The Full Monty :: Backyard

The backyard is narrow but long. Totally overgrown in the spring and summer, I took these photos just before Christmas when everything has died back and the property can really be seen. When the house comes down, most of these trees come down with it. They are either crappy trees or just too close to the proposed new structure. We are saving just two, of the close to 30, trees on the property.

The Full Monty :: Second Floor

It's time to explore the second floor. Follow me if you will...

Yup! A shower fully encased in mirrors. There is even a mirror on the ceiling. I'm not kidding. And no, we are not keeping this.

The Full Monty :: First Floor

Welcome to the house...

Coffee is for Closers - Part 3

We left the vet's office with an empty cat carrier and heavy hearts. I had red-swollen eyes, a sore throat and a splitting headache from all the crying and stress. And we still hadn't dealt with the real biggie of the day… the closing. We drove back home in time for me to put Simone down for a nap, wash my face, reapply mascara and pick-up Tate at his friend's house. We then raced home to meet Nana, who was watching the kids while Dave and I went to the lawyer's office to sign on the dotted lines and finally become the owners of one really crappy, little house.

I walked into the lawyer's office in a trance-like state. A bit of an out-of-body experience, as I was weak from not eating all day and exhausted already from earlier events. I was prepared to spend a hour signing my name on pages and pages of documents, before being handed a new set of keys. However, when you buy a house without a mortgage, there are only two pieces of paper to sign. That's it. Two. We were done in less than five minutes. I have to say it was rather anticlimactic. Done in under five.

Though, what should have been an extremely happy and joyous day, was so overshadowed by the death of Matisse, that we went home, had dinner and just plopped on the couch for the rest of the night. There was no popping of champagne corks, no celebratory sensation in the air. Just exhaustion and a feeling of thankfulness that we actually made it through the day.

So, we'll save our champagne toasts for the day the old house gets knocked down. Or the day the new foundation is poured. Or the day the last workers clear out of the new house and hand over our keys. We have lots of amazing events to look forward to and celebrate soon. There is plenty of time for champagne and wine and jubilation.

Coffee is for Closers - Part 2

While Dave was off being judged on his ethics, I was home receiving the phone call from the vet that Matisse, our 15 year old cat, was in total renal failure. Her exact words were something like, "Judging by these test numbers, I don't think his kidneys are working at all. You should really think about what you want to do."

The Saturday before, Tate caught a glimpse of the ever skittish Matisse from the corner of his eye and pounced just in time to catch the sleek and stealthy black cat in his grasp. We let Tate hold him for a few minutes, as it was very rare that Tate got to even pet this cat. When we finally made Tate release him, we noticed that Matisse was limping a bit. Later in the day, he wasn't really any better and that's when we realized that he hadn't been eating all that much recently either, and seemed to have experienced a very quick weight loss. Sunday, we kept him quiet and he spent most of the day in our bedroom which is rare. Not once did he venture upstairs to his favorite hide-away. Monday, I called the vet and brought him in for some tests. They suspected renal problems and rehydrated him and did some bloodwork to determine what we were dealing with. Their advice was that he might not be all that bad, and that we could probably keep him comfortable and happy for a while with regular hydration. So there, in the vet's office, while Tate looked on and Simone screamed in the vet tech's arms, I learned how to administer sub-cutaneous fluids to a kitty. That first needle poke was rather frightening for me, but Matisse took it like a champ. He was always a very accommodating cat. I took him home that afternoon, planning on becoming Florence Nightengale to my ever stoic, regal little boy. If I had to stick him with a needle every day, I would do it, so that he would feel better. He was a super sweet cat, and it was worth putting in the effort for him.

