This is a working room and all the elements are quite dynamic. They will need stirring, blending, living into the space. It’s quite amazing how this superficial choice—paint—seems like the biggest difference. It turns this whole project back into a house. I can now begin to imagine living here.
I was going to keep the ugly fixture that’s there. I thought the General liked it and so I tried to convince myself that this little bit of ugly could be an homage to the 1926 original. Now he claims to hate it—and out it goes.
The living room is looking wider since the paint rail and the window woodwork have gone white. It almost makes the smashed pumpkin-guts walls bearable–but not really.
Finally it dawned on me; what I need is red carpeting. I’ll pick up some samples and, hopefully, get to feel good with it (or I’ll get over it.) The question : will the red carpet lower my ceilings?
I dare to enter, once more, the Pratt & Larson outlet room. Yes. Yet another project. This time the bathroom backsplash. Ooooo baby.
This morning I hand off the bathroom sink to Luanne in the Parson’s parking lot. This is definitely a Lake Oswego girl-deal going down, as we sidle up to each other in the parson’s farm parking lot, trunk to trunk, SUV to Hummer, tossing around a Kohler bathroom lav.
Chris, the helper guy—is wailing away on the arbor vitea monster tree outside when I leave and I think he will win the war. What a relief to have this thing gone. It will be so nice for the beautiful little Japanese Maple and the Rose of Sharon to have room to breathe.
I’ve done busy rooms before. It’s hard when you like a lot of exciting stuff. But I won’t mind. I think the plain woods—the cabinets and the floor—will calm things down. Add it up, Miriam. It’s not such a mystery.
I go, I’m helped by a nice guy who seems to know what he’s talking about and I find a simple door that will let in lots of light. The guys next door sell a security film and I’ll have that installed on the window. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. Why the emergency? I could have done this months ago.
The entire upstairs was a DIY let’s-blow-out-the-attic-and-make-a-master-suite approach. It does not exist according to the city permit division, although the tax folks sure like to collect on it. I like most of what they did—even though the flaws are quite apparent but they really concentrated their ignorance when it came to putting in the shower, which has now been ripped out.