Simple Girl

Reset Your Expectations and Be Happier

I am a frequent protestor of magazine headlines that offer promises to “Be Happy Now” and list “Top Ten Ways to Be Happier”. The sources of my irritation are many. For starters, the advice begins with the assumption that you are surely miserable and urges you to be your best self, fulfill your destiny, capture joy and otherwise sets the bar ridiculously high. Secondly, the lists are rife with examples that are out of reach for most women -- “I quit my job as a paralegal and started a vineyard!”  Worst of all, that there many of us (including me) willing to spend the $4.95 and passively expect to be granted the headlines’ promises rather than simply taking action.

With that said, I concede that I am living a fortunate life at the moment and my own particular experience may not be duplicable by many. I work for a company that granted me a six-week paid sabbatical and helped me to build the nest egg I needed to pursue my Vermont farmhouse renovation dream. Still, I will be bold enough to suggest that there may be “happy lessons” to be learned from my recent sojourn from the daily grind.

The main goal of my time off was to work on the renovation. Progress  was good but nowhere near my expectations.  And, that’s just the thing: expectations. Whether vacation plans, self image, or life goals, somehow we always fool ourselves into believing that our expectations for the feelings and things we desire are easily met. Well, certainly this is the case for everyone in the magazines ...  so why not us?!  Buy crocodile booties that Patti Hansen wore in More Magazine only to realize that it they aren’t really helping you look or feel as tough and sexy as she. Buyer’s remorse is simply the collision of reality with a set of expectations built from fantasy.  

I learned this the hard way during my sabbatical.  With expectations to completely reboot my priorities and set a foundation for the next chapter of my life in just six week, I planned to get outside every day, learn to play guitar and to knit, begin a regular yoga practice, read my entire Edith Wharton library and the Tao Te Ching, blog daily and search through my journals and scraps of paper for the book I would outline.  Oh, yes and tick off about 20 items on my renovation checklist.  Seriously, this was my list. At the end of four weeks, I was miserable.

So I offer this advice to you, with no presumption that you aren't perfectly happy without it:

Ten Ways to Be Happier (by lowering your expectations)

