Rear View Window

Let's not neglect the back of Barbie's Dream House. There will be a screened porch in the lower left corner and a giant outdoor movie screen above it!

Minimalist Merry Christmas

Martha Stewart may be crying in her homemade, organic eggnog, but Barbie's Dream House is styling with a mass-produced wreath from the grocery store.

Snow Falling on Cedar

Ok, I concede that, as "that lawyer from Chicago" pointed out to me, Barbie's Dream house is not built of cedar, but I couldn't resist the literary allusion.

Paint & Switch

Determined to paint Barbie's Dream House a classic "beach glass" color, i.e., blue/green/gray, I sent photos and paint chips to our builder for siding samples. The samples came back in slightly different versions of that chalky pastel green mint candy that looks like little pillows- not what I want to be reminded of every time I come home. So, we are searching for a more tasteful, blue/grey, similar to the color of this house:

Please Mr. Postman, Look and See...

We have a mailbox, so that must mean we have an address!

638 South Lincoln

If I Had A Hammer......

Barbie's Dream House is rapidly taking shape. Clearly, Tyvek is the Louis Vuitton of the homebuilding industry, or Ken wouldn't approve it.

Winter Lumberland

This is all a man needs to be happy: a pile of lumber and a dumpster.

Concrete Shoes and Cement Overcoats

These references to mob-style retribution have nothing to do with my newly-poured basement floor, just the first concrete reference that popped into my head.

Gawk & Stalk

I have been driving circles around our charming village like a paparazzo stalking a celebrity. The quarry? The rare and elusive chimney brick, paint color and window style. I have "that lawyer from Chicago" on speed dial in case I get arrested on a stranger's porch with my Benjamin Moore color fan deck.

Home of the Future Man Cave

As Barbie would never go down to the basement except to visit her laundry and craft room,  it wouldn't matter if the basement of her dream house stayed exactly like this:

Another Brick In The Wall

 Don't tell "that lawyer from Chicago" but I'm thinking this will be the perfect Christmas present. Luckily, the chimney on Barbie's Dream House cannot be seen from the street.

Note to self: ask realtor if this will affect re-sale value.

Truckloads of Fun

Yes, we pay people to do this....

Form Follows Function, Right?

The wall in this picture reminds me of a fort built by my boys long ago. (It's actually the form used to make the foundation walls and floor.) I only wish we could employ them as indentured labor in the building process. They would enjoy pouring concrete, learn a useful skill,  and we would enjoy substantial savings.

When It Rains, It Pours

 It may not appear obvious from these photos, but it has been pouring rain for the last 24 hours. Our intrepid crew (led by a charming, young Irishman), continues the prep work for the foundation.

I can't decide if the second photo looks more like the DEA burying a giant cocaine cache or the foundation for Barbie's Backyard Beach.

Black Holes Do Exist

The remains of our teardown bungalow have disappeared into a series of dump trucks, courtesy of Mike Mulligan and his Steam Shovel.

Next, Mike will dig out a new basement for Barbie's Dream House, which will sit atop Ken's Wunderbar Workshop.

Chain, chain, chain

Loving the chain link look. Chanel could not have accessorized it better. (Either that or unknown protesters are staging a "Save the Bungalow" demonstration.)

Chainsaw Massacre

Our excellent tree crew worked for two full days cutting down and removing almost all the trees on the lot where we will build Barbie's Dream House.

Con Permiso!

We are finally permitted, so we are permitted to start Barbie's Dream House! I delivered the checks for permits and bonds to the Village today, amid much grumbling from "that lawyer from Chicago" about what we are getting for all that $$, and we hope to take the chainsaws to the trees this week.

I Sit and Watch as Time Goes By

We are now 60 days and counting past the date we hoped to break ground on Barbie's Dream House. For entertainment,  I have started purging the contents of the boxes we moved from our old house to the spare rooms of the rental villa.  Every time I un-tape a carton of my belongings -stuff I have not seen or thought about for 6+ months- I find myself tossing shoes, purses and clothes on the "give-away" pile. Hildegarde would be proud!

Blogged Down

Blog Schmlog. Who said this would be fun? Building a house may be interesting, but clearly, getting ready to build a house is not.

