Where's the house?

My brother, Sean, is our architect. He has done amazing work designing and redesigning our future home as our plans have been revised over the past few years.  At one time, we thought we would continue to live in the house and fix it up one room at a time.  Then we thought we would build the addition while living in the original house and then live in the addition while we redid the original space.

When the economy hit its low only a few months after we bought the house, we listened to advice to hold off construction plans. We couldn't justify putting savings into the house when the job market was so unstable.  Sean stepped up to the plate when we decided to re-do the bathroom after almost a year in the house.  Another year later, we began to get bids from contractors.  As have many couples before us, we realized that our home improvement projects were more than the two of us could take on.  We needed professionals.  Also, breaking up the project could leave us with a disjointed end product.

All along, however, we have known that we wanted to keep the original layout intact.  I like the separate dining room to the right as you walk in and the open entryway that looks straight through the house.  Sean's creative work has integrated new with old. His plans update the original house without erasing the past.

In February, my brother moved to Austin!!!  I am overjoyed to have him here.  Now, he, Rob, and I are together working as a team and watching the progress, walking by the house each day to see what's new.

A few weeks back, in a meeting with the city and through consultations with the engineer, our 1928 house was deemed structurally unsound.   The bad news: we would be taking down the entire house to rebuild.  The good news: we can reclaim the clapboard out of which the walls were framed and the new structure will go up more quickly. 

Last weekend was Easter weekend. Sean, Rob, and I went to Rob's family's ranch in Menard, TX to camp on Friday night and headed to his parents' lake house in Canyon Lake on Saturday and Sunday.  Before we left town, we watched the work begin again.  On Thursday, the roof began to come down.

When we returned, the clapboard walls were being reclaimed piece by piece.

By the end of the day on Monday...

Today, I rushed home from school.  All of the debris has been hauled off.  The toilet and bathtub, salvaged from the bathroom, and the shiplap and flooring have been safely stowed away in the builder's storage unit.

I wonder what I'll see when I come home tomorrow!!

Indoor icicles, a toilet skating rink, and a busted lip

It is not a coincidence that the memories associated with living in a tear-down have only now made it onto a blog. Sometimes it takes distance from an experience to see the humor in it.  I certainly wasn't giggling while I listened to Rob drill a hole in his nail or when I found cockroaches in my lunch box.  However, it is surprisingly funny to look back now with new clarity on times when I have wept with exhaustion or screamed in frustration.  Somehow, writing this blog is like a healing experience. 

For the last two months our construction project has been on hold due to the sorts of obstacles that tend to hinder these types of projects.  However, today, when I walked by our property, there was a new update. The shed is gone. 

The construction work continues and so must my healing process.

And so, today I'm ready to continue on the road to recovery.  I'm ready to tell the story of "the fall".
 ...

I will never forget the site of the officer's flashlight in my eyes, the taste of the blood dripping from my punctured lip, or the feeling of my face skidding across the concrete. 

Texas is known for its extreme weather.  Last summer we experienced 90 consecutive days of triple-digit temperatures.  The winter before, we hit all-time lows.  When you live in a house with holes in the floors, cracks in the windows, and no insulation, the extreme weather is not for the faint of heart.

Rob was out of town for work when the temperatures dropped below 20 degrees.  We had just gotten our new puppy, Risa.  With Rob out of town, it was my responsibility to take her for a walk.  Before we left, I made sure the faucets were dripping.  With no insulation (not even any skirting around the base of the house due to foundation work), the pipes were completely exposed to the elements and I worried they would freeze solid.

I wrapped a wool scarf around my neck, pulled on my calf-length vintage leather coat and tightened the belt around my waist.  I changed into comfortable tennies, grabbed the leash, and off we went.  As we were passing the school where I taught, I noticed a light on in the art room. My friend, Sarah, was still at work.  We stopped by to say hello.

When I noticed it was getting dark, I knew I'd better get back.  We were only half a mile from home, but I was in a hurry.  I had a tour to give of the new Dual Language Program at the school in the morning and knew that it would be a cold night's sleep, even wrapped up in sweatshirts, scarves, and zipped up in a down sleeping bag built for temps of 20 below.

Risa and I chose to head back down S 5th Street, the route with the most street lights.  "Let's run home, Risa!" I whispered and we took off.  I guess the street lights weren't quite bright enough.  Or maybe the trees cast a shadow over the spot in the sidewalk where their roots had pushed the cement uneven at its seam. 