However, the next day I answered the call from the vet that confirmed he was sicker than we hoped, and that he really had no hope for survival beyond a few days. When Dave came home from the Ethics Commission meeting, we squirreled away from the kids to talk about what we were going to do. It was one of the hardest conversations we've ever had. How do you discuss putting down one of your animals? What's the right thing thing to say? No matter how much you know your doing the right thing, your still making a decision to kill a cat you've cared about for 15 years. We were devastated for us, we loved that cat. And we were devasted for Tate, it was the first time he would lose something he really loved. We called the vet and made an appointment for 1pm, and then arranged for Tate to go to a friend's house. We took photos of us with Matisse while saying our good-byes. Packed everyone up, dropped Tate at his friend Grace's house and then drove to Providence.

When we arrived in the vet's office, we were quickly ushered into a room to await the event. I really don't think I can find the words to describe how I felt at that moment. Or during. It was so hard. And so sad. But we held him as he went to sleep and then dropped tears onto his fur as he took his last breathe. He knew he was loved, and in that moment it was the best we could do.

I remember the day we got him. My then boss's mom's cat had babies under the porch of her house in Newport. The kittens were wrapped up in the umbilical cord and needed to be untangled. One of the kittens didn't make it. Eight weeks later, I was picking out one of the kittens to take home. I was smart and chose the only kitten NOT climbing the curtains in the house. He was a great cat. So regal and so well-behaved. He would hide for strangers, but was always present for us. He was so cool that he even played fetch. Our dog doesn't even play fetch, but Matisse did! I was crying while writing this and crying while choosing photos for this post.

I will always miss that boy. He was special.

That's one check for the sad/negative column.

Up next… the closing.

Coffee is for Closers - Part 1

The day of the closing was among one of the more emotionally draining days I've ever had in my life. It was filled with a lot of events that brought with them highs and lows, stresses and reliefs, indecision and decisions. I feel like I've been slowing down on posts, knowing that I was coming to this day and not really wanting to relive it through writing about it. I've been trying to avoid this day. But telling the story, means telling the whole story… so, for better or worse, here it goes.

1. Rhode Island Ethics Commission Hearing

The house lot we bought is small. It's 8000 square feet and only 50 feet wide. I've explained before that it meant we would have to go before the town's Zoning Board to request variances for the side yard and front yard setbacks as well as lot coverage… meaning we wanted to build beyond what was allowed and needed special permission to do so. Dave is on the Zoning Board, the same board we needed to go before and present our case. Before we made the offer, Dave checked to see if that would be allowed. He was told that it was probably fine, he'd just have to recuse himself from the vote, obviously. The next day we made the offer. Then two days later Dave talked to the board's lawyer, who had been on vacation the week before and was told he should really talk to the RI Ethics Commission (EC) to make sure. So he did. What we found out after talking to two different people at the EC was that Dave would actually have to present his case before the Ethics Commission and be granted a hardship variance in order to be allowed to then go before the Zoning Board for our building variance. If the EC said no, that it was not ethical for Dave to present before and seek a decision from a board that was an active member on, then we had only one course of action. Quit the zoning board and then wait a year before we could present before them.

A YEAR!?!?! Oh no. We didn't have a year we could wait. Not financially. Not emotionally. Not physically. Plus, we had entered into a contract to buy a property that we could not build on without a variance. If we backed out of the deal, we would lose the sizable deposit we made when we signed the Purchase and Sales Agreement. Talk about being between a rock and hard place. Up shit's creek without a paddle. Just plain screwed.

The EC's lawyer told Dave that she would be recommending that the board approve our request and that typically a person can act on that before going in front of the board, but that in our case we should not move forward because there was no recent case law precedent on what we were asking for. The most recent precedent (similiar case that was approved) was from 1998 and the make-up of the EC then was very different from the current EC, so they may not be of the same mindset. There should be no reason to say no to us, but if life teaches us anything, it's that nothing is guaranteed.

The hearing before the Ethics Commission was scheduled for the morning of our closing. Of course it was.

At 9am we would learn if we could go before the Zoning Board and at 4pm we would close on a property that absolutely needed a variance to build on. If the Ethics Commission did not go our way, we could back out of the closing and lose our deposit. But we could back out... if absolutely necessary.

