Making it merry. Again.

 

It’s been a difficult few years, right? And I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about this holiday season. So much has changed in our world, cities and homes. If you’ve been reading here, you’ll know my home has been through a lot of changes. Some bad. And some good. That’s why it was even more important to me this year to make it all merry, again. 

Most of my downstairs due to water damage has been completely reconstructed. All the floors, counter tops, cabinetry and wall colors have changed. So using the decorations from previous years was a challenge. Some fit. Some didn’t. 

Tweaking the tree. 

Before we even set up the tree, I knew I’d need to change my color scheme. With the burgundy wall painted grey and the mantle painted black, it was time for new ideas. 

White reindeers now sit along the mantle driven by a black sleigh surrounded by white trees. 

Bold black and white check bows went on the wreath and stairway. 

More black and white check ribbon encircled the re-usable tree. 

The challenge: Do more with less.  

Before the reconstruction, we used to have more room. The nook hutch was taken out and the demolished old desk area shelves were deeper and wider. The new combined cabinet and desk area is beautiful. But it gave me a lot less display space than before. I was determined to find a new way to do more with less. 

Childhood Christmas books found a new place alongside a newly edited Santa collection. The teapot collection still features the Spode teapot alongside just a few teacups and teapots.

Finding new ways to use old favorites. 

The change from a white tile island to a black quartz countertop is a big one. But it does work with the new black, white and red theme, too. And my white porcelain leaf, jars in red, white and black and the red porcelain bowl keep the island looking merry and bright.

White and red poinsettias look good by the sink. 

Yes, the house was flooded and broken. 

But now, it’s all reconstructed and redone.

And I’m so grateful.   

We are all well and together. 

And making it merry. 

Again. 

  

A List of Many Thanks

Looking around this year, I have a long list of ‘thanks’.  Many to people I’ll never know. Thanks to all the hard-working plumbers, cabinet builders and tilers.  

I now have a sink that works. 

Gorgeous hand built cabinets. 

Tile backsplash. 

More thanks to all the painters and flooring installers. I also have waterproof flooring that looks beautiful. 

 

Freshly painted walls and mantle look amazing. 

Even more thanks to a devoted reconstruction team of project advisers and planners. Last year was very hard and at times the problems seemed endless. But with their help and determination, our flooded house is now a cozy, beautiful home again. 

I know there are many others. Friends and neighbors and family who helped, advised, encouraged and supported me. The unsung hero’s of the reconstruction office. The extra helpers on the job site. The guys who haul in the supplies. And the ones who haul it all out. To the packers and movers. To all who I saw and all who I didn’t. 

Many Many Many Thanks. 

Life is good. Again.

A whole year. I can’t believe it but it’s true. It’s taken a whole year to get my home back. Water damaged the kitchen, utility, dining and living areas of my home. Insurance negotiations and construction took over 10 months and included moving out into a hotel for 2 months. Then we waited for all the little details, like thresholds, painting repairs, plumbing and electrical plugs to be finally finished. It might all be done today!

I’m so glad to be back in my home. But most importantly, I’m glad to be back in my studio. 

New old studio. 

My studio space in my home has evolved over the decades. It started as den/computer room where my art area was a drafting table in the corner. Then little by little, my art took over the whole room. This weekend, it evolved again. 

From the rubble of the kitchen area, a new desk and cupboard was salvaged and installed in my studio. Two used formica slabs found in a dumpster 20 years ago were replaced with old kitchen cupboards, countertop and drawers. We found a great cabinet installer online and it all happened in one day!

I have so much storage space and display space. I have a new/old countertop. Yes, it needs paint where the old shelf brackets were, but I don’t care right now. It’s amazing. 

Creating new pieces.

With all the demo and construction, I had to stop throwing, hand building, glazing and firing. It was hard on my body, mind and soul. But I made it through. 

