Monday, June 22, 2015

Selling A House (Not Just Any House) Part I

With his own hands and help from his stepbrother and father, my Father built this house in the early 1940's. I  just learned the foundation was dug out by hand, no machines, by a number of men who came from afar to help over a weekend.

What you are looking at is a solid house neglected over the past five or six years and also my Father's treasures and their display in his room in the cellar. 

We were advised to upgrade the electrical, fix the brick steps, things like that, but to pretty much sell the house as a fixer upper, After the tenant moved out, it was an unclean mess. Call it intuition or conviction or whatever, but I never wavered: there was no way in holy hell I would let my Father's house be sold looking like that. 

I was right. After a mason, electrician, two handymen-carpenters, landscaper, cleaner, and exhausted JB and myself: here is the house that made it's debut barely a week ago "for sale." The photos are fantastic: it doesn't look quite this charming, but honestly, we did a hell of a job. And my father's solid solid work--not one crack in the smooth walls when the wallpaper came down, and his perfect hardwood floors even after all these years--his quality just shines. 

Look here:

It was clean as a whistle. It sold in three days. I'm so glad for my parents. Before it's too late, my brother and I and our families will sit in the kitchen again, and eat pizza. 


P.S. I know I'm absent here. I expect to be back, to be writing more. For now, it be true that I is in a whirlwind. A bit of a tornado, even.


Thursday, June 04, 2015

Title Unknown :^)

Well here I am. I wish I had words to describe the last month or so. Maybe Whirlwind. Memories. Possessions. Houses. Photos. Exhaustion. Emotion. Love. Plenty of love.

JB and I put our house of 11 years on the market today. It made its debut today: an Open House with a good realtor who it turns out gathers an attentive audience with good food and good sangria. JB and I worked for days to clean and declutter and shine the house up and other people helped us and honest to god it looks fabulous.

And two hours away, my Mother and Father's house, on a dead end lane. It will go on the market next week, after the painters and electricians and handy people finish the repairs and upgrades. I keep thinking I will not let this house look one iota less than my Father, a mason, who built it himself, with his step-brother, would allow. There is pride in this house and it is a solid thing: you can see it in the walls. It's become old and tattered and I don't know how it will show itself in the end, but I hope I feel a certain way as soon as I set foot in it again. Tomorrow. 

Memories: I can't carry or keep them all. Especially the material kind: cards, bankbooks, presents, holidays, gifts, dishes, photos that cover four generations of my family. My Mother and her 15 sisters and brothers (4 were steps-.) My daughter and her wonderful wild wise kids. JB and the places we've been.

I'm feeling all of it. It's inside a list that's averaged twenty or more things that must be done, every day. For now.Things to be Scheduled. Arranged. Reciprocated. Inspected. Appreciated.

There's the word! Appreciated. I'm looking back on my childhood and I know I had good parents, a good family.

I'm looking at my Jessica and her Mike and those kids and I just about weep joy for her.

And JB. And myself. We are headed to a strange new land we ironically, intimately know. In time we'll pack up and move here and the commotion and bustle will settle down and then I will take a deep breath, drink that delicious cup of coffee a little slower, and then I  will wonder what will be next.

p.s. No complaints--who could really complain about a ride on a roller coaster?