Day Two: You Aren't a REAL Homeowner Until...

...your plumbing has blown up in your face.

We, my friends, are *REAL* homeowners!

There I was, minding my own business, pulling and thrashing about to get the last of the wallpaper and backer board off the kitchen walls (next to the faucet) when, out of the blue, the faucet began to leak.

And drip. (Try pulling the faucet tighter.)

And pour. (Take off the faucet handle to see if we can replace the gasket or even just tighten the handle's internal valve a bit more.)

And, eventually, gush out faster than the still-needing-to-be-snaked drain could handle. (Oh poop.)

At this point, we discovered that *tada!* our pre-1950's faucet pipes do NOT have shut off valves. The hot water valve attached to the water heater is too corroded to shut. The bucket that I have placed under the heavy stream of increasingly hot water is almost overflowing. Mom and I take turns running buckets of water out to the side yard while my dad valiantly tries close the faucet valve with various pliers, wrenches and brute force. No such luck. We turn off the main, only to be visited by the oh-so-friendly foundation contractor who needs water to set the concrete posts in the back. Ah. And Matt has just showed up from a half day of work, filthy from the job and needing to shower. Yes. Well. We took turns monitoring the main valve and the buckets in the kitchen sink as the water was turned on and off, on and off. And then we left my poor dad on his own to attend my baby shower down in Santa Cruz... Matt ended up sneaking out of the shower with his BF Jim and heading back up to the house... where he installed a brand new BEAUTIFUL WONDERFUL FABULOUS faucet as his first plumbing project, ever. I am SO damn proud.

Dad spent the day sanding away at our kitchen walls. Mom spent the day removing carpet staples and tackboard from our front room floor. (Did I mention it is gorgeous?!?) Matt spent the day working to rewire our lovely knob-and-tube riddled house. And I spent the day experimenting with milk paints. We accomplished less than half of what I had on the "to-do" list, but I am quickly coming to realize that lists and goals and expectations are *WAAAAAY* overrated when remodeling a house... And I need to be ok with that!

Day One... Searching for Bloodstains

...is always the hardest.

We got the keys to our new home on Thursday and took possession on Friday. After all the crazy setbacks, problems, breaches of national security, wrong turns and disappointments, I fully expected the car carrying our title papers to be hit by a semi on the way to the county recorder office, burst in to flames and further delay our close of escrow. In fact, I was *very* surprised when our FABULOUS realtor, Caren, called early Friday morning to say that the house was ours.

Caren: "Congratulations!"

Me: (to self: "Good Lord, what have we done!?!?!?!")

Matt and I met up at the house after work on Friday with a picnic dinner in tow, anxious to see what lay under the carpets. For weeks I had the same dream: we pull up the carpet in the front room and expose a blood stain the size of a small car. Pregnancy hormones or too much CSI? I can't tell... Carpets were ripped, breath was held, and VOILA! They are gorgeous! No blood! Not even a single chalk body outline! Old fir floors, excellent condition, waiting for us to rediscover them... Come to mama! Matt began the fabulous process of rewiring the whole house while I started ripping out old wallpaper and backing board in the kitchen.

Did I mention that the whole house is (uninsulated) original knotty pine paneling?

Oh yes!

The upside: AMAZING wood walls, perfect for oh-so-many different styles of cottage or bungalow refinishing.

The downside: no insulation. No mistakes allowed when cutting a hole for electrical boxes or new faucets. No hiding the past mistakes (and holes) left by previous owners' attempts to add new light fixtures or faucets. Paralyzing fear when starting to paint over the previously plain wood surface, even when I am absolutely, completely, fully 100% positive that the house is too dark, dated and "cabin-y" with the pine paneling as-is...

We ate our first dinner out on the small porch, homemade sandwiches, salt and vinegar kettle chips and a bottle of sparkling apple cider. The good life. Our new life. Starting our new home.

So it begins...

I haven't been on here much (at all) in months... there is too much going on in our lives, and a brief pause from cataloging it all online seemed appropriate. I just couldn't get in to the whole "blog your way through pregnancy" thing... particularly since ours has been a bit of a doozy.

Bottom line at this point: we're due September 23rd, and we just bought a house.

What?

Yes, a house. In California. With a baby on the way. In the worst recession in decades. With construction jobs still unstable. Because we like to live on the edge (of reason...)