In-BLOG-nito

"That lawyer from Chicago" rewarded my diligence in planning Barbie's Dream House with 2 tix to the US Open in Flushing Meadows, NY. My friend, MA and I, and the view in Arthur Ashe Stadium.

Dog Days of Summer

The most important member of the family finally gets a professional photo session!

Tomorrow Will Be Today Tomorrow

These last few postings are a new kind of procrastination- a techy version of avoiding the task at hand- my electronic enabler. While "that lawyer from Chicago" is educating himself on foam insulation and double checking the measurements of our cupola, I am researching new uniforms for my tennis team and finalizing a trip the US Open in NYC.

Crushed Stone

It may appear that HouseLife has taken a long vacation, but actually the story is not so relaxing. I did visit Denver for a birthday celebration but mainly I have been distracted by less pleasant activities. Barbie's Dream House is not yet under construction (and doesn't even have a permit) so the crushed stone we are talking about is not a selection for a garden walkway, but a procedure to rid me of kidney stones.

Nada, Zip, Zero,

As there is no news on the status of the permits necessary to start building Barbie's Dream House, I hopped a plane to Denver to celebrate the birthday of my firstborn. He is standing in front of the requisite college dump, aka "Ken's Nightmare." (A larger picture would reveal the extent of its "dumpyness" more clearly.) You may notice a piece of high quality, C&B patio furniture to the left of the front door. It was part of a set gifted by a generous neighbor and not indicative of the lifestyle underwritten by the 'rents.

Paint and Agony

A plethora of paint options exist for Barbie's Dream House. "That lawyer from Chicago" says ixnay to the blue/green/gray color on this clapboard siding. Shall we put it up for a vote?

First Class Cabin

Another view of our friends' Charlevoix vacation home-a true Michigan cabin.

Dantes Inferno Is No Divine Comedy

The only good thing to be said about our recent heat wave is that it is not interfering with the construction of Barbie's Dream House. The only reason the weather has not been an impediment to the building process is because there is no house in process; no subs to feel sorry for in the sweltering heat.

...and on the Seventh Day She Rested

"That lawyer from Chicago" and I escaped the rental villa (and the kids, the dog, the heat and the stress) and drove "up north" (northern Michigan to the uninitiated) for a weekend at the lakefront cabin of friends.

Nothing better than sunny days and cool nights, a boat ride and a bar-b-que to recalibrate the stress-o-meter.

Houston, We Have Lift Off!

Whoever said "remember to celebrate the small stuff" (or is that "don't sweat the small stuff?") was most certainly talking about building a house. This week we are celebrating the filing of the mountains of paperwork necessary to get a building permit for Barbie's Dream House. Stay tuned for the countdown to permit day!

Whine List

Friends and acquaintances often remark that it must be great to be able to build a house and have everything "exactly the way you want it." These are the reasons why I want people to stop saying this to me:

• I am grown-up enough to no longer insist that everything be the way I want it.
• I have finally un-loaded our old house, the original money pit, and was not looking for another project.
• I have finally off-loaded our 2 (smart, caring, handsome!) dependents to outrageously expensive institutions of higher education and everyone is happy, happy with their situations. (See reason #2)

Charm City

This is not Barbie's dream house. As it turns out, Midge lives around the corner and has fabulous taste.

4th of July Holidaze

"That lawyer from Chicago" and I are trying to use the holiday weekend to finalize our house plans and enjoy the 4th of July traditions of our small village in the 'burbs.

Even though my own attempts at displaying holiday spirit at our rental villa are somewhat minimalist, others in town (as evidenced by the next photo) have made a more substantial effort.

Slow, Slow, Slow Your Boat

If our application for a building permit was a watercraft, it would be a slow boat to China. To further massacre the nautical analogy (or the China references), this whole permit process is turning into Chinese water torture.
My wonderful, detail-driven spouse, (hereafter referred to as "that lawyer from Chicago") has been trying valiantly to stop torturing me with daily interrogations about our progress.

Bulldozer Bungalow

Power to the People

Our village was hit by a short, but fierce storm Tuesday night that knocked out the power and downed hundreds of old trees. Bad enough, right? But the power in our rental villa was out for four long and dreary days. The houses across the street had power so each night we would gaze over in envy and anger. Many of our neighbors without power fired up their gas generators, which sound as if someone is mowing the lawn underneath your window 24/7.