  

After cleaning and clearing the space, I got a full load going for a re-bisque. After I do an initial bisque, I add another layer of color wash. Then it’s put in the kiln again to set that layer of color. Then it’s onto final glazing. And I can’t wait to see it all with bright colors and glossy glaze. 

It’s so good to be in my new, old studio adding color to clay. Again. 

So good to be getting pieces in my kiln and clay my hands. Again. 

After a year, life is good. Again. 

Moving Back In

If you’ve been reading here, you’ll have heard the back story. If not, I’ll simplify it here: water damage in July led to mold, demolition, moving out, reconstruction, moving back in. 

This all sounds like a nice, straight line, right? Wrong. It’s been a long, twisting tromp through the woods of insurance adjusters, agents, construction estimators, reconstruction teams, moving teams, hotel rooms and hundreds of boxes to unpack. 

But we’re here. Now. Finally. And it only took 11 months. 

Boxed Up. 

I’ve always moved myself. I’ve packed, labeled, moved and unpacked the boxes. So having a moving company come in and do it seems like heaven, right? Kinda. 

The movers arrived and unloaded the truck starting with the big pieces: couch, tables, chairs, art work. Then came the boxes, oh my.  I did try to get the boxes in the right rooms, but with an open floor plan and over 160 boxes, stacking was the best option. 

We couldn’t see out the nook windows, but we did have space to eat. And I was able to find the coffee maker and toaster almost right away. 

Unboxing days. 

It took 10 days. Slicing open boxes marked: kitchen, dining room or living room to find paper, bubble wrapped things. Sometimes one box had one thing. Sometimes many, many small things. From paper towels and paper clips to china and crystal, we found it all.  Somethings I’d thought I’d lost and some things, I wanted to lose. 

I unpacked and washed and re-organized. With new cabinets, things didn’t fit exactly as they had before which was a good thing. It made me choose: things I wanted and use vs things I’d just had. I didn’t expect unpacking boxes would be a roller coaster ride through my past. Bringing grief and tears as well as happiness and smiles.

Living in my new/old home. 

Because of the water damage, many things needed to be reconstructed. I walked through the process of picking new cabinets, countertops, tile, flooring with many mixed feelings. My husband and I built this house 29 years ago. I carefully chose all the finishes: floors, countertops, tile and paint. Now I had to do it all over again. 

Many people were excited for me to have, they said, “A new kitchen.” But you see, I didn’t want a new kitchen because I loved what I’d chosen all those years ago. I had to face that it was gone and I had to move on. I made my new choices with crossed fingers. And after choosing tile for the kitchen island and moving out of our home, I realized it wouldn’t work. I decided on a quartz top for the island. Not everyone agreed, but now, it’s obvious it was the right choice. 

At home at last. 

This morning, I walked down the stairs, turned the corner and for the first time, I wasn’t shocked. It all felt right. I knew where everything was: coffee maker, plates, cups, silverware. And I had everything Michael needed to make his wonderful pancakes, a Sunday favorite. 

It’s been 16 days now. 

All the boxes are unpacked.

We’ve moved everything back in. 

But most important, our house is, now home. 

Finally.  

Rise and Shine

I’ve heard these words all my life. Sometimes it was an order or a song or a hope. This week, it feels like things around me are starting to rise and shine. 

The kitchen countertops arrived. Finally the cabinets and island are topped with the black quartz I picked out months ago. While, right now, they are still covered with blue protective plastic, I can see a working kitchen rising. 

A place to roll out biscuits. Cut out cookies. Make muffins and omelets and soups. When the cooktop and oven is finally in, I can’t wait to make mac and cheese from scratch. Bake scones and brownies and spinach pie. 

Oh my, tile too. 

Also this week, the tile was installed between the counter tops and the cupboards. I’ve always had a tile backsplash, which I loved. And I wondered and worried what this new tile would look like with the countertops. 

Would I like it just as much as my original tile? I wasn’t sure. As an artist, (ok, I have trouble using that word on myself), I do have the ability to visualize. Especially for others, it’s very easy for me to see what works and what doesn’t. It’s harder be so sure in my own home, especially this time, when the choice to change wasn’t mine. 