1. Planning is essential Carpenters have a saying: “measure twice, cut once.” Cutting and nailing and painting are fun! Measuring, budgeting, setting schedules, inventorying materials and measuring again are not. Less fun though is running out of money, managing chaos, and doing the same thing over and over again without satisfying results. Do you see where this is going? Whether it’s building a bathroom or living a secure, peaceful and gratifying life …  you can’t just wing it.
2. Do the work.  Planning is critical, but it can’t last forever. Stop looking at Pinterest, searching for just the right font for your business plan, re-organizing your tools, and making lists. It’s time to do the work. A friend of mine recently told me how her husband fulfilled his dream to be a full-time tennis coach. He took jobs stringing rackets; he got certified to be a line judge; he volunteered to teach tennis at a summer camp. He did everything he could think of that involved tennis. Today, he is the head coach of a successful New England university team. (I’ve been thinking about this example a lot lately with regards to my writing and love of vintage stuff ... stay tuned to learn if I take it to heart!)
3. Protective equipment may be required. At the farm house, we ended up taking unexpected safety precautions after encountering a motherload of mouse shit behind every surface we demolished (see Hanta Virus). I remembered thinking that Genevieve Gorder always worked in bare feet on Trading Spaces. But in real reality, the work is not always going to be glamorous or easy. How many times do we see a “Top Chef” contender nearly slice off a finger or one the designers on “Project Runway” have a massive meltdown. There will be mouse shit. There will be mistakes. And, hardest to take of all, there will be criticism. Posting pictures of progress on my Facebook page has resulted in two near “de-friendings” when comments pointed out mistakes or advised what we “should” do, instead of just clicking on “like”. Whether respirator or thick skin – get one.
4. Any progress is progress ‘Stop beating yourself up’ are words most often pointed at me by those who fail to understand why I feel the need to get. it. all. done. right. now. And now, I point them at you… ha!  And for goodness sake, don’t let the fact that you really won’t be able to do it “all. right. now.” be a reason to do nothing. People ask me if I am having fun picking out things for the new bathroom.  Well, I thought it would be fun. I thought it would take one trip to the “kitchen and bath store” and then … well, and then I came face to face with reality.  Do you know the difference between sub-floor and underlayment? Did you know that you have to carefully choreograph the sequence of framing, flooring, insulating, electrical, plumbing, sheet rocking – and it takes weeks (not 48 hours like on HGTV)!  And, do you have any idea how many different types of toilets there are?!!!  Three months after purchasing the house, I now celebrate the simple accomplishment of getting a reply email from the electrician.
5. Nothing beats the satisfaction of a job well done. Take this bit of advice along with our new definition of progress. While taking a shower in my new bathroom will be the ultimate gratification, there is also nothing like the sound of debris hitting the dumpster.  Kerplunk, thunk, and crash are the sounds of your efforts taking shape. The piney odor of a room covered in new plywood underlayment (which goes over the subfloor!) is the smell of success!  In other words, revel in your progress. Men sit back and drink a cold beer after mowing the lawn. We women are more likely to finish the job and fret that we should have planted a smaller garden that the garage needs painting, and we totally need a pedicure.
6. It takes patience to get the best results. Oh, this is a hard one. Once we’ve made our plan, we want to get to work.  And yet it seems that, to completely misquote Thomas Edison, good results require 90% preparation and 10% perspiration.  Take painting. Picking the color is traumatic enough it’s the cleaning, spackling, sanding, taping, priming, and cutting in that require the greatest investment of time and energy.  The final coat is the easiest of all and the one that delivers the most satisfaction.  Unless, that is, you skipped steps 1-6. In which case, every bump, crack, and drip will taunt you for years.
7. Start on the inside.  This one is so obvious I almost did not include it for fear of condescension. However, when it comes to my Vermont renovation, this has been one of the biggest lessons.  I knew the house was challenged in many ways, but had set my expectations on quickly achieving a cool shabby chic sort of look and living in bohemian-like comfort in no time. Yes, we’d work on the systems, but we could do that quickly or even concurrently with other projects. Reality came in the form of an out-of-control mouse population; an electrical service at the whims of dead tree branches; not one of four chimneys capable of safely supporting a heating systems, and the mysterious decision of a former owner to remove a load bearing wall supporting a great majority of the house.  Desires to create a vintage farmhouse feeling were quickly put in check with the realization that all of the cosmetic work would be meaningless, if I didn’t fix the supporting systems that made the house safe and sound weren’t done first.  I spent three days clearing mildewed insulation from the dark, damp, cobweb covered basement and the majority of my Phase One budget on Fred’s Plumbing and Heating.  No one else will probably ever see it. But it is now my favorite room in the house.  See?  Obvious.
8. Learn to trust.   Did you know that I am not always right? Came as a shock to me too. I’ve also learned that I am not the only person capable of doing (or hiring someone else to do) a job correctly.  Shocking! I hope that a certain someone reads this with a chuckle and knows (without question) that that it isn’t faith that I lack, it is the ability to let go of the rains.   I think women have been taught – through early feminist treatises (“a woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle”) or more likely at the school of “I Trusted This Asshole” – that the only person to truly bank on is their self. True only to the extent that we are responsible for the choices we make. Sad, if we can’t let go long enough to benefit from others’ experience, wisdom or kindness.
9. You must compromise.  All those expectations? … the fantasy of owning your own business, writing a book, marrying Prince Harry … probably not going to pan out just the way you envision.  My fantasy tile shower will realize itself as a $500 acrylic unit from Lowes. The six foot vanity now measures in at just 36 inches. The extra 10 sq. feet of space? Gone.  But compromise is not failure (see #4 and stop beating yourself up).  I will have a brand new bathroom in my Vermont farmhouse … and I get to keep my ceramic tile floor and stone top for the vanity.  If in the future, when showing guests this bathroom, I preface each tour with a “well, it’s not what I planned, but…” then shame on me.  You wouldn’t introduce your husband with a “well, I really was holding out from Prince Harry” or your new business venture by saying “it didn’t quite turn out the way I planned” … would you? Compromise is part of life; celebrate that you are able and capable of making the best choices.
10. Simplify I couldn’t not include this advice, especially since it is a choice that has come up at nearly every decision point in the renovation project. It goes something like this: I pull open my Pinterest boards and excitedly present my ideas for the next project. The response is invariably “yes, we can do that.”  Ha! Forget what I said about compromise … I can have it all!!  And then, “it will cost $$$ much and take another two weeks.” (it’s always two weeks) Wait! I don’t have that much money and I want to be done faster. “So”, the response continues …” what is it you really want?”  
    

    Why, to be happy of course?
    
    Be Simple.