At 9am, Dave arrived in Providence at the offices for the Ethics Commission and moments before entering the meeting learned that there were only five members of the EC present. Five members was quorum, but we also needed five "yeas" to be granted the permission we needed. We needed a unanimous YES.

Dave walked out of the meeting and called me immediately, "We received unanimous approval!"

We were deemed ethical!

One check in the happy/positive column.

Next up… dying cat.

Lien on me.

When we made the offer on the property, we did so with the incentive of closing whenever the owner wanted to close. Sixty days? OK. Thirty? No problem. Two weeks? Why the hell not. We had already secured a home equity line on our current house, and that, along with a no-interest-parental loan, meant we were ready to go whenever.

The owner decided to close on the house in thirty days, so we planned accordingly. We hired a lawyer to handle the legalities, doubled checked on all our financing and were ready to take ownership on June 22nd.

Shortly after Mr. D passed away, his girlfriend moved out of the house. Now mind you that he was in his 70’s and this very nice woman had been living with him for probably over 20 years, using the term girlfriend may be accurate, but it doesn’t quite do the relationship justice. Anyway, that is when the house became empty. The neighborhood stories professed that she was asked to cease residing in the house by his family and that there was some animosity and bad blood between them. We heard that there were legal battles over the ownership of the house, and after it became empty and sat so long, it seemed that this may well be true.

When we made the offer on the house, we were informed by the listing agent that the current owner of the house was Mr. D’s wife who resides in Florida and has been there since splitting up with Mr. D in 1981. However, they were never divorced and the house was in her name only - never in Mr. D’s. So, that leaves Mr. D with a wife in Florida and a girlfriend in Barrington and no real ownership of any home of his own. The girlfriend had indeed put a lien on the house under the argument that she had been residing there for over 20 years, helping to pay the mortgage, taxes, upkeep and utilities, and therefore, in the event of a sale, was entitled to either all or a portion of the proceeds of the house - that was never in her name nor even her boyfriend’s. The listing agent said that the matter was settled and would not cause any problems with us buying the property.

GREAT!!

Until, a week before our closing was scheduled to take place we received a sheepish sounding call from the listing agent. “I was just informed that the matter is not settled and that it is actually going before a judge two days from now for a decision.” Hmmmm.... I asked what that meant for us and our closing date.

1. If the judge ruled for the wife - meaning she got all money from the sale - then the girlfriend has the opportunity to appeal the decision and continue to tie up the property in the lien putting off our closing.

2. If the judge ruled for the girlfriend - meaning she gets all or a portion of the money from the sale - then the wife has the opportunity to appeal and again continue to tie up the property and put off our closing.

3. The judge could continue the hearing and make no decision - you guessed it - further tieing up the property in the lien, putting off our closing.

It didn’t look good. The listing agent assured us of two things. First, that the wife was tired of this dragging on and was prepared to accept whatever decision was made and just wanted to get on with her life. Secondly, that the girlfriend had been dropped by her first lawyer because she couldn’t pay, and therefore, would not have the money to appeal a decision not in her favor. I didn’t feel particularly confident about the listing agent’s assessment of the situation, as she was trying to keep everyone happy and not lose a sale. She may have been completely telling the truth, but she could have just as easily been trying to keep us calm so that we didn’t panic and back out of the deal, which would be well within our rights if the closing was put off due to appeals.

“Let’s just wait and see what happens,” was her advice. And, I couldn’t have agreed more. There was nothing to worry about yet. We would wait for an answer, and then deal with whatever came our way.

The day of the hearing the listing agent called us. It was good news. A scenario we had not anticipated. The very wise judge had pounded his gavel down with the decision of no decision. He would not yet decide which party got what from the sale, but he would clear the lien, allowing for the sale to go through and take the proceeds from it and put it all in escrow. Then allow the fight to continue over real money instead of fighting over eventual money.

