Renovation Realities: It's Not All Roses Under the Tuscan Sun

We have officially passed the one year mark of living through our home renovation. If this blog were a sea captain's log, this entry may be the one where a long, arduous journey on a tumultuous sea has taken its toll on the ship and its mates leaving everyone wondering when land will finally appear and how much more they can possibly take cooped up on board. Here, the captain would likely be taking inventory of gains and losses, reflecting on his or her mistakes and challenges over the last year, and hint in the journal's subtext—although ever so subtly—to the real possibility of a mutiny.
   Around May of 2012, the dismantling of our kitchen sent our family of four (and two dogs) packing into our two-room guest house. At first, it was a delightful break from routine. And we were relieved to escape the clamor and dust of the main house. Since we renovated our backyard first, our setup was not altogether primitive. We were freshly squeezing oranges from the trees in those early weeks and enjoying sunny afternoons by the pool. So, at first, it was delightfully reminiscent of camping. I remember even making a sorbet from mint and basil grown in our yard, adapted from a recipe I happened upon in my Under the Tuscan sun book. How blissfully ignorant I was of how long it would really take us to get back into our house. I had visions of making Thanksgiving dinner in our new kitchen. Not even close!
   While our guest house has no kitchen, it does have an outdoor barbecue with a useful side burner. And  early on we moved the big french door refrigerator from the main house to just outside the front door of the guest house. Not pretty, but useful. Unless, of course, you have a late night craving and have to venture out into the dark of night in PJs and bare feet to get a snack. This job I usually leave for my husband, who often delivers a nice selection of cheeses and wine after the kids go to bed.
Certainly most sane people who renovate their homes move into apartments. But, we are trying to save money, of course. Living in our guest house could be potentially saving us thousands, so we have never entertained any other option.
   While the winters in Southern California are nothing like the snowbank-filled winters of my youth growing up in Syracuse, New York, it can still get pretty cold at night. Try washing dishes outside in 40 degree weather. Another job for my husband, who often leaves it for morning when the sun comes out again. And it must be noted that there is quite a bit of rustling heard in the orange trees at night. I heard footsteps on the roof of the guest house the other evening as I lie in bed, so heavy I thought there was a man running across. A very large rat? Racoon? Or chupacabra!
   Christmas in the guest house was another challenge. While we tried to keep gifts to a minimum, the issue of not enough space is always a challenge and readily apparent. If I were to take a snapshot of our main-room at this instant, you'd see cereal and macaroni and cheese boxes stacked up on open shelves, a new-gift guitar messily stashed above the highest book shelf and linens crammed into a box above our only wardrobe, which can never be opened because my son's basket of Christmas toys are sitting in front of it. Having no room to store many clothes in the guest house actually makes the selection of one's daily attire a little bit easier: You just wear the same thing you wore the day before! Unless, of course, your one-year-old smeared his nose, blueberry face and hands all over it, which nine times out of 10 is the case!
   Ah, but how can I be complaining? I know I shouldn't. I am grateful to have a house and the means with which to renovate it. And yet, I must admit, there are times when the doubt sets in and lingers. Did we do the right thing? Should we have made less changes? Why does everything cost so much? Will we ever be able to move back in? Will we have to sell this house when it's all finished because we can't afford it? Why doesn't the electrician ever show up when he says he will and will he ever return? Will be ever be able to stop making runs to Home Depot at 9 O'clock at night?
   The other day—when glancing through some old photographs, my 6-year-old daughter said she really missed our old house. And while I assured her that her new bedroom would be even more wonderful than the last, I couldn't help but to feel a few stabbing pangs of loss for our old house. It wasn't so bad, I thought. While I sometimes used to enter my old purple kitchen with my eyes averted to certain areas that I loathed—the lighting, the old linoleum floor, the tattered back door, an oven from the 60s that smoked...I could go on...what I wouldn't give to be able to cook in there now. To wash dishes and be able to find a glass or bowl when I need one! To have a bath in the old bath tub! To watch TV again! Ah, the good old days when we had a satellite dish and movie channels, which by the way, was removed with the old roof as we decided it wasn't worth hooking back up until we were living in the main house again.
   As I write this, the exterior of our home is now complete. And that is something to be truly grateful for, especially since it has rained quite a bit in these past few weeks. A new roof, new stucco, new stone walls, new rain gutters. It's quite beautiful and while there are little details to still attend to on the outside, such as staining and painting the doors and windows and installing hardware, the lions share—including the most challenging parts of our total reno—are all behind us. My husband, though weary, is tireless and deserves quite a bit of credit for keeping this train full steam ahead. Beyond being the chief engineer of this project who solves unsolvable problems by the minute, he's also the voice of reason and hope—and for that, I am truly most grateful.
   We're working on the inside of the house now. And while we must admit we do get tired of this renovation, we are still excited about getting so close to its finish. Hold onto your hard hats.
   "Ahoy, maties. I think I see land!"