Before we'd run even a block, my toe hit the crack.  I shot forward.  It was one of those moments when you're thinking, Thank goodness I caught myself and didn't fall on my face.  I stumbled for a moment, taking two more choppy steps but failing to regain balance. Risa jerked forward and with my hands still warm in my pockets, there was nothing but my face to break (or brake) my fall.  I think my cheek bone hit first. Or maybe it was my tooth. Or my chin? I skid on my skin a bit before I stopped, sprawled out and quite a sight.  Risa took off.  Just as I began to pull myself up onto my knees, a police cruiser approached, its lights shining on me, spotlighting my humiliation.  The young officer got out of the car, asking me if I was alright. To be honest, I wasn't yet quite sure.

"I'll get the dog," he suggested.  I remember looking down and seeing the blood on my white scarf.  I could feel the gritty gravel in my lip and my front tooth was loose. I could only imagine how I looked and only the presence of this stranger kept me from weeping right then and there.

When he returned with Risa, he saw my scuffed face and winced.  He shone his flashlight real close when I asked if he thought I'd need stitches.  He was sure I'd be fine, once I cleaned up a bit.  When he offered to drive me and Risa home, I couldn't refuse.

We arrived to West Johanna Street.
"Anyone home to help you get cleaned up?"
"No. My husband's out of town."
"Would you like me to wait until you get inside?"
"No, no. I'm fine. Thank you so much for the ride home."

Risa and I hurried through the gate and up the back stairs (our front door hasn't opened since we leveled the house).  I slipped my hand in my jacket pocket and felt... nothing.  My keys!!

It was then that I began to cry.  I called Rob.  Who knows what I said in that moment through my sobs.  Probably something like, "20 degrees.  No keys. Locked out. Loose tooth. Bleeding.  Freezing. What do I do?"

"Calm down, baby.  You can reach your hand in the doggie door and unlock the door.  Put the phone down and try."

Even when I pushed my scraped and bruised face up against the wood, I couldn't quite reach.  I'd have to go back to the scene of the accident in search of my keys.  I kept Rob on the phone with me.  He spoke calmly, doing his best to keep my mind off of the bitter cold that seemed to be freezing my tears.  I was almost back to that dreaded crack in the sidewalk when I heard my keys jing-jingling.

????

"I can hear my keys! I think they're in my pocket! I'll call you back!" I mumbled through my now swollen lip.

I searched my pocket again and felt a tiny hole.  The keys had slipped into the lining of my jacket and were now hanging down near the backs of my knees. I stood there on S 5th Street for a few moments, fishing the keys back up through the teeny hole. I sighed and rushed back toward home, a little concerned that I might run into someone I knew but, this time, careful to watch my step.

Once inside, I prioritized my next moves. First, I called my mother for pity.  Then, I left a weepy message for my principal to let her know that she'd have to find a replacement for the bilingual tour I had scheduled for 8am the next morning.  The sight of me would surely scare away any potential parents.  Next, I took several pictures of my concrete-beaten face.  I cleaned my cuts with alcohol and carefully washed my face.  My lip and cheek continued to swell and color, but at least my gums began to tighten around my tooth which did not appear to be damaged after all.


I slept with a scarf swaddled around my neck and a sleeping bag cinched around my mangled mug.  Rob, rerouted back to Austin for the night due to snow in Dallas, kissed my forehead and slept by my side, cocooned in his own sleeping bag.

In the morning, I said farewell to Rob as he headed back to the airport and hello to the icicles that had frozen inside our home on our bathroom and kitchen faucets. The pipes were frozen and the water in our low-flow toilet was as solid as an ice skating rink.  The last thing I wanted to do was be seen in public, but I was freezing and in need of a shower.  I packed a towel and a change of clothes and put on the largest pair of sunglasses I could find.  I left for the Y.  I kept my head down and hoped people in the locker room would think I had just worked out.  I did my best to ignore the curious and concerned stares and to pull my sweater over my head without getting it stuck to my soft scabs.

The healing process took a few weeks.  Our close friends, the Vohls, took me in for a few nights until the freeze broke, our pipes thawed, and Rob had mended the cracked plumbing (a story for another time).  We enjoyed a snow day and I enjoyed the central heat and the company.  For awhile, wherever Rob and I went we were aware of the concerned glances.  My principal even sent me home from work my first day back explaining that she was afraid I would frighten the children.

Today, the scars, like the shed in our back yard, have disappeared.  I keep the photo to remind myself that, 1. things could be worse and 2. to always watch my step!

