New Little Old House

Our carpet job yesterday was quick and dirty, but it’ll do. We used a remnant piece that we got on sale for less than 40 bucks. At that price I don’t care if it doesn’t last forever.

Thank goodness that furniture has a way of distracting from carpet and paint flaws. I just tossed the furniture we used to have in the porch back in there; eventually we’ll figure out how to make it more functional for us. The table serves as a great hiding place for a few things we wanted to store. We use the table more for yard parties than for regular use in the porch, so it’s fine in the corner.

We have come a long way.

I kind of like that this is one area for which I can take credit since I give Sam the props for most of what our home has become. My contributions during and since pale in comparison to the year he spent transforming this little house. So the porch, imperfect as it is, makes me kind of proud.

We know that the porch is falling off the house and needs to be completely rebuilt someday. All of this work has just been a disguise. We’ve talked about starting  over: tearing off the porch, expanding the front bedroom (now office) into some of the current porch space to create a decently sized master and closet. That would cut the porch to about half of its current size. We even had a contractor give us an informal cost estimate; the price wasn’t that outrageous.

Will we ever do it? Who knows. It would depend most heavily on how long we want to stay here. We’re happy for now and not looking to go anywhere. We’ve got dreams, though, of other homes and other places in which they would be. (You should see what I’ve been Pinteresting.) But we’re not in any rush. I’m happy to have our porch made over for now— it’s a much better place to welcome guests and watch the seasons go by.

I wrote several weeks ago that I just wanted a comfortable spot to relax with a glass of wine. That’s exactly what I did yesterday evening, curled under a blanket in my porch.

I’ve moved a lot in seven years since starting college: in and out of two dorm rooms, two apartments, and four houses (including several short stints back with my parents). Being in one place that’s fully mine feels pretty dang good these days. However, it’s fun to look back at my other homes, especially during this back-to-school season.

Overall, I’m surprised at how few photos I took of my different domiciles. I lived in an entire house for a year during Lutheran Volunteer Corps, yet I only have four photos of my bedroom and none of the rest of my home. I have zero photos of the home I lived in for a few months after LVC. And most of the photos I took over the years were shortly after I had moved in to the respective place, while the space was still transforming. At least there will be no dearth of photos of this house!

First off is my freshman dorm room in the Dowling Hall basement: 

I actually liked this room just fine, despite its ugly basement status. Eventually my roommate and I put a couch in that that empty corner, which was a big improvement. That year I had a weird affinity for trimming everything out in ribbon. My roommate was much less into that froofy style, but it definitely persisted in “my” part of the room.

Sophomore year I moved from the bottom floor to the top. This was the first of three places I shared with my best friend Jenny. Our dorm room was cute and we got paid to show it off on prospective-student tours.

The room may have been small, but that didn’t stop us from having (lots) of friends over! It’s weird to look back at what used to be my “group.”

The next year, we moved into a campus apartment in Morrison Hall. It was still a generic space, but at least I got my own bedroom!

This was in September, and I obviously hadn’t yet really grasped the concept of filling big walls with big objects.

My senior year was a different apartment in the same building. My bedroom had a Minneapolis skyline view, which I really liked. I remember this room as being really cozy and comfortable.

This next bedroom is probably my favorite ever, and I’m really sad I don’t have better photos. This was in Imani House, where I lived in intentional community during my Lutheran Volunteer Corps year.

Our house had been converted from a duplex to a single-family home. This room was the smallest, and it had formerly been the other kitchen. The quirkiness really grew on me: the wall of cabinetry (the bread board made a good pull-out desk), the crazy shaped door that they built to fit the arched doorway, and the bright colors. 

I must have taken this picture in my first few days in Imani, because I quickly painted the countertop a crimson color, which matched the blanket on the chair. I loved how I brought primary colors into this room.

I always thought I disliked yellow bedroom walls until I lived in this room. Now our current bedroom walls are yellow, too.

Notice those sheer white curtains that served many functions in my different homes, though they never covered a window. Those were a free find in my parents’ linen closet. I must admit that I’m still using one of them as a drapey valance thing in my office at the shelter. 

The green blanket in most of these photos is still on my chair. It’s really interesting to see what things I still have in use somewhere and what has gone by the wayside.

Thanks for indulging me on my trip down Memory Lane!

Saturday was my only day off until at least September 4. I spent six hours of it working on the porch and yard—exactly what I had been looking forward to all week. It seems backwards that I like to work on my days off, especially when I get so few of them between two jobs. But I find much of the work around here relaxing.

I don’t love all housework: I will always loathe laundry and I can’t get excited about dishes. This place is not spotless. But I really enjoy cooking, gardening, yardwork, decorating, and taking on big improvement projects. Sometimes the work itself is enjoyable: it can be creative, meditative, calming, and often an excuse to enjoy some fresh air. More often than not, though, what I like best is the finished result. There’s a unique sense of accomplishment when you create something that you’ll get to enjoy every day. I find it way more satisfying than doing the same projects for someone else; I’d much rather work on our home than our rental duplex any day.

I think the value of homemaking is right in the word: making home. Creating your own space that’s more than just a house. Taking an active role in a sanctuary that reflects and nurtures you. Having this house is an enormous privilege and we’d be remiss if we didn’t value it, didn’t make it our home.

I often find myself doing matronly, homemaking-esque tasks on the sly, for fear my 21st century liberators and peers might deem me regressing to an inappropriate era…

Personally, I like the apron, red lipstick, laundry, and occasionally the strappy heel.  I vote the bra, floor mopping, ironing, and dishes-immediately-after-dinner off the island. We share the chores and manage delgation by what we don’t each hate, which works out rather nicely.

My point in all this is, lest we confuse “traditional” with “bad” or “inefficient”, let’s think of other words to describe a return to sincere, earnest, and economical values… 

Home is not the enemy, so why do we continue to treat all things home with aversion and disdain?