In a few weeks we will move in to our new home - a 1940's cabin that is more of a project than a house at this point.... but it is ours, nonetheless. If I wasn't the size of a manatee (and just about as mobile) this wouldn't be a problem: Matt and I love to work on home renovations or upgrades and are incredibly excited to be able to transform this "charming" and "rustic" cabin into a home for our growing family. BUT I happen to be very large, very uncomfortable and very limited in the scope of projects I can tackle at this point. I'm trying to do all that I can, but combine my size with a difficult pregnancy and I really should be resting at home on a couch with a book, jug of water and a fan. (Sounds heavenly. Not realistic.) Did I mention I'm large? I'm sure all pregnant women feel this way at this point, but COME ON! My frame is not meant to be carrying an extra 45 pounds (with more to gain as the weeks continue.)

But I digress...

The house. Yes. Here we go. Onward. Home.

Let's start at the very beginning...

Orla @ Chez Target!!!

I just about fell out of bed...

Oh Happy Day!

I'm online... Now what?

Soooo.... my Etsy shop is up and running, so to speak, at http://www.threadandbranch.etsy.com/. This was a ridiculously draining experience - every little iota of self-doubt came roaring out at me each time I went to shoot, photoshop and post pictures, create branding, pick a name, write descriptions, even create a return policy! But there it is, in all its tiny glory. I only have three items posted, with many more to photograph or finish or whatever. I'm a whimpering pile of self-doubt. Time to back away from the computer and go on a walk. To the beach. In the sun. In a tee shirt. In January.

Life IS good.

So, you want to open an Etsy shop? Ack!!!

The newest addition to my line of fun stuff... (I just LOVE this fabric! And you'll never guess who makes it!)

And, of course, what bag is complete without a custom matching piece of flair?!?! A whimsical flower pin with deconstructed edges and thread accents rounds this piece out quite nicely, if I may say so myself(!)...

I would love to open an Etsy shop and offer custom handbags, knits, jewelry and refinished furniture, but haven't the faintest idea where to start... A million questions come to mind:

Prices?

Item names?

Descriptions?

How to best do made-to-order items?

...and most importantly... what to call my shop/enterprise???

I have a few names that I'm kicking around, but please feel free to offer your two cents... or ten cents... or a dollar...

And, as always, keep in mind that this and any other item you see on this blog is available for purchase either in the colors shown or in any custom combination of fabrics/yarns/materials. Grazie!

A Matched Set

I am an explorer.

For as long as I can remember, I have spent vacations, weekends, an hour here and there all in the pursuit of "treasure." Not gold or truffles or the perfect pair of designer jeans, but bits and bobs of junk that most people would simply pass over.

Ghost towns. Mill sites. Mining sites. Old dump piles. Beach trash. Books. Hardware. Pottery shards. Square nails. Tin cans. Rusted machinery.

For years I also did this exploring either with a very patient dad, very inpatient boyfriends, or alone. No one seemed to understand that lying on your belly at an old beach dump looking for minuscule shards of red glass is exciting. That climbing for three hours to stare at an abandoned steam donkey or other such boiler apparatus for mining is thrilling. Or that finding an old pressed-tin button under the fallen-in ruins of a cabin is unbelievable!

For the longest time I thought that there was something really, really wrong with me - perhaps I was sinking too far into my introversion. I was too independent and crazy and there was no single person out there who would ever understand this need to poke around ruins and spend hours on beaches in search of the perfect sea glass.

Enter Matt.

He's about as crazy as I am. Our idea of the perfect day out includes delicious coffee (normal), a long hike with lunch in a backpack and a camera in hand (pretty darn normal), several hours poking around abandoned piles of milled lumber and rusted out machinery parts (wait, WHAT?), and upon return home a nice long hot shower and good book time (wow, you two are like an old married couple...)

Yes, Matt loves to explore as much as I do. Whereas I used to test my luck with friends while slowly combing over entire beaches, Matt is now right beside me or even bounding ahead like a puppy to look at rather large pieces of driftwood. (Which he is starting to bring home with more frequency... We will soon have a burl garden beside our vegetable garden... Fantastic!) We spent an hour on our last hike on our knees around natural springs, trash piles and fallen-in cabins, just looking for what might be hidden under the years of redwood mulch. We found antique glass and pottery shards and nails (age guessed by bubbles and coloring in the glass and shape of the nails) and a portion of an old brick with a "P" pressed into it. Our treasures. And in the middle of the excitement, combing over the creek to see what might have washed down from the mill site, I looked over at Matt and realized (again) what a matched set we are.

Best friends. Married. Explorers. Two of us.

Go ahead, Mom. You can say "I told you so" again. ;o)