5 True Confession: Sometimes cover up is just as good as clean

Since we are friends, I find it important that we keep honesty at the forefront of our relationship. 98% of the time (unless I’m taking after photos for the blog or hosting one of the gazillion bridal showers penciled into my springtime schedule) the old casa looks less like this…

…and more like this…



By nature I’m not a clutter bug. Everything has its place, but life has a way of kicking the Suzy homemaker in all of us right in the gut and shoving us out the door to take on the day. Laundry can wait. The beds can stay unmade for a few more hours. A extra dish or two can hold their horses until I roll back into the construction site at 5:00.

But one thing that can’t wait? Absolutely intolerable? June bug stank.



Lord help me. I love this little puppy nugget with all my heart, but the only reason she gets to stay in this house (other than the obvious snuggle benefits) is because she is a relatively tidy pup and should the slightest hint of pet odors drift my way, I have an army of cover ups to combat the problem.

Let’s snoop through my arsenal…

Glade plug-ins (clean linen scents) in both living rooms. I can’t handle a knock-you-out-of-your-rocker level of artificial fragrance, but if I can trick myself into thinking a load of laundry has been done that day, I’m alright with it.



Glade fabric & air refresher, also in clean linen. You’d think I was a spokeslady for Glade, but really the only reason I use this brand is because by now I feel like we can all spot the smell of Febreze a mile away. I want to trick my houseguests into thinking this place is squeaky clean and just how am I supposed to do that if their nose is telling them I ran around with a bottle of Febreze minutes before they walked in the door?



Good ol’ scentsy. I jumped on the scentsy bandwagon a few months ago and there is no turning back. Clean scents like White Tea & Cactus and Clean Breeze are heavenly.
 

Come on now. I know I’m not the only dirty kid on the playground. What are your favorite tips and tricks (mainly, tricks) for fooling yourself and others into thinking your house is cleaner than it really is?

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2 What Where When Why

What: Bananas. Really old bananas.

Where: Pulled out from underneath the red dresser in my dining room.

When: About two weeks late for their date with the trash truck.

Why: A simple reminder of how kitchen remodels test the sanity of even the most project-loving do-it-yourselfer.

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1 True Confession: Living in the present(s)

Very little DIY gets accomplished around these parts on Christmas Eve Eve aside from wrapping presents. Fortunately I have a killer assistant who dishes out tons of puppy snuggles and smooches as reward for a hard day’s work.



Don’t worry, friends. My dining room table rarely doubles as an actual eating space.

From my construction site to yours, Merry Christmas, y’all!

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0 True Confession: Not a Know-It-All…Really

Around these parts, today is one of the happiest days of my year. Second to Christmas (and a certain LTHL blogger’s birthday…all fingers point to me) the first day of school is one of my best days. Sure, I’ve been out of the old classroom for quite some time now, but I still have a terribly difficult time fighting the compulsion to pick up a few school office supplies and couple pairs of new jeans this time of year...but let’s be honest with ourselves, 803 DIY blog posts in, it’s clear to all of us that I’m a word nerd and have a serious love affair with learning…which leads me to today’s true confession.

True Confession: I’m not a know-it-all…really.

While at first blog glance it may appear that I am an extreme do-it-yourself expert with a slew of rehabbing, restoring, and remodeling how-tos etched inside this brain of mine at birth, it’s all really just a bunch of smoke and mirrors. Sure I tackle and insane amount of DIY projects that I actually do complete on my own, but the large majority of them involve Google, YouTube how-to videos, and Am I doing this right? phone calls to Mom & Dad. Paired with my incredibly nerdy can’t-sleep-until-I’ve-learned-something-new-today compulsion and stubborn independence, it’s no wonder the first day of school still gives me butterflies. The chance to learn something new and pat yourself on the back for an accomplishment well deserved are the stuff my DIY dreams are made off.

…and because nothing gives me a kick quite like dragging out (slightly embarrassing) photos from the family vault, here’s a little back to school goodness circa 1992. Don’t worry, big sis has since had lasik and doesn’t have to haul around those specs any longer.

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6 Quick Question: Hoard Much?

Relatively speaking, I’m a pretty clutter free creature—especially after watching an episode or two of Buried Alive or Hoarders. In fact, after such viewing, it may be argued that I have the opposite problem in the form of a selective case of home OCD.

