When your house is in boxes and you're dreaming of the future

We packed up this week, about half of our house.  Maybe that’s too generous; maybe it was 2/5 of out worldly goods.  I’m not sure.  I do know that I packed up literally half of my kitchen, and I still have plenty of functionality.  This gives me pause.  If I don’t need half of the stuff I have, why do I have it?  This question, of course, does not apply to my beloved pasta extruder, which I so bravely packed up and won’t see again until after August – I have that because, while not necessary to the function of my kitchen, it is necessary to my soul.

Please forgive the low-light, phone pictures.
Either way, this is the last proof I have of my wall like so.
These frames are now boxed, and my house is returning to its generic-builder-look

We packed and packed and packed.  You can see the digression in our packing and labeling skills.  The first few boxes are packed to the tops, nice and tight, with like items and then taped in 3 places and carefully labeled with both the contents and the designated unpacking room.  The last box I packed?  “Stuf”.  Not even two t’s.  Its pathetic. But we did it, poorly or no.  We packed, amid box shortages and uncertainty and “should it stay or should it go now” songs, and especially, despite feelings.

You guys.  There were so many feelings.  If you've ever moved from some place that you loved, I don’t have to explain these feelings to you.   There is most definitely a heart-ripping part of this.  We will never be totally separate from our sweet S. Carolina.  Its impossible, we've been changed too much by the place, by the people.  By the realization that BBQ can be something beautiful and not just chopped up deli meat & Sweet Baby Ray’s.  We've spent our whole married lives with SC driver’s licenses.  It’ll be 6 years by the time we pack the final final box, and my word, they've been good years.

But since this is a truthful place, a place to find and celebrate beauty, despite circumstances, I have to tell you that there were happy feelings too.  There is so much I want to do differently with our second house.  I’d be lying if I said that the timely arrival of The Nester’s new book didn't have a hand in that.  The ache is still in the leaving, but there’s a small spark of anticipation building too.  There has to be.  If I don’t look at this new step as an adventure, I’m sunk.  It is happening, regardless of my attitude, and so it only serves me to have the best attitude I can.

And so, after devouring The Nesting Place in one evening while sitting curled up with my new Delicate Fortress Creation’s reclaimed, hand-quilted Sari throw (so perfect!) and eating a little bit of a Divine Milk Chocolate bar, I've got the beginnings of a new Manifesto. 

Scratch that.  Manifesto implies a cohesive, well-thought-out set of ideas that can withstand time and scrutiny.  I think that what I actually have is just a motto, albeit a long one.  Whatever.  I’m proud of it all the same (hashtag: own it).  So here’s my extra-long-motto-but-not-quite-a-manifesto, because you've earned it. 

This time, I will do tings differently.

- I will not make a home for some imaginary future owners.  We are the owners, we are living our days inside these walls, and we will make them our own.  

- I will take risks, and not stick to the one decorating trick I know (read: no more empty picture frames on every floor, in every room).

- I will see the value that exists in taking time and resources to build a comfortable, peaceful home.  Yes, it takes cash dollars and brain power, but having a purposeful, intentional home is worth it.

- I will be me in this home, and this home will look like mine.  I will own it, in every sense of the phrase.  No matter if people don’t understand why Christmas lights are hanging from the chandelier, no matter if I get on a first name and “how are your daughter’s grades?” basis with the Salvation Army people, no matter if I decide I don’t like something I begged for.  If it is not known to be functional, or believed (by me) to be beautiful, I won’t have it in my home.  And if it is either of those things, it will be.

- I will share my home in all of its imperfect glory, because to me, homes are merely  tools building community and keeping the chill out.  Although my house will reflect who I am, it will not be my identity.  It will be full of warmth even when the furnace breaks, it will be a source of calm to haggard souls despite the clutter that will never be totally picked up, and it will be where people know they are welcome and loved.  It will be a fabulous home.  Even if the walls have wood paneling on them (I can't abide it, I'm sorry).  Even if there is carpet in the bathrooms when we move in (that can’t stay, and for that I don’t apologize).

