers of attic wandering, I carefully taped an outline of his handsome frame below the attic hatch. Please note his right hand is still clutching the iPhone in my diagram. We are hoping this is the only "pit" we encounter in our blueberry-hued home.

Week 1: Fume-Friendliness

To accent our Blueberry home, Clint and I decided on classy Cedar shingles. Before starting, we searched for a spot to dry our little wooden treasures. I called several storage facilities in an attempt to find a functional garage. After my questions, "Can we rent for just 1 month?, "Are the units heated?", and "What is your policy on hazardous fumes?", I was rejected as a potential tenant. For the record, we found no fume-friendly public storage. This meant our detached garage, our pet opossum's home, needed clearing for the job. Clint and I began our staining the day after Christmas. We are hoping to finish the shingles in the next two weeks. 4 boxes down, 7 to go!

Of Doorknobs and Screwdrivers

During my recent bout with a stubborn sinus infection, Clint brought home soup, flowers, and a promise to close off our bedroom with a door. That weekend, we drove down to Second Use. This warehouse sells everything from 50s-era public school drinking fountains to wooden Starbucks kiosks. With measurements in hand, we found a Craftsman-style door in its original frame. We bought five of them for other rooms needing a little privacy. We asked about special deals, and it was buy 4, get the 5th for regular price. Feeling rather confident with our doors, we drove home. Clint installed one in the bedroom and we marveled at the benefits of enclosed spaces. In our zealous door buying, however, we neglected doorknobs. For the next week, a screwdriver was inserted and skillfully twisted to allow exiting privileges. The rest of our house resembles the chaos of scattered life-size Legos, so that wasn't a problem. We purchased crystal doorknobs the next week and spent a good portion of our evening opening and closing. Luxury is relative.