A beard and a tutu in heaven

Leslie, who I wrote about in my last blog post, passed away last night. He had suffered from a head injury inflicted in what must have been a hate crime last year and never fully recovered. 

Many throughout Austin and in the Bouldin Creek neighborhood will remember him fondly.

A beard and a tutu

One setback to our new set up on West Johanna Street was our lack of a hook up for a washer and dryer.  When Rob and I split up domestic responsibilities, I took on the job of going to the nearby laundromat.  I was in graduate school and I figured that while I was waiting for each load I could get some reading done.  Most Sundays (unless we were out of town, in which case we brought our laundry with us and burdened our hosts with a few loads), I would head out to wash my dirty laundry in public.

In the end, I got very little reading done on those trips.  It turned out that many of the families of the students I taught also liked to come to this same laundromat on Sundays.  I would talk to parents about how their children were doing in school, getting the chance to practice my Spanish as I folded Rob's undershirts or my pajamas. 

One day, as I dragged three large laundry bags from my car to the bench inside the 'washateria', it wasn't a parent nor a student I saw.  It was someone even more familiar around Austin--Leslie.  He was sporting a leather vest over a bare, leathery chest and a pink tutu.  His cowboy hat tipped over his eye and his heels clicked as he walked toward me.

"There she is!" he said in his scratchy yet jovial voice.  I smiled and laughed a little.  "I've been looking for you," he continued.

"Oh, really?" I snickered as I hoisted my santa-size bag over my shoulder and pulled the door open.  I'd seen Leslie around the neighborhood several times. Rob had even spotted him checking out the dryer we'd put out on our curb. But we had never spoken.

"You look like someone who would like to drive me to H.E.B," he said flirtatiously.  Leslie followed me as I took my usual seat on the bench. I recognized a few families inside the laundromat and I wondered what they were thinking when they saw la maestra walk in with this scantily clad, bearded man.

"Sorry, Leslie, I have a lot of laundry to do," I apologized as he plopped down next to me, close enough for me to get a good look at the wear that walking the streets in the Texas sun has had on his body. 

"I have an idea."  Leslie didn't give up easily. "Put your wash in, drive me to H.E.B., and when you come back, your clothes will be ready for the dryer."

His plan had few flaws.  His supermarket destination was less than a 5 minute drive away.  I'd be back before the first cycle was complete.  "My husband doesn't like for me to leave his clothes unattended. I need to stay here to keep an eye on everything. Sorry, Leslie," I lied.

Leslie laughed as he stood up.  "You know what? You're right.  You leave your undies in that washing machine and you never know what man might be wearing them around Austin tomorrow!"  As he jauntily left to find a more willing chauffeur, his tutu bounced like that of a ballerina, exposing his black thong and tan buttocks to all.

After a little over a year of trips to the laundromat, Rob and a carpenter/handyman, Dave, put in a washer/dryer hook up in a nook just outside our new bathroom.  After much deliberation and research, we bought the most beautiful front-loading set I've ever seen.  While I am ever so grateful each time I can do a load of laundry in my very own home, I must admit that I do sometimes miss the company I enjoyed on the corner of Oltorf and S 5th streets. I have yet to find another place where I can mingle in Spanish, get some household chores done, and chat with cross-dressing, local celebrities.

A House Full of Furniture

Rob moved back to the states from Buenos Aires only days after his 30th birthday.  A few months before, we had made the decision together that we would be moving to Austin.  Rob went to UT, loved Austin, and we had a few mutual friends who would, coincidentally, also be moving to ATX from Argentina. Plus, for me, Texas seemed a more logical transition from the slow-paced Latin American world I'd grown accustomed to than heading straight back to the hustle and bustle of Washington, DC.

Lincoln, the International School of Buenos Aires, where I taught, required several months notice so that they had time to recruit new teachers from the states.  It may have been as early as November or December when I let them know that I would not be returning for a fourth year.

As soon as we decided we'd be heading back stateside, Rob began to let friends and ex-colleagues know that he'd be looking for work in Austin.  Sooner than we'd anticipated, a friend of Rob's was able to set him up with an interview.  Rob would need to be back in Texas by mid-February if he hoped to be considered for the position.  With a three year hiatus explained as 'world-travel' on his resume, Rob decided he should go ahead and be there.

Rob would be turning 30 on the 11th of February, so I organized a large birthday/going away party for him.  It was a great party with so many friends we'd grown close to in those 2 or so years we spent together in Buenos Aires.  However, this send-off did come with a bit of pressure.

