It's official. I have a house.
I KNOW. I FREAKIN' KNOW!!! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?
It is wonderful. Bliss. Heaven. Paradise. Adam and Eve never had it this good.
The shower. OHMIGOD the shower! Two heads! Walk-in! A window IN THE SHOWER, overlooking the Blue Ridge Mountains. Yeah. I. KNOW.
It is terrible to go on and on about it without showing you pictures yet. I'm sorry, I really am.
BUT OHGAWD THE SHOWER!!!!!
Showing posts with label building a house. Show all posts
Showing posts with label building a house. Show all posts
12.11.2008
11.06.2008
Conflict Resolution
My mom and I have a mediation appointment on Monday with my therapist. He thinks that we will be able to work through this. I'm nervous, anxious, and conflicted with wanting to get this over with versus not wanting to deal with it at all.
I'm doing it. And I'm trying to come at it from a place of love. It is hard to do that and still retain my grasp on how I feel about the situation. But I'm working on it.
A part of me doesn't want to resolve this, because it has been almost blissful being away from this incredibly intense and stressful relationship. But she is my mom, and I guess I'm stuck with her. I might as well make the best of it.
God, this is more nerve-wracking than her actually kicking us out.
But! In good news! We are putting in the flooring, kitchen, and bathrooms this weekend! Squee.
I'm doing it. And I'm trying to come at it from a place of love. It is hard to do that and still retain my grasp on how I feel about the situation. But I'm working on it.
A part of me doesn't want to resolve this, because it has been almost blissful being away from this incredibly intense and stressful relationship. But she is my mom, and I guess I'm stuck with her. I might as well make the best of it.
God, this is more nerve-wracking than her actually kicking us out.
But! In good news! We are putting in the flooring, kitchen, and bathrooms this weekend! Squee.
10.27.2008
Updates, etc.
I just got back from a business trip to NY, and had a fabulous time. Even the "business" part was somewhat entertaining. I have decided I'm moving. But I guess I need a higher-paying job so that I don't look like a walking trash bag, digging in the bins for the next flavor of the month for survival. Anyone hiring? I am multi-talented with a flair for bullshit. Just sayin'.
The best thing about NY? I didn't think about my mother once. Not once. Well, I talked to one of my best girls about it over dinner one night (a delicious french dinner), and she made me feel decidedly better when she said "Your mom is such a drama queen." She and I have been best friends since 7th or 8th grade, so she knows my mom better than a lot of my acquaintances. It just feels good to know that you aren't crazy, you know? To know that my reaction to this entire situation is pretty fucking justified. Blah. Anyway.
So I get off the plane from NY, and saw the coolest thing: A group of monks (I assume), dressed in long black robes, greeted another monk that disembarked from my same flight. They have bells, flowers, and starting singing this beautiful song in their lovely tenor and bass voices. Everyone in the airport stopped and watched as they sang, with obvious joy on their faces, to this man from the plane. They all greeted him with cheek kisses, gave him flowers, broke a loaf of bread with him, and really made my day. You don't often see things like that (especially in Asheville) and it was just downright touching.
Another interesting note: The first voicemail I get when I get off the plane was my mom. She said she misses me, she loves me, and hopes I'm doing ok. I actually felt pretty good about this until I had a conversation with my husband over lunch. While I was gone, he talked with her about a few logistical things involving our house, and ultimately the discussion turned to this whole drama of her kicking us out. She basically said that I need to grow up. Yeah. All that does is confirm that fact that she is nowhere close to realizing what she has done, and for me solidifies that I am doing the right thing by having nothing to do with her right now. Once again, as she has done throughout my life, she is projecting, and now that I can recognize that and not question my instincts and feelings about it, I realize how far apart we really are, and probably have been for a long time now. I feel sorry for her. I do. But it doesn't make me want to repeat the agonizing cycle of prostrating myself for her so that she is no longer upset (a cycle that has been going on with us since I was three years old. "If I make Mommy happy, she won't be angry at me anymore and she will love me." A hard realization, but ultimately and good one for my soul.)
I know that I will eventually talk to her. I mean, I'm not going to cut her out of my life completely, and she will be my next door neighbor for the next two years at least. I know that I will talk to her, but I also know not to expect her to react the way I want her to react. She is who she is, and the best I can do is accept that and continue living my life. But one thing is for sure: I will not let her manipulate my feelings or force me to do things I don't want to do just because it will make her happy. I'm over that. And that is how I know that I have grown up. As painful as it is, I have grown up.
On a happier note, our house is getting very very close to being finished. This weekend, we install the flooring, the kitchen, and the bathrooms, and the next weekend is our painting party. After that, we will be days away from living there, and that is a good good feeling. To have a home that we have had a choice in every thing you see, to have a home that is perfect for my little family. Hell, just to have a home. Bliss.