We would buy the house on June 22nd and they would continue the good fight over the cash. Four months later, I still do not know what happened to the money. I can see both sides, both their cases were valid. But I do hope for their sakes that the matter has been settled and each are at peace with the decision. Although, I think that Mr. D. would love the fact that two woman were bitching and squabbling over “his” house.... Oh yes, he would love this... he was a lover AND a fighter!

Schematics

This begins the phase of the project called, Schematic Design. I like to refer to it as Concepting or in layman’s terms, if you will, the time where the architect tries to design a house that crams in all the rooms needed and doesn’t end up with something he hates. This would be an easy task with a bad architect, one who didn’t care that all rooms have cross-ventilation and didn’t insist on a sense of order. But if, like me, you have a good architect, and a less than ideal sized and shaped piece of property, this task can be quite complicated.

First - and this is the easy part - we needed to come up with a list of what we wanted in the house. Dave presented me with an extensive list of his “wants and gotta haves” and then I was allowed to add to that list. However, I needed to do it in a different color type so that he could easily see the changes - but I really think it was so he could easily delete my changes if he didn’t like them.

The list has the normal stuff like...

• kitchen

• living room

• dining room

• master bedroom

• master bathroom and closet

• Tate’s room

• Simone’s room

• kids bathroom

• two car garage

And some more special extras like...

• office

• mud room

• pantry

• laundry room

• basement workshop

• outdoor shower

• miles of bookshelves

• future green roof

Once that was complete, there was a lot of “research” - better known as magazine-flipping, web-surfing and book-scouring. I’ve been told it’s for space and material inspiration, but I believe that this was an answer to appease me, as the architect really just enjoys magazine-flipping, web-surfing and especially book-scouring.

Then, little sketches began to pop up from time to time...

It was starting to get interesting.

And then one stuck. It was working great. Gorgeous first floor plan, with a two-story office space in the front of the house. Public space up front with all the living space in the back. The second floor held all three bedrooms, two baths and even had space for a laundry room - not a closet - a whole room! We loved it!

It’s only drawback (and it was pretty big for me) was that the garage would exist at the back of the property and NOT be attached to the house. One of my biggest wants was an attached garage.

This two car garage would exist at the back of the property, be accessed from a small lane that runs behind us and be about 50 feet from the back door. I could just see myself in the middle of winter, trudging through my backyard filled with snow, carrying three heavy bags of groceries, corralling two wild kiddos and cursing the whole way. I mean, really loud, ugly, truck-driver-style cursing, filled with fucks and son-of-a-bitches and goddamnits! I didn’t really like this at all.

But it seemed there was no other way to get a two car garage on the property without having the entire front of the house be a garage. This, I didn’t want either.

I propsed the idea of considering a one car attached garage. Yes, we would be giving up the two car bays, but we would be gaining the attachment to the house and not having to sacrifice most of our already small backyard to a garage. We were going to have to make a sacrfice one way or the other and I thought that giving up one car bay was the better compromise.

“Nope. Not going to work. Need the two car garage. Not going to happen. Forget it!” was the architect’s reply. Sound familiar?

So I let it go. I really loved the house design and decided that if I had to live with my angry cursing all winter long while walking from my house to my car and then back from my car to my house, so be it. I would pre-apologize to the neighbors and buy them all earplugs for Christmas.

Icon for sale.

Buried somewhere in the front yard at the new house is a St. Joseph statue. There are many people who believe that burying this upside down in your yard will lead to the quick sale of your home. Apparently, he is the patron saint of carpentry and home selling. I’ve just read articles from people swearing by this as an effective method of procuring offers on their homes. And one of my neighbors, whose house has been on the market for a long time, recently confided in me that, she too, has buried a St. Joseph statue in her yard - though it should be stated that 4 months later her house still has a for sale sign in the front yard.

I am rather skeptical of the whole thing. First and foremost, I do not have a religious bone, muscle, cell or synapse in my entire body. Secondly, I don’t believe in tricks or spells or mumbo-jumbo. And the whole “bury a saint in your yard to sell your house” incongruously reeks of both religion and witchcraft... religicraft! But, I do understand the desperation of trying to selling a home, getting no offers and thinking, “What the hell! We’ve got nothing to lose. Grab yer shovel Dave, we’s gonna bury us a saint today!”