What does this have to do with building Barbie's Dream house? Nothing, as in nothing got done this week. No building permit applied for because no one involved had power.

Money, Money, Money, Muh-nee

The title of this post is supposed to be a clever reference to the O'Jays song "For the Love of Money." If you don't get it, you are either way too young or I am way too impressed with my cleverness.

The real point here is that our money seems to be leaking from our checking account before we have dug even a spoonful of dirt. That detestable, detached garage needs to sit on hallowed ground; graded, leveled, retained and drained.

The Slippery Slope

It turns out that the tiny box that represents the garage of our new house will not stay put on the blueprints. We finally agreed  that my plan to put the garage facing the street was best (no surprise to readers of this blog) and now we find out that the lot is sloped 4.5 feet from front to back. (Garage door at the bottom of a slope= water in the garage.) This little hill is turning into the residential architecture equivalent of the Hoover Dam and is threatening to cost as much.

The Best Laid Plans...

Waiting for our plans to be ready for submission to the Village's permit approval process seems more exhausting than waiting for our first son to be born (30 hours, but who's counting.) There are tree surveys and land surveys and topographical surveys and copies of plans and surveys that far exceed any multiple noun I can come up with (triplicate squared?) There is no blame to be placed or mis-placed here, just a process designed in the "hurry up and waste time" mode.

The Last Gas(p)

A mountain of details seem to be escaping my notice lately. Escaping might be an exaggeration since I wasn't really aware of many of these details in the first place. For example, do we leave the gas and electricity turned on in a house we will be tearing down? (Answer: yes to the electricity, no to the gas.) Who could know that the gas company would insist on sending a serviceman to turn on the service before they would agree to cut if off?

Deadline or Dead in the Water

My husband reminds me frequently (and not without justification) that our rental villa has a one-year lease. No short-term or month-to-month option available here.  And no one in their right mind would be willing to move three times in little more than a year. But that is the booby prize for homebuilders like us, if we cannot meet the one-year deadline to complete my own little version of Barbie's dream house.

Garage Banned

Both our builder and architect are discouraging me from changing the design of the garage of our new house from a traditional, 2-car to a more unique 2-car design. I have decided to keep my innovative garage design a secret for now so as not to invite ridicule (or copycats.) Of course, a rank design/construction novice like me had no problem coming up with a solution to our little garage puzzle because I have not even a passing acquaintance with zoning and lot size restrictions. What I do know is that we have one week to decide where we will park our cars.

Mow, Mow, Mow the Lawns

As we were not among the lucky souls that went to their heavenly reward yesterday, we are stuck here on earth with not one, but two lawns to mow; our rental villa and our new house. Since we cannot tear down the old house (more on that later, all you preservationists) for a month or more, we must maintain it so as not to advertise its attractions to all the bored teenagers in town.

The End of the Worry

If the world is coming to an end tomorrow, as predicted by the evangelical Family Radio host Harold Camping, I have just wasted a huge chunk of our money buying real estate. The real "rapture" would be if I could wake up a year from now living in my new house.

Real Estate Reality

It occurred to me yesterday, after a meeting with our architect and builder, that we really are building a house. And this house will need to be finished, furnished and tied up in a "Traditional Home" bow.  Not quite an epiphany, more like a recurring smack on the hand.  An instant-replay of high-anxiety. That's why I didn't want to build a house.

Golf Shoes Re-Dux

Having searched unsuccessfully for my old sloppy-weather golf shoes for the 30+ days we have lived in our charming rental house, I forced my husband to go through all the boxes in the basement and closets again. He finally found them in a box marked “Fragile-front hall mirror” (written in his handwriting, I might add) and proceeded to do that guy bragging thing until I threatened to harm him. That box also contained some files I was looking for and my garden clogs. Another successful day in “splitsville,” (not our marital state but our temporary home.)

The Journey Begins

Among the many things I swore I would never do when I convinced my husband to sell our home of 20 years- move twice in a year, rent a house, build a house, move hundreds of boxes of rarely used possessions, lose track of important personal possessions (like my golf shoes,) - I now find that all my energy is directed toward the third. Building a house is not my dream. It’s not a life-long goal, it’s not on my bucket list, more like my upchuck list.