Those are my plans, my hopes, my ambitions for our new home, whatever it looks like.  Now that we've packed our fingers off, we’re driving half of our belongings North to be stored in my Father-in-law’s shed without telling him (because telling him gives him heartburn), and then we’re going house-hunting.  Seventeen houses in a single day, with over 100K between the cheapest and most expensive houses we’re looking at.  Because we Magagnotti’s are cheap and dreamers and like neighbors and large plots of land, and a great many other things.  Wish us luck!  Oh, and if you've got any advice, I'm all ears!

<3 M.

On Leaving & Jeremiah 29

Our windows are open tonight.  The warm air that is South Carolina in March is blowing through, and I'm overwhelmed by how much I love this place.

Not specifically this house, although now that my baby is growing up here, I like it a lot more.  I see places where she plays and stairs that she learns to climb on and doorways that she peeks her head out of so much more, and I see overspray on the brick and missing quarter round and sagging crown molding much less.  When we bought this house, my intention was for it to be a three-year house.  Just long enough to get us through the end of my PhD.  I struggled off and on with hating it, for all of the things that it wasn't.  Open floor plan. precisely constructed. modern.  And now, when we're entertaining ideas about leaving it, I find myself curiously attached.

But maybe its not so curious.
I mean, who doesn't love that faux wood paneling in a small kitchen?
I'm really helping this place out if we go to sell it, aren't I?

In a "I will remember you fondly but there's your door and I'll let it slam on the way out" sort of way, not in an "I wanna live here for eva" sort of way.  Make no mistake.  This house, although the memories will be missed, and the great morning and afternoon light it has always gotten will be reminisced about, is leave-able.

But while we're entertaining ideas that would lead to us leaving this house, we're also entertaining ideas that would lead to us leaving this place.  This 70* in March place.  This sweet-tea-or-bust, yes-ma'am-no-sir, fixin' to and 'pert near place.

That's definitely not a "let the door hit chya" type of thing.  Apparently, I am a southern girl.  I wasn't born a southern girl, and only God knows how long I'll get to stay here, but I love it here; I've found my people.  I was made for the southern life.  It explains why I've always loved mason jars so well!  (If you also love mason jars, you should consider the south.  Just sayin'.)

When we moved here S-I-X years ago, it did not feel like home.  Oh, I fought it.  It was new and scary and different and so. far. away. from our families and my nieces and nephews were growing up without me and I didn't know anyone at the grocery store.  I could go to Walmart in my rattiest pajamas without fear of running into someone I knew.  I missed that.  I pined for that.  I walked the sidewalk in front of our first apartment, playing balance beam on the parking blocks, crying on the phone to anyone with an 814 area code who would listen.

I clung to Joshua 29, a letter to the exiles.  I know a lot of people love verse 11, and with good reason.  " 'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord.  Plans to prosper you and not to harm you.  To give you a hope, and a future."  And I agree that that verse can give a lot of comfort.  But I liked to move a few verses back and just hang out with verse 7.  " 'Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you... and pray to the Lord on its behalf.  For in its welfare, you will have welfare.' "

So we sought our city's welfare (using "city" in the loosest of terms).  We joined things and knew people and became known to them.  We developed friendships and volunteered and eventually, after much work and dedication and shopping cart wrangling, we began to see people we knew at the grocery store.  And I read Joshua 29 again, and I saw that verse 5 said to "build houses and live in them.  Plant gardens and eat their produce." and so we did.  Of course, we did it for other reasons, like low mortgage rates and a love for digging potatoes.  But we did it.  We put down roots.  We really invested in this place.

Verse 6 says to "take wives and become fathers of sons and daughters..."  Again, not because we were following the step-by-step instructions, but all the same, we did this.  We began our legacy here.  We are now attached to this place in a way that can never be erased, our names printed on a birth certificate beside the names "Mother" and "Father" with "Greenville, South Carolina" in the location line.  For the rest of her life, when Riley fills out serious government paperwork, it will call back to this place.  The place where we were "exiled".

And now, it might all change again.  I've got a job interview the end of this month, and getting/taking that job would send us packing, to a place closer to home, but not home.  We would start over again.  Tonight, partially because this is big and partially because I'm having a hard time with DST and didn't get much sleep, this potentiality seems like a gaping hole I can't even begin to cross.  Think "The Great Divide" from Land Before Time and you'll be on the right track.  I can't fathom leaving here, beginning again back in verse 7, then verse 5, and 6.