I have a good life.
Oh, and one of my oldest friends and I--we've known each other since 3rd grade--are starting a band. So I'll also keep you updated on that progress as well.
Thank you all for your much needed and heartfelt support. I can honestly say that I have family all across the world, some family that I've never even seen their faces. But family all the same. Love you guys more than you know.
-Boo
The best thing about NY? I didn't think about my mother once. Not once. Well, I talked to one of my best girls about it over dinner one night (a delicious french dinner), and she made me feel decidedly better when she said "Your mom is such a drama queen." She and I have been best friends since 7th or 8th grade, so she knows my mom better than a lot of my acquaintances. It just feels good to know that you aren't crazy, you know? To know that my reaction to this entire situation is pretty fucking justified. Blah. Anyway.
So I get off the plane from NY, and saw the coolest thing: A group of monks (I assume), dressed in long black robes, greeted another monk that disembarked from my same flight. They have bells, flowers, and starting singing this beautiful song in their lovely tenor and bass voices. Everyone in the airport stopped and watched as they sang, with obvious joy on their faces, to this man from the plane. They all greeted him with cheek kisses, gave him flowers, broke a loaf of bread with him, and really made my day. You don't often see things like that (especially in Asheville) and it was just downright touching.
Another interesting note: The first voicemail I get when I get off the plane was my mom. She said she misses me, she loves me, and hopes I'm doing ok. I actually felt pretty good about this until I had a conversation with my husband over lunch. While I was gone, he talked with her about a few logistical things involving our house, and ultimately the discussion turned to this whole drama of her kicking us out. She basically said that I need to grow up. Yeah. All that does is confirm that fact that she is nowhere close to realizing what she has done, and for me solidifies that I am doing the right thing by having nothing to do with her right now. Once again, as she has done throughout my life, she is projecting, and now that I can recognize that and not question my instincts and feelings about it, I realize how far apart we really are, and probably have been for a long time now. I feel sorry for her. I do. But it doesn't make me want to repeat the agonizing cycle of prostrating myself for her so that she is no longer upset (a cycle that has been going on with us since I was three years old. "If I make Mommy happy, she won't be angry at me anymore and she will love me." A hard realization, but ultimately and good one for my soul.)
I know that I will eventually talk to her. I mean, I'm not going to cut her out of my life completely, and she will be my next door neighbor for the next two years at least. I know that I will talk to her, but I also know not to expect her to react the way I want her to react. She is who she is, and the best I can do is accept that and continue living my life. But one thing is for sure: I will not let her manipulate my feelings or force me to do things I don't want to do just because it will make her happy. I'm over that. And that is how I know that I have grown up. As painful as it is, I have grown up.
On a happier note, our house is getting very very close to being finished. This weekend, we install the flooring, the kitchen, and the bathrooms, and the next weekend is our painting party. After that, we will be days away from living there, and that is a good good feeling. To have a home that we have had a choice in every thing you see, to have a home that is perfect for my little family. Hell, just to have a home. Bliss.
I have a good life.
Oh, and one of my oldest friends and I--we've known each other since 3rd grade--are starting a band. So I'll also keep you updated on that progress as well.
Thank you all for your much needed and heartfelt support. I can honestly say that I have family all across the world, some family that I've never even seen their faces. But family all the same. Love you guys more than you know.
-Boo
10.13.2008
Mommy Dearest
Ok, are you ready for this?
With five weeks left until we can move into our new home, the woman I knew as "Mom" has kicked my husband and I out of her basement where we are living (if you can call it that) while we are building a house.
...
She told me this while I was at work on Friday. There was no fight. There was no drug-running from the basement. No broken windows. No band practice. No exorbitant power bills. The reason? She and her boyfriend need privacy.
To say that I'm reeling is a drastic understatement. To say that I'm devastated is closer to the truth. To say that I've never felt so alone in my entire life is pretty spot on. I feel like my mom has died--that is how out of character this is.
She told me this over the phone. I sobbed at work. I went for a walk and came back. I sobbed more.
She has yet to look at me, much less speak to me.
Luckily for me and my little family unit, we have an amazing support system. Within 2 hours of finding out I have nowhere to live, we had secured a place to live in rent free with our animals until we can finish the house.
Oh yeah, did I mention that we are just now beginning to do our finishing work on the house? The house that I WAS living 30 feet from in order to make that work more convenient, but now have to travel 30 minutes one way to reach? Did I mention that we are doing all the flooring, building the kitchen, building both bathrooms, painting, and running the trim? Did I mention that? Because I think the woman I called "mom" has forgotten. Strange, she is only 51. Early onset Alzheimer's? I wish.
So tonight marks our first night in a being-remodeled rental. The hubs and I are finishing the remodel work in the rental in exchange for the place to stay. And we are finishing our house at the same time. Awesome.