Ventura California Home Inspiration

 We made a special house material run to Santa Barbara on the weekend after Thanksgiving (more about that trip in a future blog), and couldn't resist stopping in Ventura on the way back. This is one of my favorite little towns. With cute little shops and restaurants, it's super-quaint and still a little undiscovered. It's also a veritable treasure trove of thrift and antique stores. Although I haven't taken an official count, there must be easily more than 10 in the little village (main street and side streets). And the prices are exceptional. You'd be hard-pressed to find unique items at some of these prices in Los Angeles. Of course, our first stop in Ventura always involves eating (can't shop on an empty stomach). Since it was a little rainy, we ordered the coconut soup at this cute little Thai restaurant called Rice. And accompanied it with a pot of tea. We arrived just in time on Saturday as the restaurant closes for a few hours in the mid-afternoon (so the staff can eat their lunch) and then reopens for dinner. There were quite a few people who stopped in to eat (and had traveled from far distances), only to discover quite disappointedly that the kitchen was closed!

 The architecture of the buildings in Ventura add to the quaint old-town ambiance. Notice the nice columns here. Who knew there was a Bank of Italy in Ventura?

One of the many antique stores. There is so much stuffed crammed into these stores, you have to walk very slowly to take it all in.

 More funky stuff.

I always find I get home decorating inspiration from shops and M. Frederic on Main St. is a perfect example. I was drawn right in by the sparkly chandelier with the white washed brick and lintel way in the back. I could live in this store.

 Now, here's a secret find: Called American Home and Garden, this shop is must-stop in Ventura. I'm always amazed at how less expensive many of the items are in this store (compared to shops in Los Angeles.) They also have their own blog called chateauetjardin.com or chateauetjardin.blogspot.com if you'd like to check it out.

I've been thinking about getting one of these big clock faces as some art work in our main great room. And they had several nice ones at American Home.

I do love stacked suitcases, especially when they are as vintage-looking as these guys.  Whoever displays the items in this store does a great job. Each little consignment corner displays so many great vignettes of intriguing items.

Could these suitcases make a bedside table? And wow--provide extra storage for items you don't need every day such as old photo albums.

This hanging bench has me pondering where I could put it—or something like it. I'm convinced our livingroom should have a swing/couch.

Another of our usual stops in Ventura is The Bella Maggiore Inn. They have a fabulous restaurant called Nona's Courtyard Cafe that is a lovely little secret hideaway. If my friend Susan had not told me about it many years ago, I never would have found it. I've never had a bad meal here. Some wonderful omelets and grilled veggie sandwiches.

A pretty little fountain inside Nona's Courtyard cafe. The magical sound of the water cascading relaxes you as soon as you sit down at your table. My daughter has always enjoyed the freedom of playing at this fountain while we've waited for our meals. A few pennies have been wished upon here and I can say that it must be a special fountain because more than a few of those penny-tossed dreams have come true.

Back of Our House: A Photo Chronicle

Here's a shot of the back of our house as we began our renovation. It seriously needed work! You can see the foundation for the new square footage. We decided to make the house square to the sunroom, which is the white portion to the right in this image. This is giving us a little extra room in the kitchen and the new kid's bathroom.

Here, you can see we're moving the electrical box. We were not happy with how the panel was moved the first time. So, our crew had to redo what was done by the electrician. It was much neater when completed as you can see in the next pic.

Here, the new square footage addition is framed out and we've added our doors and window. They've not yet started the concrete landing yet, so it was a little tough getting in and out of the house, especially with a new baby. Our dog Loretta had the worst time, though. She's 17 years old!

Here we have the plywood going up. Originally, we installed the French doors European style, which means they were opening in as they are meant to be. But, we regretted this install immediately. They took up too much room from our new bathroom space. Ugh!

Here's what's left of our old concrete back steps. Good thing we could use this concrete in the front yard. It helped to build up what will later be our veranda. 

Ahhhh, the concrete back steps. This required so much cement, we had to bring in a cement truck with a hose. That was an exciting day! These are so much easier to walk up and down. Our dogs love to lay on the top deck and sun themselves. By the way, that single three-lite door enters into our kitchen. Notice the roof is gone!

Here's a shot of the new roof going up. Always worried about the next rain, we couldn't get this on fast enough.

So many decisions when building a house: What did we want to do above the concrete back steps? We opted for  a small awning with corbels. We had to sacrifice a little bit of sunlight. But, it provides some nice rain protection should we need it. And the corbels are pretty.

Here's a shot with the black paper and lathing. Who knew there were so many steps?

Here, you can see the nice detail work on the rafters peeking out. The corbels were installed later.