So I was surprised when it all came together. It’s not exactly what I envisioned but it works. 

Rising takes time. 

As I’ve said many times, I’m not a patient person. But what life continues to teach me is things take time. The water damage in July has taken a long time to fix. Our move in date has moved back another week, but tomorrow new floors are going in. 

So things are rising out of the damage. 

New cabinets. New countertops. New sink. New tile.  

And once all the dust gets cleaned up.

It will shine. Again.   

The Power of Paint

 

Early Tuesday morning, the call came announcing the painters had arrived! I jumped up, grabbed my paint chips and headed for the house. It’s not the first time the house has been painted, of course. But it’s the first time, since we built the house, that my husband and I weren’t doing it ourselves. Exciting and nerve racking. 

So making sure that the right colors got onto the right walls was very important. I had picked out three shades of gray (not 50, lol) to go on different walls in the three rooms of our open concept living space.

I also had the wood mantle redone in a satin black to tie into the black gas insert. And had the vaults painted in Polar Bear(the lightest gray/white) in the great room and up the stairs. I’m so glad my husband was not the one balancing a ladder on the stairs!

Uplifting change. 

Being greeted by the smell of fresh paint was wonderful. Looking up at the vaulted ceiling felt like looking at a white cloud filled sky. But the very best was seeing the change on the fireplace wall. Removing my once beloved red and repainting a gray was a big change that lightened the room. It also made the natural brick fireplace an interesting new focal point. 

The change in the dining nook area is very subtle. At first, I questioned by choice, but it grew on me. I realize that once the table, chairs and rug are back in place it will be a cozy nook. Where I can now use a variety of colors as accents.  

Inspiration to paint. 

While the house painters were hard at work, I picked up my own paint brushes. Since I can’t throw clay to ease my stress, I pulled out my old watercolors and paper. I had no idea or concept or landscape to render. My only goal: play. 

When I pulled out my brushes, I was greeted by old friends. My wash brush! I got this brush in my very first painting class with Charles Mulvey. I was only 16 years old(and the youngest in his class) but I loved it from the first. 

Painting a white watercolor paper with water, adding color and watching it flow still seems like magic. Splatting red and yellow from my brush is so fun. Adding salt and seeing it create all of those wonderful new spaces from pools of color is delight. 

Later, I added the black tree and bird. 

Pictured there on the paper were all my feelings: chaos, love, excitement, change. 

The tree with no roots: Me right now, floating in a sea of change trying to remain steady. 

But there is bright paint on my ceilings, like the bright colors on the watercolor sky.   

All Packed Up

I’ve always moved myself. From home to college to the next new home and the next and the next, I wrapped, packed, labeled and carried out boxes from place to the other. Then, I unpacked. 

This time, it’s completely different. On Tuesday, a team of women arrived with stacks of new packing boxes, wrapping paper, bubble wrap and tape. They meticulously inventoried my downstairs. Then proceeded to wrap and pack everything from glasses, silverware and china to paintings, rugs, tables and chairs. They even wrapped up my ziplock bags and garbage can. 

They were amazing. They were so organized. And I’m forever grateful.

Studio chaos. 

What they didn’t pack was my studio. The water didn’t damage anything in there, thank goodness. So no reconstruction is necessary. While the rest of the house was broken up, my studio remained an oasis of calm during the chaos. Until this week, of course. 

Due to the demolition that will be happening in the rest of the downstairs, I worried about possible damage to my porcelain ceramic work. It was recommended that I take tall pieces down and pad them with bubble wrap. So I spent Monday wrapping and securing my work as best I could. 

I also had a bisque load in the kiln that needed to be unloaded. And then, find a safe place for all of those pieces. And I’m in the gallery for Ceramic Showcase, so I needed to be sure those pieces were secure and ready to deliver if the construction goes longer than expected. 