Case in point: my refrigerator. 

Clean at all times with three exceptions: a shopping list, invitations that have yet to be written in my day planner at which point they will promptly be tossed in the trash and a framed magnetic photo of my sweet deceased puppy dog Ralph…OH! It’s also critical that all three permissible items are neatly arranged on the side of the fridge not the front. Very important.

Of course I feel sorry for my future children that their macaroni artwork won’t be showcased on the steely doors of my Frigidaire, but I find comfort knowing that surely such neglect will only build character. Besides, if they take after their mother, they’ll find a deep satisfaction in hoarding magazines. Stacks and stacks of magazines.

It recently dawned on me that a serious publication hoarding situation is brewing in my neck of the woods…



You may now be anticipating a come-to-Jesus moment where I admit my hoarding sins and vow to rid my house of every pre-2011 issue…but that’s just silly. We all need a hoarding vice. This is mine, and I know you have one too.

So spill your guts. What are you stashing away in that casa of yours?

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3 True Confession: Sand, Paint & Steal

I can’t tell you how excited I become when someone tells me that they read this little blog-o-mine, but when someone tells me that they read my blog AND are starting a furniture rehab project, I lose my mind. Happier than Christmas. 

This past weekend, at my grandfather’s wedding, one of my wonderful cousins and I were chit-chatting about her house when she told me that: #1 she reads my blog (big time hugs followed suit) and #2 she recently bought a coffee table to rehab (holy moly!)...I was on cloud nine that my very own flesh and blood was hopping on the DIY bandwagon—until the most poisonous words trickled out of her mouth—I’m just not so sure I can do it. I nearly keeled over. A family wedding and funeral in the same day just wouldn’t do.

After a little pep talk, my cousin and I parted with high hopes for rehabbing success and detailed instructions that she is to send the before & after pictures my way…but then I started thinking about how many other people have told me that they really want to tackle their own furniture rehab but just don’t know where to start. No worries, friends. I’ll tell you exactly what to do.

True Confession: Sink to my level and turn yourself into a stealing packrat.

You see, very few ideas fall into my lap out of the clear blue sky. When I see a magazine photo of a wall color I just can’t get enough of, I tear out the page and save for later inspiration. Should I fall head over heels in love with a living room I scouted online, I save the image to my laptop. Visiting a friend’s house and find myself green with envy over an end table? I snap a picture on my iPhone.

Don’t believe me? Take a gander at just a few of the knock offs that have worked their way into my Rehabilitation Station…



No excuses. You (and lovely-cousin-who-shall-not-be-named) can do it!…and send before & after pictures my way. You know the rules.

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0 True Confession: Dream Crusher

I was not raised Catholic. Not exactly. I was raised in the Episcopal church. Think all the hoopla of the Catholic church but without the guilt. We drank wine (and still do) and danced (and still do) but without a single Hail Mary or confession. It was and is glorious…but as a result, you are required to hear me confess an entire quarter of a century’s worth of I-probably-shouldn’t-haves in my very own ongoing blog confessional. What? You thought I dish out my DIY tips for free? Silly friend.


True Confession: I crush nostalgia.

Elaboration is needed…

Nearly every friend-client I meet invites me into their home for the first time with the same You’ve probably never seen a house this messy. I just didn’t have time to tidy up! disclaimer. Oh, trust this girl. I have, and worse. In our line of business it’s not uncommon to stumble upon hoarding situations, dirty unmentionables, and oh, I don’t know, entire rooms filled with “adult” entertainment, shall we say? We’ve seen lots…and lots.

AND if you’re as big of a home talker as I am, everyone wants to chat you up about the house they just bought or grew up in or where their piano teacher/first boyfriend/super hunky lifeguard lived…and I LOVE it. I could talk it up all day…until I crush nostalgia-packed memories by releasing comments such as these from my unfiltered mouth…


…Oh! I love that house! Man, you should have seen it before they cleaned all of the bat guano out of the attic….

…or…Yes! I know exactly which house you are talking about! I’m really glad the new owners could look past the pile of syringes in the basement and symbols spray painted on the walls…

…or…Great house! Best layout on the street! I remember when it was on the market, there was this gigantic self portrait of the owner in the dining room, and I swear to you, she had a beard thicker than most 40 year old men…Oh, that was your aunt’s house? Like I said, fabulous layout…


It happens. By now I’ve gotten pretty good at catching myself when I feel the inappropriateness bubbling from within, but should you stumble upon me after a long day or a glass of wine or two, you can’t say you weren’t adequately warned when I reveal that your granny hid a well-worn voodoo doll in the AC vent that carried a strikingly similar resemblance to your grandpa.