But I do know this: We did what we were supposed to.  Even if we do end up having to leave, even if it means starting over, even if the fact that we have such deep roots means that it will hurt so much more to rip them out, we did what God asked of us, and I'm not sorry.  And if He asks us to do it again, I will.  I don't know how, but I will.  Because He is faithful, even when we've run out of faith, and I know he will lead, as He always has.

I don't talk about this with many people, because we know so few location-indiscriminate types.  You might call them gypsies.  Most of our friends are either back home, where we spent our first 22 years, or here, where we've been for 6, and they each want us with them, which is nice but also hard.  So thanks, invisible internet friends, for letting me talk to you about it.  ;)

<3 M.

Lizard Tales

Guess who I found today?

I will name him Paulie

A lizard.  Or, more precisely, two lizards!  On my deck!

At least, I think they're different.  Could just be a color changer, I'm not sure.  Look into his eyes, tell me if he's the same.  

These lizards reminded me of two stories, which I will share with you now.  Be thinking of questions, because I'll call on the best listener after the post... or something :)

Pest Control

I don't blog for the money, or the fame.  I don't blog for the notoriety, or the whispered, "Hey, that's TheeFireWife!".  Which is good, because there's pretty much none of that.  I blog to share.  My stories, my adventures, my crafty things, my baking success and failures.  

And in that vein, I am here to share with you a most disturbing story, an adventure of as-yet-unseen proportions.  At least, for the Magagnotti household.

It all started with this text from Handsome.  I got it while I was out tutoring.  It's the text that most girls don't want to get.  The one that strikes fear into their hearts and makes them reconsider going home at all, ever again.

"Please pick up rat traps please"

My reaction: Really?  Can't I just pick up some "For Sale" flyers of other homes?

Nothing but the best for our pests.
Straight from Litz, PA.

So Curtains...

I've got curtains on the brain.  Probably because our house has only 2 windows properly clothed, out of, I think, 18 windows?  Do door windows count?  It seems to have gotten so bad that my neighbor stopped by yesterday with a set of drapes she wanted me to have.  "You know, *head point towards bare front windows* because it seemed like they might... let us not see you all the time warm the place up a bit."  Right Jules, right... "warm the place up"... I see right through you... kind of like you can see right through my windows...

Once I get curtains, this guy won't be able to see in anymore.
Guess he'll have to find another hobby.
Racquetball is an option.

Anyhow.

I know it's New Year's Eve's eve, and I should be thinking about resolutions and reflecting on this past year.  So let me get that part out of the way so I can go back to whats really on my mind.

Resolutions

• Exercise myself and my dog regularly
• Eat real food even when Handsome is on shift (anyone else think cereal is a fine dinner meal 3 nights a week?)
• Seek justice, love mercy, walk humbly (and regularly) with my God.  Yes, it's in a song, but it's pretty apropos.
• Handsome would like me to add, "Take better care of my things and put things back where they belong."  Apparently I've been lacking in some areas...

Reflections

• This year has been great.

Obviously, I'm not feeling very reflective.  In true scatterbrained fashion, I'll probably bore you with some "looking back" next week or something.  But this year was awesome.  Here's to another!

So... Curtains...

You might think that curtains are a boring topic for a blog post.  Let me warn you, you ain't seen nothing yet.  I'm about to dissect this subject so thoroughly that you'll be crying for 10th grade history.  

You think curtains are interesting and could never be boring?  Challenge, accepted.

Pin-disaster

It's sort of funny, really, how one little letter can change your perspective so much.

Last night, at 11:43 PM, those walls seemed awesome to me.

Today, at 11:43 AM, those walls seem awful.

And that is why I left my walls bare.  Don't get me wrong, those kitchen shelves seem positively inspired to me, still.  But the other room, which is awkward enough in it's positioning and scale, is not something I'm going to be able to leave.  Boo.  Idea: Good.  Execution: deserved for what I've done to my walls not so good.

I just don't know what to do.  

Perhaps I'll move the frames to the basement, where the blue/green/teal & brown chair will be eventually, and so the color scheme will seem appropriate.  I have a single small wall down there that could hold all of the excitement I tried to spread on 3 large walls upstairs.  