About a month ago I was talking to our soon-to-be new neighbors directly across the street. They were telling stories of Mr. D, and Dave and I were showing them the house design and talking about our plans for the property. Then they told us this story....

So, a few months ago I was upstairs in my house and I saw a car pull up in the front of Mr. D’s house. Two older people got out and ran to the trunk of their car and got out a shovel. They went into the front yard and started digging. I watched them from the window and wondered what the hell they could be doing... I mean it was the middle of the day and I’d never seen these people before and here they were digging in the front yard of a vacant house that was for sale. I figured I should go down there and ask them what they were up to. So, I made my way downstairs and as I was walking out my front door, I see them finish filling in the hole they had dug and now they were taking pictures. What is going on?!?!?! I approached them and asked what’s up? They told me they were friends of the woman in Florida who owns the house, and that they were here on her behalf to bury a St. Joseph statue in the hopes of finally selling the house. With that explanation, they brushed the dirt from the shovel, tossed it back in the trunk of their car and drove away. Funny story, huh?

Ummmmmmm....... was all I could muster as a reply for a few moments. “Uh, when did you say you saw this all go down?” I asked. She replied, “Oh, I don’t know... a few months ago. It was warm... like mid-May or so? Yeah, that sounds right. Mid-May it was.”

Well, mid-May was the same time I was out with the dog, walked by Mr. D’s place and well... this happened!

Last weekend I met a sincerely nice couple with four children who were considering buying the property too. They received the same call we did on Friday, May 21st that an offer was put in on the house. They decided to not put an offer in... but don’t you think it’s awfully strange that three separate couples were highly interested in purchasing a house just days after burying a St. Joseph?

That’s some weird coincidence. Or some weird religicraft... ya know... if you believe in that kind of thing.

The Offer

On Friday night, May 21st, we went to bed wrapped up in the weighty blanket of wine and the impending offer on the property. I was excited and nervous. Just because we were going to make an offer didn’t mean that we would be able to buy the property. Or for the price we wanted to pay for it. The offer is just a small step among many in the process of purchasing. We’d been through this before when we bought our current house. This house came with an easy decision to buy, but a nerve-wracking, nail-biting counter-offer process that left me spent and in tears afraid I’d lose this house over a thousand dollars. I remember getting the call from the agent that the owners accepted our counter-offer at my then place of employment and feeling a huge sense of relief and also kinda weird that my co-workers, Sue and Jerry, knew we’d bought a house even before Dave did.

Though we knew that we were “attractive” buyers this time around, we were also going to offer about $55,000 below the asking price, for a house that was already priced at land value. We were not asking for an inspection, we would close whenever the owner wanted and we were paying cash (we had already secured a hefty home equity line of credit on our current house that we could use to buy land) - these are all very compelling extras for someone to consider in a offer, but what if the other people offered the full asking price? Would all these compelling extras outweigh $55,000? I think not. But we were not in a position to be able to pay the asking price. We had a budget for land: the price we were going to offer + the cost of clearing the lot from the trees and the current structures = our budget. We just could not offer more.

We woke up Saturday morning and began a whirlwind day of events. I had no idea it would be so quick, so stressful or so fruitful.

Saturday :: May 22, 2010

9am :: Called the listing agent to tell her we were making an offer.

10am :: She arrived at our house and we filled out the paperwork for the official offer.

11am :: A counter-offer of an additional $20,000 from the owner in Florida arrived for us to ponder. Aack... so quickly, I wasn’t anticipating such a quick counter-offer. I was prepared and expected to wait a day or two before I heard anything.

11:20 am :: We countered with $10,000 more than our original offer. And then expected to hear right back... but nope.

A couple of nerve-wracking, hair-pulling, on-the-verge-of-throwing-up hours went by...