Rob's and my decision to make this international move together was a serious one.  I'd be leaving a pretty cush job.  To live in Texas.  Rob's days of reading books, walking the city, and hopping from one Latino country to the next had come to an end.  He was not only turning 30, he was also now in a serious relationship, heading back to find a job and to rent a house so that we could set up a life together. No pressure.

I wouldn't be moving to Austin until June and had plans to visit just once in May to go to a job fair.  I would be, essentially, committing to Austin sight-unseen.  I'd never been.

Once back in town, Rob was blessed with many friends and family members ready to put him up, help out with interviews, and offer hand-me-down furniture.  For awhile, Rob lived with his parents in Houston.  Finding that it was tough to get interviews satellite (the first interview didn't pan out until after he'd accepted another one months later).  His friends, Ross and Scott Perkins, put him up for several months in Austin while he continued to interview.

When Rob found the rental house in South Central Austin where we lived for two years, he accepted each of the couches, recliners, tables, and bookshelves that were offered as help to get us started.  By the time I joined Rob  in Austin about four months later, we actually had more couches than we could fit in our living space.  When a donation would come to us that was newer or more comfy than the last, we would trade them out.

One recliner that we inherited will never be forgotten.  It was a cozy recliner but during the months we had it, we didn't use it much.  Once, when my mom came to visit, she suggested that we pare down our collection of second-hand pieces.  The space was too cramped.  We agreed that we could do without the recliner.

We love the fact that both on Ethel Street, where we lived those first two years, and now on Johanna, we can put pretty much anything out on the street and it will be taken within hours, literally.  We've gotten rid of washers, dryers (yes, plural), furniture, wood, lamps... you name it... without ever having to make a trip to Good Will.  Rob actually spotted Austin's famous Leslie Cochran checking out our dryer when we put it outside our West Johanna house.

So, my mom, Rob, and I put the black recliner out on the curb and by morning it was gone.  It was one of those decisions that was hard to make but that felt like the right thing once it was final (or so we thought).

About a month later, Rob and I arrived home after a night out with friends.  Our headlights shone on the sidewalk as we pulled up to park. What was that on our curb? Could it be?

It was our black recliner.  Someone had taken it, used it for a month, and then returned it to our front stoop!!!  We laughed in disbelief, walked passed it and once inside, called my mom to share the funny and slightly bizarre story.  None of us could quite understand how returning the chair to our yard was more convenient than just putting it back out on the street.  While the chair was gone again by morning and we haven't seen it since, who knows when it might come back to us again?  Once the house is built we might just be glad to have it back!

Our transition from a care and responsibility-free life in Buenos Aires has been full of its challenges.  However, in a few short months, filling our brand new dream house with furniture is surely a challenge we can look forward to.

"My baby wants internet"

The day after Rob drilled a hole in his fingernail, we had an appointment with Time Warner.  Ever since we moved abroad, Rob and I have foregone television or cable service, doing our best to minimize the time we spend in front of the boob tube.  No doubt, though, that once back in the states we did begin to stream series such as Parks and Recreation or The Office on the web.  Like many Americans in the grind of 40-60 hour weeks, we often found ourselves reading less books and watching more movies and sitcoms.  We also get all of our news online and, of course, keep up with friends and family via email.

So when we moved onto West Johanna Street, having access to the internet was about as important as having access to the food in our new refrigerator. We would starve without wireless.

Rob and I were both home when the nice man in his early thirties showed up to re-connect us to the world wide web.  We welcomed him with smiles.  He took a look at the house and realized that the previous owners had not had internet set up.  The only way to get us hooked up was to climb twenty feet up a telephone pole located on the corner across the street from our house.  "Those are live wires up there," he told us.  We looked back at him, not sure what he was trying to say.  He had on construction boots, jeans, and a tool belt and looked fit and more than capable of  climbing the ladder that he had in his truck. He looked back at us.  "I've got new baby twins at home," was his response to our confused faces. "That's gotta be 20, 25 feet up that pole."

Rob and I looked at each other, a little bewildered that the internet guy was not prepared to set up our internet.

"I'm an engineer," Rob said with authority that implied that his degree qualified him to scale telephone poles. "If you can just tell me where to attach the connector, I can do it." 

I raised my eyebrows. "Rob, the wedding is in less than a week.  If you are on crutches down the aisle..."  My tone was concerned and argumentative.  However, I had seen Rob climb plenty of trees even with a chainsaw in one hand.  He has done a little bit of rock climbing and is incredibly agile.  Plus, I really did want that internet hooked up. 

