"Paneling, Popcorn and Glitter:
The glamour of it all."
We’ve been busy with a project for the last two months, and
again, it requires that I reveal it to you in a cluster. I’m snipping the twine
and the bundle shall break loose, causing each post to steam-roll over you every other
day this coming week. So stay with me, and
be ready to jump over them before they mow you down.
I regret posting these during the World Series, but maybe you can come at me in-between the innings and hot wings. Think of these as nachos with extra pork.
(Speaking of healthy food, I have an update for you. My weight loss has reached a staggering plateau, but I am still succeeding in walking my daughter to and from school each day; honoring my time boundaries by not over committing; and I kicked my daily Starbucks habit---gawd, I need Starbucks daily. How could I be so cruel to myself?)
When last I left you, we had been pitching and tossing clutter for almost eight weeks. We also re-arranged virtually every stick of furniture in our house, now no longer in their original spots. Family living (and farm living) were finally happening in the right areas in our house and things appeared to make sense where they were.
I regret posting these during the World Series, but maybe you can come at me in-between the innings and hot wings. Think of these as nachos with extra pork.
(Speaking of healthy food, I have an update for you. My weight loss has reached a staggering plateau, but I am still succeeding in walking my daughter to and from school each day; honoring my time boundaries by not over committing; and I kicked my daily Starbucks habit---gawd, I need Starbucks daily. How could I be so cruel to myself?)
When last I left you, we had been pitching and tossing clutter for almost eight weeks. We also re-arranged virtually every stick of furniture in our house, now no longer in their original spots. Family living (and farm living) were finally happening in the right areas in our house and things appeared to make sense where they were.
I got as far as de-cluttering about 90% of our things, and then started to get a little bored with that phase, because it was so long. And I knew there were more phases coming. Like anyone who’s Not-Really-A-Hoarder, there are five phases to re-doing one’s home to get it ready to put on the market and then not really sell it.
- 1. The ‘De-clutter’ phase (90% is an A-, right? Check mark here please!!!)
- 2. The
'Fix All The Broken Things In Your House’ phase.
- 3. The
‘Touch Up The Paint In Every Single Square Foot’ phase.
- 4. The
‘Clean The Hell Out Of Your House’ phase, even if you have to hire a lift team.
Then, finally, when everything is absolutely perfect:
So now, you’ve found me in the middle of phase 2, which has
occupied me since October 1.
This 'Fix All The Broken Things In Your House' phase...it may sound like
an easy thing if you’re talking about a toaster or a roof tile. But how do you wrap your head around a broken
room?
The first room one sees when they enter our house, is our
little living room. Let’s just say,
somethin’ ain’t natural about this room.
There is a wicked bad feeling here. Always has been. I have a theory…
One day, in 1976, (way before we moved in) a paneling
salesman stumbled onto our street and made a killing as he sold fake walls to
almost everyone. This was followed by a
sales team pushing the perfect pairing; a coating of Popcorn/Asbestos ceiling
funk. And then the sexy step-brother
came and sold everyone Crappy Aluminum Picture Windows that allowed sunlight to
stream in. Along with spiders, grime, cold air
in winter and hot air in summer. This
boosts your energy bills with their slow death leak.
And there you have it…bad taste trapped in 200 square feet. Which attracted buyers like us in 1991.
A good friend said coming into my house is like being born. You enter the front door, army crawl through the dark and scary birth canal, get spit out somewhere around the kitchen and finally caught by the doctor in the roomy Church Hall that is my great room. It’s like a wild ride through a water tube.
And there you have it…bad taste trapped in 200 square feet. Which attracted buyers like us in 1991.
A good friend said coming into my house is like being born. You enter the front door, army crawl through the dark and scary birth canal, get spit out somewhere around the kitchen and finally caught by the doctor in the roomy Church Hall that is my great room. It’s like a wild ride through a water tube.
Here’s how I, Sheri Hoffmann, being of sound mind, really feel about this room.
As I mentioned, adding to the beauty of the front room was that
ceiling, sprayed with popcorn, possible asbestos and definitely dirt. Oh, and dare I mention the glitter? Court documents point to a crafting day gone
to hell in the summer of ‘76, as someone threw up and spewed shards of gold with
such velocity, the popcorn swelled around each embedded piece, locking it in
and thus ensuring the glitter’s place in history.