My studio is not and will not be a creative retreat or workable space for a month or more. It’s hard in many ways. I won’t be able to play with color or glaze the new pieces. Most of all, during this turbulent time, I won’t have my hands in clay to calm and ground me. 

Empty nest demolition. 

After originally spending a year designing and building this home, it’s going to be very hard to see it torn apart. Now I know that it needs to be done. I know this will insure we have a safe and solid great room and kitchen. But it’s hard. 

It’s hard to see all the boxes and furniture hauled away to parts unknown. 

It’s hard to see my beautiful floor, cabinets and counters ripped out. 

It’s hard to see it completely empty except for cobwebs and dust.

And it’s an very empty nest right now. 

But outside the window, I see buds and beautiful blooms. 

And I hope my new nest will bud into something just as beautiful. 

February Love Story #4 - Heart and Home

About 30 years ago, I took on a big scale creative project: designing and overseeing the building of a new home. With a growing family, we needed not just more room, but rooms that were open allowing for a better flow of family life. 

We toured many new homes for sale but none of them really felt right. After much thought, we decided we needed to build our own home. We found a plan close to what we wanted and I set about redesigning it. I’d worked in an architect’s office during college where one of my many tasks was making blueprints. This experience taught me how to read plans, how to change plans and how the basic building process worked. 

The biggest requirement: an open floor plan. We wanted the main floor to flow from kitchen to dining to living rooms. We wanted a ‘homework’ and home business desk area. And I wanted a room where I could expand my creative side whether that was drawing, writing or painting. 

Difficult and delightful. 

I enjoyed the creative side of re-designing the plans. Moving a doorway here. Pushing out for window seats in all three bedrooms. Turning the kitchen island around to allow for a downdraft cooktop, stealing space from the downstairs bath for a bigger pantry and reversing the washer/dryer area to give me a laundry room window and sink. 

Staying on budget with surface selections was sometimes difficult. But we did it. Finding colorful countertops, tile for the island and backsplash, carpet, vinyl and wood flooring. Best of all, beautiful custom red oak cabinetry, yes that was extra but worth every penny. 

Many years of love.

My son was 6 and my daughter was 9 when we moved in. With the open floor plan, we’ve been able to be flow and grow with them. Lots of birthday parties, sleepovers, family dinners, holidays, bridal showers have been celebrated here. 

My husband and I have marked many anniversaries and weathered many life changes under this cozy vaulted roof. Jobs. School graduations. Open studio events. Covid. Sheltering our children during life changes. Working from home. 

Now our children’s children play with trains, dolls, puzzles, crayons and paint here too. Our home has moved, changed and embraced it all. 

And now: tears and fear. 

In July, we woke up to a flood in our kitchen caused by a newly installed plumbing valve failure. As usual, we took care of our home: mopping up water, calling the plumbing company and insurance company. 

We had mold. Then we had flooring, countertops and sink torn out. We washed dishes in the laundry room sink(who knew how much I’d need that sink when we built the house). We tripped on 3 layers of uneven flooring. I learned to balance between it all to load and unload the washer and dryer, cook and yes, clean my home. 

Nine months have passed. I’ve lost so much sleep. Crying over the losses. Fearing more damage every time I hear the sounds of water. Angry at how much I have to fight the insurance company over everything needed to try to get my home back to being a home again. 

Estimator after estimator has come to measure and assess the damage. Totals sent to the insurance company are rejected time and time again. We get more experts to explain the situation to the insurance company. Weeks and months go by with rejections or no response at all from the insurance company adjuster. Who, by the way, has never actually come here to see the damage or what a beautiful home we had. 

It’s hard enough to see the heart of my home destroyed by a plumbing company/valve failure. But to be told by a distant insurance adjuster, your flooring which you loved, will have to all be ripped out and replaced, then to not be given enough money to get it done right? 

It’s the heart of my home. 

It’s a labor of love.

It’s no wonder I can’t sleep.