I might be a bit M.I.A. for the next couple of weeks, but when our house is done I promise I'll have pictures.
Does anyone know what to do when your mom decides you are no longer a part of her life? Because these are new and risky waters for me. I could use a good word. Maybe I can get a mix from Ms. Mix & Bitch.
With five weeks left until we can move into our new home, the woman I knew as "Mom" has kicked my husband and I out of her basement where we are living (if you can call it that) while we are building a house.
...
She told me this while I was at work on Friday. There was no fight. There was no drug-running from the basement. No broken windows. No band practice. No exorbitant power bills. The reason? She and her boyfriend need privacy.
To say that I'm reeling is a drastic understatement. To say that I'm devastated is closer to the truth. To say that I've never felt so alone in my entire life is pretty spot on. I feel like my mom has died--that is how out of character this is.
She told me this over the phone. I sobbed at work. I went for a walk and came back. I sobbed more.
She has yet to look at me, much less speak to me.
Luckily for me and my little family unit, we have an amazing support system. Within 2 hours of finding out I have nowhere to live, we had secured a place to live in rent free with our animals until we can finish the house.
Oh yeah, did I mention that we are just now beginning to do our finishing work on the house? The house that I WAS living 30 feet from in order to make that work more convenient, but now have to travel 30 minutes one way to reach? Did I mention that we are doing all the flooring, building the kitchen, building both bathrooms, painting, and running the trim? Did I mention that? Because I think the woman I called "mom" has forgotten. Strange, she is only 51. Early onset Alzheimer's? I wish.
So tonight marks our first night in a being-remodeled rental. The hubs and I are finishing the remodel work in the rental in exchange for the place to stay. And we are finishing our house at the same time. Awesome.
I might be a bit M.I.A. for the next couple of weeks, but when our house is done I promise I'll have pictures.
Does anyone know what to do when your mom decides you are no longer a part of her life? Because these are new and risky waters for me. I could use a good word. Maybe I can get a mix from Ms. Mix & Bitch.
8.25.2008
Photo Love: Building a House
It is finally happening. Finally. Our new house has WALLS. Yes, they are unfinished, but there they are, standing tall. Framed and waiting.
8.22.2008
7.29.2008
7.28.2008
Red Sea, Take II
Moses (me) dropped the ball (dropped a box) and his people drowned (and I sprained my foot) so he (I) is screwed (am screwed) for the rest of the journey (for the rest of the move).
Awesome.
Awesome.
7.24.2008
The Promised Land: Parting the Red Sea
Way back in April of 2007, my hubs and I bought some property. We sold our condo for a "sweet little profit" as my realtor likes say, and started the process of building our own home.
As of today, we are moving for the third time since that April of 2007, and we are NOT moving into our new home. Yet.
It is so close; I can almost lick it. But we are only nearing the hardest part: Finishing the house ourselves. So, we are moving into the basement of the brand new house next door (that would be my mom's pad--story for another day). An unfinished basement. Our entire house. And we will be there for probably the next two months.
Can I tell you what it is like, living with most of your stuff in storage for a year and a half? It is actually pretty cool; I've realized how little I need all this "stuff" that I constantly collect. Now that we are packing up the things we brought to our rental (aka flea bag central, if you were a reader last summer), I just want to throw the boxes in the back of our truck, drive to goodwill, put the tailgate down, reverse into the parking lot really really fast, and hit the brakes. Thud. Boom. Gone.
Simplify simplify simplify. That is what screams through my mind at times like these. Times when I am once again rolling up some delicate little thing that someone gave us one time for the 5th time, putting it in the box, only to pull it out later and put it back on a fucking shelf. Ridiculous.
Anyway, we are moving this weekend. Again. AND! (and this is a very strange happening, especially in my family) every member of my immediate family is ALSO moving this weekend. Guess what that means? No help moving for any of us. It is actually kind of funny; my mom is moving into her brand new house (which totally rocks--I'll post pictures at some point, I think), my brother is moving into his first-time-owner home, and my baby sister might be moving to a different apartment. She doesn't know yet; she still doesn't technically have a place to move to.
Our house should be done by late September. Me and SuperHubs are doing all the painting, trimwork, floors, and putting in our own kitchen. The WHOLE kitchen-caboodle. (See what I did there? Yep.)
So it is like Moses, taking the peeps to the promised land, but now he's got to part the Red Sea. So we are getting geared up to part some sea.
I'm way to busy to be clever today.
Laters.
Boo
As of today, we are moving for the third time since that April of 2007, and we are NOT moving into our new home. Yet.
It is so close; I can almost lick it. But we are only nearing the hardest part: Finishing the house ourselves. So, we are moving into the basement of the brand new house next door (that would be my mom's pad--story for another day). An unfinished basement. Our entire house. And we will be there for probably the next two months.