Happy Thursday, y’all!

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5 True Confession: Mow Problems

Ready for a Monday morning true confession? This one is tough for me to admit, especially since I pride myself on being the best do-it-yourselfer that I can be, but not once in my entire DIY life have I ever learned how to use a lawnmower. I know. Disgrace.

After reflecting on my childhood, I blame my mother (sorry, ma). Every time she headed out to mow the lawn, it was ordered that we kiddos stay huddled inside for fear the lawnmower would kick up every pebble in the yard and rocket them directly into our corneas.

Further enabling my lack luster yard-work skills, I always had wonderfully helpful family and friends offering to do the job for me, but this weekend with my yard reaching the terrifyingly disgraceful point where I found myself flying into my carport and quickly running inside for fear disapproving neighbors would start throwing stones at the sight of me, my dependency was to be put to an end. I was going to mow that stinkin’ yard myself.

Maybe I’m exaggerating the extent of the overgrowth? Let’s snoop a bit closer…


There were no more excuses. Donated by my parents a couple of years back, this fella was about to get in on the action.


…but with no owners manual and a plethora of scary all-caps danger signs, I felt the need for assistance. It is important that our fingers stay attached to our body after all.

 
Lawnmower go-to guru numero uno, Dad of course…but no answer. Mom? Straight to voicemail. Brother-in-law? At work, no response…Last resort: sister who I love dearly but is possibly hanging out in the shallow end of the DIY gene pool.


Jessica: Heeeeeeey! Whatcha doin?

Cara: Oh my goodness! You answered! I have a question and it’s starting to rain so I don’t have much time.

Jessica: Oh gosh, what is it?

Cara: Do you know how to start a lawnmower?

Jessica: silence

Cara: Jessica?


Needless to stay, I was not giving up on this one. For goodness sake, if I can perform full fledged open heart surgery on my hot water heater with great success, I could get this outdoor vacuum to cooperate.

All you have to do is pull that little cord right?…

…15 minutes later…

…push down the funny little bar, then pull the cord…

…10 minutes and a return phone call from Mom later…

…push the red button on the side 3 times, hold down bar, pull the cord with all your might…

…and away we go!

Note to self #1: The pit in your stomach after you get a haircut and realize how truly horrendous you looked before. Exact same feeling here.



Note to self #2: Enormous backyards are great for slip-n-slides and terrier mixes. Lawn maintenance is a completely different story.

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1 True Confession: My Bird Obsession

This bird watching hobby of mine is steadily becoming an all consuming obsession…

 

True confession: I’m seriously considering setting up a video camera in the event these little guys decide to fly the nest while I’m out showing property…and by “seriously considering”, I most definitely mean I’m already planning how to best rig my flip video camera on my front porch.

No worries. I’m fairly positive the mailman already thinks I’m certifiably insane.

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2 True Confession: Dumpster Diving

I have a sick obsession with junk, but if you’ve been here once or twice, that’s old news by now. Case in point: this guy smuggled from my parents’ trash can over the weekend. To be honest, I was shocked that my mom/giver-of-all-junk-obsessed-genes would let this one go, so I grabbed it and ran before she could change her mind…

Creaky and ancient and disgustingly perfect. Naturally this guy is now perched in my dining room…

Because nothing says appetite quite like a 50 year old crawlspace door.

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2 True Confession: Slacker Behavior

Since we are friends, I feel a terrible compulsion to be completely honest and open with you. Full disclosure. Slim to nothing has been happening around my construction site this week. Unless your definition of major progress is attacking furballs with the dust buster because you are too lazy to properly sweep, it’s slim pickins in the LTHL DIY department this week.

In a failed attempt to make myself feel a little better about my slacker behavior, I glanced back to what I was up to exactly one year ago today. Sure enough, Cara one-year-younger had been hard at work…and when I say Cara one-year-younger, I really mean Mike the-hardwoods-guy had been hard at work. I was just thrilled I was finally able to walk on my freshly buffed and polished floors.

 

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