It Takes a Village to Craze a House

Last night, relaxing with friends after the ceremonial shoving about of furniture. We all have different ways of unwinding. Try not to judge. 

Philip, reprising his role as Sheik Ali Decor-Rhum-Baba

When my friend & lovely realtor Emma Sun showed me this house, it was approached more as an afterthought & an apology (...since we're in this neighborhood...just came on the market...doesn't exactly meet your criteria...two bedrooms instead of three & one bath instead of two...want to look anyway?) than as a perfect dream home. That's ok. If I have any strong suit at all it involves the will & vision to turn something into something else entirely (for better or for worse).

So we looked. And we stopped talking. We had been chattering through houses for a few months at that point, & our talking points were rarely good. (Why would they do THAT??  Ugh, so dark/small/dingy/dirty, & generally disappointing). 

Fatigue & the lovely yard--those were the swing votes that got me out of my car & into this ill-suited on paper house. 

I don't think Emma had been  into the house at this point, so we both stepped in & looked around with wonder at the airy quality, the high ceilings, the light, the warm & sunny paint tone, & she knew from experience the look on my face meant it would be mine. 

It was the first house we had seen that didn't NEED anything. It wasn't big or fancy, but it had been updated & cared for because it wasn't a stop-over for the family who sold it to me. It was their home. The home inspector confirmed this, & the deal-sealer was walking around the yard with the owner, looking at & talking about plants.  He kept a binder with pencilled notes re every plant variety (99.9% fruit bearing as decor was not a priority for the young family) he tried.  His toddler yanked up a passionfruit vine and presented it to me as we walked and talked. I think their decision to accept my offer, despite it being a bit under asking, was in whole or part based on the fascination I had with what he had planted & his equal enthusiasm as I described moving my then-fledgling, now-burgeoning (a healthy addiction, as described by David) orchid collection to the huge porch. 

Fast forward seven years and here I am, firmly believing the accurate description of the property should have been 'one bedroom/one bath/one transformer.'  At least that is how it has been for me.  Close friends would say my inability to stop tweaking things is exceeded only by my inability to finish sorting and cleaning surfaces. The piles on my desk are legendary and completely characteristic of my personality, and evidently I don't have the sense to find shame in that fact.  I think I am the home decor  equivalent of a shark. If I don't continually move forward, I cease to exist. Eclectic is a kind word, coined by people who couldn't understand what the hell I was thinking when I put seven Wood Tones in one room.  Occasionally something might match, but that is usually just due to odds, certainly not to plan.  To date, the transformer room has been a guest bedroom, a workroom, a home-office, half guestroom/half office, a full studio, and as of yesterday, it is manifesting as a loungey, sometimes work/ sometimes play area, ready to watch movies and do laundry.  My huge desk is now surrounded by three windows, providing fabulous natural light and making Seaglass sorting a joy. Those windows also face the orange flamboyant tree, One of the few purely decorative touches I am so grateful for in my yard.  

The best part of having a transformer room is the friends who help transform, whether they share or question my vision.  Love & back braces to them all!!!