As my good friend Kerry mentioned, “It has been said that glitter is the herpes of the craft world.” It has captivated my guests for two decades, but I pissed them off when I’d threaten to scrape it off like a bad scab. The mounds of popcorn-glitter-asbestos hell literally sucked the light from the room and sometimes from as far away as the inside of my car. I hated it.
And, because the dodgy windows didn’t ever, ever fit right in their thin
imperfectness and shoddy workmanship, for 20 years they have allowed many
things into my home, including Kirby salesmen.
True, some critters were blocked by the fake window treatments that spoke of Hoffmann 1995: The Early Years. In those days, we couldn’t afford plantation shutters, but we COULD afford Walmart Levolors. So we went to the cross-breeding aisle and found Plantation Levolors, or Plantelors.
The levolors had an internal magnetic field which held on to all muck. It allowed spiders to go condo, and build, build, BUILD all around the inside of my window. Often, I’d hear the tell-tale zzzZZZZZTTT!!!!!!!! of flying insects who were snagged in the sticky web. In the morning, we’d find their drained carcasses suspended between the levolors and the window--the netherworld of filth, murder and cold air. With the awe and quiet beauty of Christmas morning presents. Some beasts managed to make it past the barrier, and found better living uptown, in the popcorn of my ceiling because it offered better grip. There they reproduced, among the secure dirt-web layer referred to as the Crudulicious Period.
True, some critters were blocked by the fake window treatments that spoke of Hoffmann 1995: The Early Years. In those days, we couldn’t afford plantation shutters, but we COULD afford Walmart Levolors. So we went to the cross-breeding aisle and found Plantation Levolors, or Plantelors.
The levolors had an internal magnetic field which held on to all muck. It allowed spiders to go condo, and build, build, BUILD all around the inside of my window. Often, I’d hear the tell-tale zzzZZZZZTTT!!!!!!!! of flying insects who were snagged in the sticky web. In the morning, we’d find their drained carcasses suspended between the levolors and the window--the netherworld of filth, murder and cold air. With the awe and quiet beauty of Christmas morning presents. Some beasts managed to make it past the barrier, and found better living uptown, in the popcorn of my ceiling because it offered better grip. There they reproduced, among the secure dirt-web layer referred to as the Crudulicious Period.
Yet the glitter proudly shone through like amber waves of
grain. ‘The filth shall not diminish her
shine!’, it seemed to say. It was
impossible to clean. We shall not touch
it or speak of it nor look at it. So,
like my husband said, sometimes, it’s better to do nothing at all. And ignore it we did!
After we de-cluttered this summer and moved the right
furniture into this room, its new role was “Home Office; Sheri’s Writing Nook;
and my daughter’s Play Area.” It was a
tall order and this room could take it.
But as I gazed upon the desolation in this room, I saw how
many years of effort we had put into hiding the flaws, ignoring the stains, taping
things together, painting words on it, back-lighting it, cursing it. We did everything we could to make the best
of bad taste.
Finally, it became apparent that this room could no longer be saved by a comb-over. It needed surgery, down to the studs.
Finally, it became apparent that this room could no longer be saved by a comb-over. It needed surgery, down to the studs.
So, I started this project the same way I’ve started all projects in this home: I sketched my dreams on a crumbled napkin. This always makes my husband nervous, because I get ‘that look’ on my face. Then, you know that troll who guards the bridge to our bank account?
He dies.
Luckily for us, we know a skilled craftsman, a muscular Irishman
who is easy on the eyes, and he agreed to take us on. As we emptied the room the day before, I let
my kids write on the walls, in a rare Octomom moment. Then friends came over to add their art. Tagging has been on my bucket list, and in my
OWN HOME, nonetheless! The convenience
had me at ‘hello.’ How lucky am I?
The next day, our contractor showed up with ice picks. Like the great Berlin Wall Moment, I revelled in every grunt and groan as he tore that room to smithereens.
Click here for Part 2 of a 4 part series: http://freddiesmom50x50.blogspot.com/2012/10/the-deep-end-part-2-of-4-part-series.html
Awesome!
ReplyDeleteYou didn't invite me to come draw on the walls!!! Next time . . . ~!?
ReplyDelete