But then, how do I make it feel like Christmas down there, with aqua and teal fighting for attention?  Is this just a bad time of year to introduce non-festive colors?  And don't tell me to decorate for Christmas with Blue.  

Blasphemy.

Here is my inspiration.  I know I need... more.  More frames, more things-that-are-not-frames... just more.  Please feel free to ply me with suggestions.

From her site

From here

No Longer Frozen

ASIDE: Do you know what I just thought??  Of course you don't.  What I just thought is that I should have put up a picture, on thanksgiving, of the turkey straight out of the oven.  That would be the entire post, and the title??

BOOM.  Roasted.

Wouldn't that have been perfect?!? *sigh*  Is it a bad sign I started with an aside?  I surely hope not.

Our house, you know, we're newly moved in and all that jazz?  At least I keep telling myself that we're still "newly" moved in, although I'm not sure how long I can keep milking it.  ANYhow, the house was remodeled before we moved in, and the contractor chose the bold color scheme of beige on beige with beige accents.  And now that I think of it, there's probably some highlights of beige in there somewhere.

It's a statement maker, that's for sure. ~dripping with sarcasm~

Anyhow, I've got these large walls, all painted and beige and, well... empty.

That emptiness of the walls had left me frozen.  Sort of like the first page of a diary - too much pressure.

ASIDE: I always skip the first page of a new journal and start on the second which somehow, although it's still the first page with writing, is totally devoid of pressure and importance.  In my opinion.

Well, my Madre and S-Padre were  in town, and S-Padre is a real do-er.  Last time he came down and I didn't have work for him to do, he went insane in the brain.  This time, I had a whole list, like getting the bathroom doors to shut (check) and ridding my house of devil-squirrels (maybe check?).  Something about all of his "do-ing" has unfrozen me, and might have unleashed a monster.

This is my favorite frame, so I didn't paint it.

Squirrel Hole of Death

Handsome picked me up today.  He apologized for being late.  Then he proceeded to tell me the most horrifying story every.

Here's the long and the short of it:

Or the short and the long of it, depending on how you measure.

**FTR: There isn't supposed to be am image there.  This is just a representation of the size of the Squirrel hole of death, to scale.  Thank you.  That is all.**

There's a hole about yea big, and its right beside my chimley and under my eaves.  Squirrels have been using it as their front door for it appears years.  Then Handsome tells me that he's busy/gone for the next 17 days, and so it's either my problem, or it's going to have to wait.  I think I'm going to be sick, and am hereby placing our house on the market.  Can I stay with you??

I know they watch me sleep,

TFW

Doing New Things

Yesterday was so good, so busy, so "Getting Crap Done"-awesome that I just didn't even have time to tell you all (still can't "y'all") about it.  Really, it was wonderful.  Afternoon classes were cancelled, because of a job fair.  

Who goes to job fairs?  People looking to gain employment.  Who is not looking to gain employment?  Yours truly!  (Ha!  A job!  A person would have to graduate from, and then not go back to, school in order to get one of those...)  So that left me off the hook for the afternoon (homework and pending research aside).

I headed out to our local Habitat for Humanity thrift store.  This was key as they are only open during certain obscure hours, and I've been trying to go out there to look for (a) a refrigerator, (b) a dresser, or (c) anything that looks necessary to the success of our new home-ownership-ness.

Well, the only refrigerator there was born before I was.  That is my number one rule of appliances - never by anything older than me.  Someday, when there are little people running around and I want something new, I might amend that to read "Never by any appliance older than the youngest person in your house."  Just for future reference.

So no fridge, but I did score this awesome table for $10!  I plan to use it for crafting/homeworking in our 3rd spare oohm when we move.

It's more awesome when it's set up than it looks here.
Really, I don't think there is much that looks totally awesome, stacked behind the weed-eater and covered in cardboard.
[except YOUR MOM!]

Also, something (I was going to say The Spirit, but I'm thinking not) came over me, and I stepped out of my comfort zone.  Really, this was a stretch for me.  I...  bought... 

... decorations!

I think the thought of having my own house has started to change me!
I might keep fruit in the basket.
I <3 that basket.

Can you believe it?!  I'm having trouble myself, and I'm the one who carried them around the store for 20 minutes, then finally paid the *quickmath* $7.97 for the whole lot and hauled them home.  It wasn't the best deal I've ever found (see above), but I was afraid that if I waited for the blue tags to be 50% off, someone else would snatch them up.