I was getting really excited by the time I took this photo, but I admit I did start doubting my color choices because I do like the modern look of this gray coat. It's called the scratch coat. It still required a brown coat on and then, the final stucco or stone treatment on top of that. I could imagine a nice gray exterior with lightly stained doors. Modern, clean and nice.

Another view of those corbels.

One more shot. Stay tuned: We're not yet finished with the back of the house. Getting there!

In Love With Stone Houses

We just ordered the stone for our house facade this week. It's not actually real stone, but concrete made to look like stone—what's known as cultured stone—from the manufacturer Eldorado Stone. There is something about stone that I just love. Growing up in upstate New York, I've seen plenty of beautiful stone homes, many of them farmhouses like this one shown above. While I'm partial to Provence-style stone homes or those stone farmhouses of Tuscany, stone is a building material used for its practicality and is beautiful in any location. It's sturdy. It's timeless. This beautiful house is located in St. Lawrence County in Northern New York and it's constructed of Potsdam sandstone. This particular house has been for sale for a few years now—one of the many houses I dream about owning. It's located on more than 500 acres, which contains a former dairy farm and robust hunting grounds in the heart of an old order Amish community. This house, like many stone homes, looks like it will be standing for a long time, passing through many generations and lifetimes.

Here's another stone house, Colonial style, in upstate New York. Named the "Horton Sayer House," this historic beauty was  built in 1766. It's been around for more than two centuries already and will likely be around for quite a few more. How many other homes will live longer than a 100 years or so? Stone weathers time like nothing else—and looks fabulous while doing it.

I used to fantasize about buying an old stone church and converting it into a house. But, finding one for sale in an area you actually want to live can be a challenge! This stone church with a breathtaking view to boot is located on New Zealand's South Island. (And to my knowledge is not for sale.)

Nor is this one for sale. But, wow, if it was, I would seriously consider moving to Romania, which is where this church, called Densus, is located. This towering structure feels immediately protective. So, even though it's not far from Transylvania,  yes, that's home to Dracula, its sheer solidity seems strong enough to quell even the discontented spirit of Vlad the Impaler. 

Here's one in the South of France. A great place for inspiration is looking for villas for rent online, which is how I came by this enchanting stalwart facade.

The vibe on this stone house is vacation getaway, well, because it is. You can rent it if you like. I think vacation getaway is the feeling I like to have most of the time, even when I'm not on vacation. Wake up: Be on vacation. Come home: Be on vacation. It's a great way to live.

Another lovely getaway in the South of France. This one is called Lumiere. I guess if you live in such a cool house, you can give it a name without sounding pretentious. Note to self: Come up with some cool house names. Maybe Little Caw Cottage or Lavender Farm or Rosemary Ranch. OK. I'll keep working on this. ...

Is this the entrance to heaven? In my version it is. : )

You gotta love the French. They have the nerve to paint their shutters such funky colors. The stone facade and shutters here are not even the same value or chroma or hue, but they just work. Like star-crossed lovers with a big age gap, they say "unorthodox, never boring and I'll do whatever I please, merci beaucoup."

This incredible image, which nicely depicts the juxtaposition of stone and red roses was taken by Michael  Cosgrove. It's such a striking contrast between that which is unyielding and fixed with something so soft and transient that I suspect this visual metaphor is working on my psyche at a level so deep that I truly can't fathom consciously its full effect. I guess that's why they call Houzz house porn. Do you feel your breath hitching a tiny bit or is it just me?
(Oh, it's just me.)

Another image from Michael Cosgrove. The villa is in a hamlet in the Southern region of France. I do like the pancake cobble by the way.

Another villa for rent in the South of France. But, with the delightful palm tree it looks like it could be in Beverly Hills.

This 400-year-old chapel is actually in Southern California. But, it was moved here—stone by stone—from Dijon, France by the owners of Cal-a-Vie, a spa in San Diego county.

Here's another view of the chapel. I can see why people like to get married here. 

My ode to stone houses would not be complete without a nod to the location used in the movie Under the Tuscan Sun. This house, where the movie was shot, has apparently been completely renovated and is now available for rent.

Here is an inside shot of the Under the Tuscan Sun house. When a house is really made from stone (not the cultured kind), you get some great architectural details like this stone arch.

Another interior shot. I do love the bright, airy feeling of this space. Too much stone would be overpowering, but juxtaposed with the white walls it lifts the spirits.

An exterior shot of the renovated Under the Tuscan sun house.

Another interior shot. I could look at images from this house all day. Better get back to work.

Lastly, this is a house from the Eldorado Stone website Imagine gallery. This is Veneto fieldledge, which is the style of stone we'll be putting on the exterior of most of our home. We already used the Veneto on our guesthouse and garage, so we'll continue with it to remain consistent on the main house. It does have some nice dusty terra cotta tones, which are rather hard to spot in this image. But, it is lovely.