1pm :: Offer accepted!! The crappy little house was ours!!! yell, scream, cry and hug

2pm :: T-ball game.

4pm :: Signed the purchase and sales agreement and handed over a large deposit check.

4:30pm :: Collapsed on the couch from sheer stress-induced exhaustion.

5pm :: Opened a another bottle of wine... this time to celebrate.

Turns out the other couple did offer more money than we did, but they wanted to renovate the house and so their offer was subject to inspection and securing a bank loan.

Team Phaneuf/Rizzolo = 1

Team Other Couple = better luck next time

Decisions... decisions.

I sat down hard in total disbelief. I asked the listing agent, “Your kidding, right?” “No. Sorry. Not kidding. A couple looked at the house a few hours ago and just called me to put an offer in. I called to let you know, just like you asked.” After a very deep breath I quickly got my bearings back, “OK. So Dave and I will talk tonight and decide if we are ready to make an offer. We’ll call you first thing in the morning. But can you let the owner know that another offer may come in the morning and to not make a final decision until then?”

I couldn’t believe it. We had thought so much about this piece of property, Dave was finally on board with it and we were really getting excited about the possibility of our dream coming true… and NOW SOMEONE ELSE PUTS AN OFFER IN ON OUR PROPERTY!?!?!?! We’ve come this close and now we might lose this!?!?!

No. This was just not acceptable.

I nervously waited for Dave to get home from work. How would I begin to tell him this? We really didn’t feel ready to drop an offer yet. There were still so many questions about whether this would definitely work. We had only just begun to really think about. And now we were being forced to make a quick decision about a major life-altering event under total duress. Shit!

Dave walked in, asked how my day was and I told him we now had about 14 hours to decide our fate. So, we did what any rational people would do in this situation… put the baby to bed, got a pizza, opened a bottle of wine and began to talk.

And we talked. And talked. And talked. We talked so long that at 10pm, we looked up and saw that Tate was still on the couch happily playing Wii and thrilled to have been able to stay up so late. We talked so long we forgot to put Tate to bed.

I don’t remember everything we said, there was so much. I just remember being really honest about my fears of buying the property and my fears of not buying it. Dave was equally as honest. And after all the talking, and all the wine, the final decision was YES. YES, WE ARE GOING TO PUT AN OFFER IN.

I do believe that we have made some of our best decisions under total duress. Somehow, we work very well together that way. I’m thinking the wine didn’t hurt either.

Searching - Part 3

I was out walking the dog, on a warm Sunday afternoon, a few months after Dave and I had talked about buying Mr. D’s property and deciding it would not work. It was a perfect spring day, when the sun is shining but it’s not too hot, and warm southerly breezes bring with them the clean smell of the ocean just a few hundred feet away. I walked by Mr. D’s house, took a good, long look at it, and I knew that it was mine. I HAD to have it. We would make it work. It was the opportunity of a lifetime to be able to build in our neighborhood, and I wasn’t going to let it pass us by without a really good, drag-out, hair-pulling, bitch-slapping, bloody, messy fight.

The next door neighbors happened to be outside and I stopped to talk to them, something I’ve been doing for almost six years since they moved here. They were doing some work to their garage to turn it into a studio space for Chris, a children’s book illustrator, so we talked about the progress of their renovations and they showed me around the inside. At one point, either Chris or his wife Anika, a children's book author, asked me, “So are you buying the place next door, or what?” I had previously mentioned to them my interest in the house, so they knew our whole story up to this point. I told them how weird the timing of that question was, as I had just minutes ago got the feeling that I HAD to get that house. I explained the situation of needing a variance to make it work for us and the fear we had of buying the property and then not getting the variance, leaving us holding a lot we couldn’t build on. They both said that they would do anything they could to help us, and that they would really love to have us as neighbors and “Damnit, you should just buy it!” That 20 minute conversation helped strengthen my resolve that this was meant to be, and I formed my plan of attack during the remainder of the walk.