Apparently Handsome also had some trouble believing, as we had the following conversation about 30 minutes after I had showed them to him.  We had moved on to other things, talked, been quiet, and even had lunch, when this came up:

H: What did you say those were for?

M: I told you, I think they're decorations.

H: What for?  What are you going to do with them?

M: Well, from what I understand, people decorate with them.

H: Where are you going to put it?  You're just going to set a pot down and call it a decoration?

M: No, I thought I would maybe put them on a shelf together, with a potted flower or something.

H: That is homosexual.  A pot with flowers beside it?  Really?

(a) I understand his use of the word "homosexual" might offend some people.  sorry.  As a note, there is another, much more offensive Handsome story coming up at the end, and if you care to retain any affection for us at all, please stop reading if this one offended you.  It gets much worse.

(b) I wish you could imagine the incredulity on his face when he asked the last 2 questions.  Like I had suggested we stuff Duke and put him on a shelf with flowers.  Which has also been discussed from time to time in our home.  I can't explain these things.

Serious Gardening ROI

Everyone loves a good return on investment (ROI).  Myself especially.  Well, probably not "especially," just "as much as the next guy" more than likely.  I don't really think that I've got the market on wanting a good return.  Actually, I've got a kind of "easy come, easy go" type of mentality, so maybe I'm really not at all near the "especially" range.

Anyhow, I can appreciate when I get a lot of stuff for very minimal effort.  Like swag.  I love going to career fairs, because I just pick up all the stuff with names printed on it.  Chic-fil-A reusable shopping bag, sure!  BMW  pen/USB drive, thanks a bunch!  How does this tie in?  More in a moment.

This will most likely be the last post I write about gardening, because we seem to have come to the end of the garden.  It's going in a natural way, nothing abrupt or traumatic.  I came home from the North, and found that my tomato worms had developed a taste for sweet peppers.  Little *#&?@!, I don't like them at all, and I killed 2 the size of my thumb this morning.

The worms left my plants all nubby and forlorn.
Or wait, maybe I'm the forlorn one...

I've come to accept that this is the end of the road.  My lettuce has gone to seed, I've somehow managed to kill the zucchini plants, and the onions never really got off the ground anyhow.  We've had a good run, this garden and I.  School is starting, and its just the natural course of things that our Summer romance would come to an end.

The tomato plants are officially too big for their britches.
If you replace "britches" with "cages", that is.
There's a few fruits left, but I think its an over-abundance of N_2 that's killing our production here.
In case you wondered.

House Hunting

We went and looked at houses again this weekend.  Just like last weekend.  And I keep checking out realtor.com and zillow and trulia and fsbo.com and forsalebyowner and and and… and I’m tired of it.  I’m a getter-done-er.  Once I make a decision, I like to act on it, make it happen, and boom!, be done with it. 

Apparently, house hunting is not like that.  *understatement of the day*

Its “oh maybe this one, if we built a garage” and “this one needs a new roof and new floors” and “it would be great if only you didn’t have to walk through 3 doors to get to the only downstairs bathroom that consequently has no windows”(true story.  Seemed like a great place to hide from a tornado, thought)… 

The fairytale story I’m holding onto is that, if we were looking in a higher price bracket, we’d have an easier time of it.  Houses would have garages and more than 0.18 acres, and they wouldn’t smell like the carpet was made of cat hair.  In this perfect world, the houses we wanted to afford (because even when we’re playing Happily Ever After, I don’t want to be mortgaged to the hilt) would be painted the same color the whole way around instead of just the parts that they posted pictures of (no lie, peach on 3 sides, blue on the front.  Only picture online: the front.). 

But, from what I hear, even when you go up in the brackets, even when you’ve got Uncle Scrooge’s money problem (i.e.- too much), its still a struggle to find what you want.  For some reason, we people (I’d even suggest that its an American issue more than anything, but maybe not) have to completely personalize “our space,” drawing it out as a representation of ourselves. 

Why you don't Pre-write

Earlier today, I wrote this post, but didn't have the time to put it up:

*******

Please don’t come visit.