Can I tell you what it is like, living with most of your stuff in storage for a year and a half? It is actually pretty cool; I've realized how little I need all this "stuff" that I constantly collect. Now that we are packing up the things we brought to our rental (aka flea bag central, if you were a reader last summer), I just want to throw the boxes in the back of our truck, drive to goodwill, put the tailgate down, reverse into the parking lot really really fast, and hit the brakes. Thud. Boom. Gone.
Simplify simplify simplify. That is what screams through my mind at times like these. Times when I am once again rolling up some delicate little thing that someone gave us one time for the 5th time, putting it in the box, only to pull it out later and put it back on a fucking shelf. Ridiculous.
Anyway, we are moving this weekend. Again. AND! (and this is a very strange happening, especially in my family) every member of my immediate family is ALSO moving this weekend. Guess what that means? No help moving for any of us. It is actually kind of funny; my mom is moving into her brand new house (which totally rocks--I'll post pictures at some point, I think), my brother is moving into his first-time-owner home, and my baby sister might be moving to a different apartment. She doesn't know yet; she still doesn't technically have a place to move to.
Our house should be done by late September. Me and SuperHubs are doing all the painting, trimwork, floors, and putting in our own kitchen. The WHOLE kitchen-caboodle. (See what I did there? Yep.)
So it is like Moses, taking the peeps to the promised land, but now he's got to part the Red Sea. So we are getting geared up to part some sea.
I'm way to busy to be clever today.
Laters.
Boo
4.30.2008
Hump Day Bullets
- I want more ink. Like, now. (That would be the tattoo type ink. Not, like, quill ink.)
- I usually love my job, but I have hit a huge motivation pothole, and it popped my fucking tires.
- Our house is a-getting built! Woooo hooo! The kitchen is going to have that cool half door where you can open just the top or just the bottom or both. I heart options!
- My friend Not-So-Modest Mouse is a baaaad blog updater, but an awesome fucking YouTube treasure hunter. Unicorn Planet HEYYY! And damn if I will ever NOT drink Guinness without a straw. Ever again.
- I'm itching to grow a garden and start canning. And making fresh salsa. And drinking margaritas.
- Me and hubs are going to Mexico HEYYY!
- My mom (guh, I can't believe I'm about to say this) asked me for advice about sex toys. shakes head violently to prevent mental images. FUCK. Didn't work. AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!
4.02.2008
How to NOT Build a House
1. Hire a contractor.
2. Make sure said contractor is disguising a serious mental imbalance.
3. Make plans with contractor.
4. After he completes the foundation, make sure he waits at least 6 months before doing anything else to the house.
5. Try to call contractor repeatedly. Make sure he does not call you back.
6. Fire contractor.
7. Re-hire contractor after he has a breakdown, loses 40 pounds, tells you his wife has breast cancer, and that he has crews lined up and waiting to work on your house.
8. Hear nothing from contractor for another month.
9. Call contractor; leave him a message. Make sure he doesn't call you back. Ever.
10. Find out that contractor has a b12 imbalance, and was rushed to the hospital.
11. Hear from contractor's wife. Make sure she blames you for his health problems.
12. Discover the contractor has been committed to a mental institution and has no contact with his family.
13. Re-fire contractor.
14. Hire new contractor.
2. Make sure said contractor is disguising a serious mental imbalance.
3. Make plans with contractor.
4. After he completes the foundation, make sure he waits at least 6 months before doing anything else to the house.
5. Try to call contractor repeatedly. Make sure he does not call you back.
6. Fire contractor.
7. Re-hire contractor after he has a breakdown, loses 40 pounds, tells you his wife has breast cancer, and that he has crews lined up and waiting to work on your house.
8. Hear nothing from contractor for another month.
9. Call contractor; leave him a message. Make sure he doesn't call you back. Ever.
10. Find out that contractor has a b12 imbalance, and was rushed to the hospital.
11. Hear from contractor's wife. Make sure she blames you for his health problems.
12. Discover the contractor has been committed to a mental institution and has no contact with his family.
13. Re-fire contractor.
14. Hire new contractor.
2.29.2008
I'm Afraid This is Only the Beginning
So, long story really really short:
We fired our contractor. He had a panic attack* and went to the hospital. He gave us a new (amazing) offer. We re-hired our contractor.
Moral: Panic attacks are good for business**.
*It is never my intention to send someone to the hospital. Unless it is my intention. But in this case, it definitely wasn't.
**God, I'm horrible.
We fired our contractor. He had a panic attack* and went to the hospital. He gave us a new (amazing) offer. We re-hired our contractor.
Moral: Panic attacks are good for business**.
*It is never my intention to send someone to the hospital. Unless it is my intention. But in this case, it definitely wasn't.
**God, I'm horrible.
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