I decided that I would first call the listing agent to see if there were any pending offers before I tried to rally the troops (aka. Dave, the pessimistic architect). On Monday morning, MaryBeth informed me that there had been three offers that were either rejected or fell-through and that at the moment there was no active interest on the property. I let her know my plan… discuss/demand/plead with Dave to take another look at the possibility of the property. If he was willing to think about it more, we would take some time to make sure it would work for us with some very rough, preliminary sketches and then decide to make an offer or not. I let her know that I’d probably need a few weeks to see what we would decide, and that I would call her as soon as I had an answer one way or the other. But, I smartly told her to call me immediately if an another offer happened to be made while we were deciding.

Monday night I discussed/demanded/pleaded with Dave, who pretty quickly said, “OK. Let’s look at it again.” I didn’t even have to bitch-slap him – kind of disappointing. He spent the next few days, with his head buried in architecture books, and I knew better than to ask any questions and just let him do his thing. On Wednesday night after going to bed, he got up again and went upstairs to the studio. He was gone a while and I knew that inspiration had struck. I fell back asleep. The next morning, I found the sketch upstairs… the sketch that began to solve the problem of fitting a well-designed, modern house onto a very tiny piece of property.

It was beginning to look to good for us. It was beginning to seem possible. But we felt we still needed some more time to be sure.

After one phone call at 6pm Friday evening, time was exactly what we would not have.

Inspired by the crazy.

Accompanying the house we bought, is the history of the owner – let’s call him Mr. D. – who left it behind. This history is littered with true stories from those that lived close by, personal experiences of my own, and much speculated about, illegal-goings-on-style neighborhood rumors and folklore. It wouldn’t be fun to keep this all to myself, so I will be sharing these stories – real and rumors – from time to time. And although these stories are a wee crazy and there is the possibility that there were some illegal happenings on the property, I actually liked this man a lot. Deep down, through the gruff exterior, he was a very caring person. He always asked me how my family was doing, especially Tate, and really looked out for those around him.

If you don’t already know this, I am also a potter and/or ceramic artist (use whatever terminology makes you happy) and I have not been to the studio since before Simone was born. It’s ok though. It’s hard to be a half hour from home, working with dusty, dirty clay and be exclusively breastfeeding at the same time. But, I’ve been ready to get back to the studio for a few months and really just looking for the proper motivation to make it happen. Today, I received that motivation.

I was thinking about Mr. D’s stories today while all was quiet and I was in the shower – which is the only time it is really quiet for me and therefore, I do believe, that I come up with some of my best ideas while naked in the shower. So there I was, washing my hair and thinking about what I am going to do next in the studio and what those pieces will begin to look like… and suddenly, the greatest rush of inspiration entered my brain on how to capture Mr. D’s stories and incorporate them into my ceramic work. I found myself sketching ideas on the steamy shower door and actually jumping with glee – carefully though… I was in the shower.

I now have plans for a series of vases, based on the neighbor’s stories and an entire dinner service for the new house, based on the animals that were raised and lived in Mr. D’s home. My first step will be to photo document the chicken coops, pigeon pens, rabbit hutches and cages in the backyard. That’s correct… you heard right. Chicken coops, pigeon pens, rabbit hutches and cages!!

I told you this property came with a history.

Searching - Part 2

The day of the open house, Dave was working and truthfully, not really interested in the property, so I packed Simone in the baby carrier, put Tate’s shoes on and we strolled around the corner and up the street. Just to see.

Walking through the front door, I was hit in the face with a wall of must and mildewed air. The floors were so uneven you could feel a different level with every step. Wall board was ripped down to expose water-rotted beams and joists, and there were actually mushrooms growing on them – inside the house! The ceilings were bowing in and cracking, with mold spores growing happily about. As I was wondering if it was even safe to have the kids in this house, Tate was being ever so helpful to the listing agent by pointing out all the spiders and bugs he spotted with his preschool eyes. She and I chatted. She quickly conceded that this house was a tear-down. It took her another month to convince the owner that it was a tear-down. Where, then, the house price was reduced to land value – finally in our price range.