Normally, I’m all for having people come over to my house.  I love to be around friends and family, and if I don’t even have to leave my cozy cocoon of a home, all the better.  There’s just something comforting to me about knowing I could go change into sweatpants any time I want, and that I know we have Heinz ketchup and where in the door of the refrigerator to find it.

However, I need to ask something of you.  For the immediately foreseeable future, please don’t come visit me; I’ll visit you.  This is not a brush-off, but really, its not you, its me.  There’s an odor in my house, coming from an indistinguishable source, and full of power.  Seriously, I don’t know where it’s coming from.

It occurs to me that, in light of recent posts and now this mystery stink, no one may want to come visit me anyhow.  But trust me, we cleaned the house this weekend; the whole house.  Like, vacuumed, wiped, washed everything.  Heck, I even invited Mr. Clean to join me in the great refrigerator round-up of ’11.  

There are some fruit rinds in the garbage can, which I’m going to take out here in a minute, and then, everything will be perfectly clean. Once that happens, I’m going to open the windows, turn on the ceiling fans, and light some candles.  Then I might look at my dog and shout, “Lets flush this baby out!  Yeah!”  I might not, but it’s more than likely going to happen.  Probably going to throw a fist pump or two as well.  And then I’ll bow my head and say a quick “please Jesus, make the nasty odor go away,” more out of a goal of praying without ceasing than a hope for a super-natural house cleaning.

Not that I don’t believe God could clean my house with a snap of His fingers, or bring a sweet wind through the place to clear the air; I’m totally on board with God doing anything He desires.  Its just I don’t think He’s aiming to do it all showy like that.  Not that I’m trying to tell him what to do, either.  I’m just sayin’.  If the unexpected happens, I’ll be sure to share it with you.

I’m really not sure why I’m sharing this, other than I like to type, and its better that words come out of it, than just kdowe3jfkndaluf.  I would like to note that I have found that Febreeze and Glade really are a lot more proficient at eliminating air odors than your ordinary run-of-the-mill scenty froo-froo deal.  In case you were wondering.

*******

And now, what am I doing, but preparing my house for an overnight guest.  Mystery smell is lingering, but I've put quite a hurting on it.  Tomorrow, maybe I'll pre-write a post about how no one leaves me $1 million anymore.  Its worth a shot, right?

Ridiculous,

TFW

Easy & Not

There are some things in life that are easy.  Opening a Jello cup.  Easy.  Like, super easy.  It might be the most universally easy task in the world.Think about it; the foil top is practically begging to come off.  Its got a nice big tab, the glue isn't great (try not to think about what this means for the sanitary condition of the contents, I'm sure its fine...), and the cup is a nice size for holding during opening.  In a word (not to berepetitive, but...) its easy.  C'est facile, if you want to know the French phrasing for it.

ASIDE: I can also give you the French translation for other important phrases.  "J'ai perdu mon vache sur la montagne.  Qu'est que tu veux faire a demain ?  Elle a une forte gomme, un perle rose."  "I have lost my cow on the mountain.  What do you want to do tomorrow?  She has a strong eraser, a pink pearl."  I really feel like I'm ready to visit the country.

But when we're talking about things that are easy, something that does not make the list is finding a house to buy. In the rare exception, people findthe perfect house, in the right location, needing a bearable amount of work, at a great price.  Or maybe, when I wrote "in the rare exception", I should have written "Once upon a time, in a land far far away...", because that situation is far removed from any reality I know.

The Hunt is On!

Alrighty folks, this one's gonna be short, but I'm in need of some assistance, and you are my potential assistors.  assisters.  assistants.  I'm not sure how to say it.  What I'm saying is, I need your help.

Handsome and I do this little dance every year, it seems, where we start to get the itch for a home of our own.  Like, to be the person who owns the home.  I'm going to go out on a limb here and just throw these words together.  Sometimes, we want to be homeowners.  And the itch has struck again.

I've been thinking about "When I have a House", as you can see by the Pintrest page that links to.  But its all been in the abstract, because I thought the time when we would have a house of our own was a long ways off.  But then Handsome points out some facts, like how much we've paid in rent these last 3 years, and how cheap houses are, and how much lovely sweating I could do if I had a house of my own to re-no (pronounced  ren-no, as in renovate), and I get to thinking about it for serious.