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My son, Dan, set up this blog for me and posted my pictures.  He is all too aware that I am a “newby” (do people actually still use that term???) and would surely botch it up so badly that it would take him forever to straighten the mess.  But I am willing to learn and someday will.
Now for my news.  I read his blog and know that many of you were aghast that I even considered for a moment to stain the interior of my tiny house.  Let me explain.  Growing up in the fifties, as I did, everyone had a rumpus room.  Today they are called wreck rooms, dens, even  “man caves”, but back then they were always knotty pine.  They may have been varnished, but they were always natural wood.  I have nothing against the retro look that is running rampant these days.  Some of it is familiar and comforting, but looking at those pine walls I could almost smell the beer that was a part of my dad’s “room”.  That was not the feeling I wanted in my bedroom, kitchen and bathroom, thank you very much.  Because I will be spending a LOT of time in my tiny house, and want my art pieces to be a big part of my environment, I knew that I wanted gray walls to showcase this art.  Not just gray walls, but gray with blue undertones as well.  We sampled a gazillion samples (O.K., so it was only 8, but it seemed to take forever for me to find just the right look.)  Dan mentioned that it was taking a long time for the staining, but it required staining blue, sanding, staining gray and applying polyurethane WHEW!!!  Rick did all of this in 100+ degrees every day.  So yes, it did take time, but it is exactly the look that I had hoped for.  You can’t imagine the sheer horror I felt when I saw the pictures posted.  I know the camera does some crazy things… since I have some pictures taken of me that make me look frumpy and old, and I’m not (at least not in my mind), but our walls are beautiful, not the yucky look in those pictures.  At this point I can only commend Dan for not getting on the telephone and saying “I told you so, Mom!”  Perhaps when I learn to do better with a camera (picture taking is sort of on a par with my computer skills) you will all have a chance to see what I see.

 

out side of the little house with steps

The tiny house has arrived and I never knew I had so many neighbors.  Everyone wants a “look see”.  The best one, though, is the little girl next door (she is 5) who asks constantly if she can gather up her favorite dolls and come over and play with me in my little play house.  When my house arrived much work had been done but much more was yet to be done.  Bob and Lolly are the best neighbors ever, and I have spent many a morning sipping a cup of coffee and discussing the world’s problems in their kitchen.  Now, with Bob as my #1 contractor (thankfully he works for cake) I have been able to tap into his brain and gather some wonderful ideas for the kitchen cabinets that he is building for me.  I wish I could take credit for some of these great plans that are happening, but they are all his.  I will take credit for the home-made cake though.
When the house arrived I could hardly wait until I could get inside with my trusty tape measure and start making plans.  Much to my son Dan’s chagrin I tend to think outside the box…Not exactly great news for an engineer but I was on cloud nine.  My first obstacle was getting into the house.  I watched my boys leap into the house as if their heritage was superman.  I on the other hand put new meaning to the term lead foot.  There was no way I could get my feet (or my fanny for that matter) up as high as the floor of the house.  My husband made me steps out of concrete blocks and I was on my way.  Unfortunately no one was around when it was time for me to exit.  There was no way I was going to take this leap of faith out and onto a couple of rickety old blocks that now seemed no bigger than a good sized stamp.  How the heck did I ever get up there in the first place?  I would like to think of myself as fearless.  After all I live in the state where roaches are as big as cows and alligators are almost an every day occurrence, not to mention those chameleons that scurry around outside just to keep you on your toes.  But stepping out into the unknown without a handrail was just asking for a body cast in my future.  I tried laying on my stomach and wiggling through the door (did I mention I never knew I had so many neighbors)  but now my knees caused my feet to point upward toward the sky and not down where the grass and good old concrete blocks were waiting.  What a mess!  I finally sat in the doorway and feeling like I was at the end of a pier fell out of the tiny house and onto the lawn.  The next afternoon Bob made me my own personal set of steps complete with hand rails!  Thank you Bob.

front step