Dave and I talked extensively about this property and how wonderful it would be to build right here, but he was very concerned with the size of the lot. It was only 8000 square feet and we were looking for no less than 10,000. The lot was also only 50 feet wide – incredibly narrow. I was highly optimistic and thought that if anyone was going to be able to develop this lot, it could be us – we could do it. Hell, I had an architect!! A pessimistic one, but a very talented architect none-the-less.

We looked up the plot map and the zoning laws. We placed the layout of our current house on the map with the setbacks marked (how far the house can be built from the property lines) and realized that our current house wouldn’t even fit in this lot. Dave shook his head, “NOPE. Not going to work. Forget it!” “But what if we went for a variance… couldn’t we do that?” I asked. Dave again repeated, “NOPE. Not going to work. Not going for a variance. Forget it!” {Remember that foreshadowing from before?}

So I forgot it. For a while.

Searching - Part 1

Barrington is a lovely, well-heeled town. It’s beautiful, close to water everywhere you look, and filled with traditional New England style homes – ranches, capes, bungalows and lots and lots of colonials. We now live in an adorable, front-porched bungalow a block away from a long, stretchy beach on Narragansett Bay. It’s cute, sweet and just too small. When we bought it a decade ago, we thought it would last us about 5-7 years – the extra 3 years has been a bonus. So, here we sat knowing we wanted to stay in town for the schools and thinking we’d have to sadly leave our beach neighborhood behind, because it was just too pricey to buy anything bigger than we currently had in and around these streets. Add into the equation that we are not “New England style” home people. And the chances of finding a house we loved in town was, slim to none.

Well, as luck would have it, Dave is an architect. A pessimistic one {foreshadowing}, but an incredibly talented architect, none the less. “Let’s buy some land and build!” Ready, set, go!!!

Only finding an affordable lot, proved impossible. First and foremost, there was very little out there for sale. Secondly, if we could afford it, it was either too small, on a main road, or it was sold before we found out about it. We went so far as to make an unsolicited offer on a lot that was not for sale. Which, obviously, was a chance we took that failed.

Then one day a house around the corner from us had a for sale sign in the window. I was driving by, spotted it, slammed on the brakes, jumped out of the car and ran to the sign. Now, since we moved here, I’ve been fantasizing about this house. It’s ugly, kinda contemporary, but not done well. I always thought that it would be a great remodel project or a great candidate for tear-down – no one would be sad to see it go. The loudly swearing, colorful man who lived there had passed away almost 3 years before, and the house sat empty and neglected for almost that entire time, falling into further disrepair with each passing season. So, there I was, staring at the for sale by owner sign, with a Florida telephone number to call, and a price so outrageously high for this derelict piece of property, that I got back in my car and laughed all the way home.

Months later it went on the market with a real estate agent for less than the original price, but still too much to make it a feasible part of our project. She had an open house. I went. Just to see.

From the beginning.

It was a late, cold, December night in 1992 when I met my architect. He stumbled out of his college bedroom after his roommate rudely pounded on his door loudly yelling, “Get up Rizzolo!!” He had on an RWU architecture t-shirt and red sweatpants pushed up to his knees. He groggily said hello while trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes, and in an instant I knew that he would be in my life forever. How in my life? In what form? Friend? Husband? Guy I used to be roommates with and always wonder how he's doing? I didn’t know. I just knew that this moment was significant and thought “damn, this guy is really cute.”

Fast forward… we moved in together, lived with Jon, then lived with Scott, had a mad water fight, graduated from college, kissed, moved to Providence, got real jobs, got a cat, got another cat, ate pizza every Friday night, bought a house in Barrington, started my own design business, got a dog, threw dinner parties, drank wine, played croquet, had a baby boy, played, laughed, watched Tate grow, vacationed in Alaska, got pregnant, went back to Alaska, had a baby girl, cheered at t-ball, drank more wine, looked at our house and said, “It’s too small, what are we going to do?”

This is what we did…