"I'll be fine," Rob said nonchalantly. 

"At least change your shoes," I suggested.  There was my mistake. Rob was wearing flip flops, absolutely not designed for climbing anything.  Anyone who knows Rob knows that a suggestion to wear something other than what he feels like wearing seals the deal. He will not change.  Furthermore, my request for him to tie on some sneakers was like saying I didn't think he could make the climb in flip flops.  I had, essentially, five days before my wedding, just dared my fiance to climb a 20 foot ladder in flip flops and balance there while weaving his arm through live electrical wires just so I could watch Grey's Anatomy. 

The Time Warner guy braced the bottom of the ladder.  "We're getting married next week," I told the stranger who was spotting my husband's latest stunt. He gripped the rungs tighter.  I stood in front of our house and watched Rob ascend, the wire clutched in one hand, his flip flops bending over each step. Once Rob had reached the top, the cable guy shouted instructions such as "NOT that one!" or "Careful, now!" up to Rob.

Rob slowly wove his arm through the live cables and connected our wire.  As he was removing his fingers from the nest of electricity, the cable guy said, "Your husband's got guts.  He's pretty determined to get the internet set up."

Rob, having heard this compliment, smiled and paused his descent. He called down the motivation for his perilous adventure, "Well, my baby says she wants internet!"

And, I have to admit, that ever since meeting Rob I have everything that I want. ;)  

1 bathroom in 1 weekend

Before the foundation or demolition of the addition, came the bathroom.  For our first 8 months on West Johanna Street, each time I stepped into the shower, I felt the plastic floor sag, threatening to give.  As I stepped back out, I would try not to touch the mold-covered foam insulation busting out of the cracks of the piecemeal shower.  I shuffled across the bathroom floor, the loose linoleum tiles shifting around the room with me.  I leaned down to the tiny sink and bought plastic drawers at Target to avoid having to put my cosmetics into the dark wooden cabinet. Even once Rob had blocked out the bugs, I never got over the images of cockroaches falling out of that medicine cabinet.  The windowless room with the pepto pink walls and mustard yellow closet was suffocating and, pathetically, more than I could bear. 

The excitement of owning our first home had worn off and I just couldn't get used to that bathroom. I guess I complained about it enough that our friends eventually decided to put aside their plans for the 3-day Memorial day weekend.  A few months before, my brother, Sean, designed the plans. My mom and Sean came to visit to help choose the tile.  Our neighbor, Al, put us in contact with a tile guy and a sheet rock guy.

And Tim and Aaron and Rob spent three days straight tearing down those rotting walls, ripping out that decomposing subfloor, and throwing away that toilet, sink, flooring, and shower.  Rob got into the ceiling and vacuumed up years worth of cockroach and rat droppings.  Tim, with his experience as a contractor, guided the process and put his large truck to work with several Home Depot hauls. Aaron, having remodeled his own home, framed in walls, screwed in the hardiboard, and helped with the floor tile.  We even found a window behind the shower that let in sunlight and fresh air.  Rob took over the plumbing and the two of us grouted the tile floor.

Throughout the weekend I picked up food: P. Terry's, La Mexicana, Torchy's, and passed out beer after beer.  Whatever helped make the job more enjoyable!  The three of them worked like crazy, prying out walls and new ones up in their place before I could get back with the next meal.  I wanted to cry out with joy as I watched the bathroom be transformed. 
What good friends. What a great job! What a shiny new bathroom!

The vanity that Rob's uncle, Stuart, had given us on one trip to Waco to visit fit perfectly into place. We found an old wooden locker/cabinet at the Habitat for Humanity Re store. I painted it white, Rob built in cedar shelves, and we had a new, free standing linen closet.


Over the next two and a half years, I may have taken more baths than in the previous 30 years combined.  There was something to be said for a brand new space where I could escape the peeling wallpaper, see-through floors, and patched up ceilings.  The bathroom was truly a group effort with a lasting effect for which I will be forever grateful!!

Can you see those blue skies?

I decided to stop by the house after work and...!!!

Our master bedroom will be in the rear of the house

The main room will be here, a few small steps down from the original house

Here you can see the lot from the back corner.

This is the view of the layout from standing inside the current structure

Unbelieveable, isn't it?  Can you see those Blue Skies shining?  It's a beautiful day (77 degrees on February 1st!) and a beautiful site on West Johanna Street!