Homesick

Sunday night at 7:00 pm and instinct says I should be parking myself on the couch to watch 60 Minutes.  Like Elaine Benes of Seinfeld “I need to unwind” and am a creature of habit. But what is there to unwind from here in Vermont?  I am, after all, wrapping up week two of a six week sabbatical, so work stress is non-existent.  The air is clear and quiet, fall colors are coming up creating an endless changing view from my front porch; I have my books, writing, and even my cats with me and wine in the fridge. Sounds like heaven, doesn’t it. So why am I feeling so very out of sorts?

I am sure everyone to whom I described my Vermont sabbatical plans my melancholy will come as a surprise. I painted a happy picture of quiet reflection, long walks and bike rides, prolific writing, interrupted by bursts of home renovation and furniture shopping. And while, this is precisely what I am doing, I could have –in fact, did – predicted this mood. I am home sick.

There is only one reason that I bought this old and ailing farmhouse, I wanted it to be home -- the last place I would ever move to, the place I could settle in to slowly, collecting things and memories; a place perhaps where my children (or more likely their children) could build memories. Since I left home for college, I have had thirteen addresses, in seven different towns across five states (Alaska, Virginia, Michigan, Florida and New Hampshire). I always claimed to like moving – “I’m a gypsy at heart,” I’d chirp – but I think the reality is far more complex (as it usually is). With every move, I moved swiftly to set up house – organize, decorate, make it homey. But whether from Wal-Mart or Pottery Barn, those homey touches only create the illusion of home.  Family, friends, security – those are the makings of home.

Okay. I am here in Vermont – surrounded by beautiful nature and welcoming neighbors – in the house I’ve wanted since I was a little girl. I am lucky enough to be sharing this adventure with a man whom I love very much (and who is quite handy too!), to be visited by friends and family, and to be healthy and financially secure to enjoy the time worry free.  And yet … because I am here alone for a week or so essentially tucked away in two small rooms in the middle of a construction zone (that happens to smell like dead mice and old wet dog) … the home sickness creeps in, loneliness trumps reflection.

I also feel sure that if the house were odor free, had a working kitchen and one useable bathroom (instead of two that are each only half usable), with a comfy couch from where I could watch 60 Minutes on a September evening, the homesickness would abate.  Ironic, maybe, but home sickness is also the need for the familiar, the predictable, and the routine.  And (silly me), I was determined that my six weeks of vacation time would be anything but.  (My partner could testify to the many times I’ve griped that we are in a rut, as we sat on just such a comfy couch in front of the TV!) So, yes, I am getting what I wanted, and it is making me quite uncomfortable, melancholy…. home sick.

The good news is, as anyone who ever went to college or summer camp, home sickness is temporary. It responds well to activity, exercise, fresh air and a sense of accomplishment. And, eventually, you either get to go home or you look up one day and discover you are home. So tomorrow, I commence Yoga classes, supervise the installation of a new heating system, finish painting the trim in (what will be) the living room, find an insulation contractor, and maybe go for a bike ride.  But until then … I just need to unwind!

Be Simple

Living the Dream

Just about two years ago, I and shared a draft of my mid-life crisis plan.  That’s right, a plan – a path laid out to prepare for mid-life and the emotional bumpy road of not having had the aforementioned plan in place.  More to the point, the plan has has come to fruition, because I kept to the path and ignored the obstacles.

I closed on the Vermont house / future retirement cottage a week ago. The search took some time and there was a near miss and heartbreak along the way, but alas, just as it always does when you believe it will, and you combine that with action… it came to be! Today I am the sole owner of a very tired and abused, but charming and full of potential 199 year old farm house.  

I wonder what its earliest female residents would make of this? I suspect when the home was newly built, it was done so for a bachelor farmer and his soon to be bride. Their path was very different - mostly obstacles of what could not be, rather than dreams of what could. A 19th century woman might have lived alone in this house only if she were widowed or her husband away at war. Think of it – the Civil War came decades after the foundation stones from my house were first laid  … and just by the looks of it, probably the roof was not long after!  As 21st century women, we might forget it wasn’t until only a few decades ago – the mid-seventies – when Congress amended the Fair Housing Act, that single women could even get a mortgage (or horrors! a credit card!) in their own name.

But here I am, walking from room to room in a house that is all mine. Confident and at the same time completely overwhelmed, listening to the drips from the washer hook up, the bath tub, and the sink – even the toilet was running! – opening windows to air out the acrid smell of wood smoke, dogs, cooking, people, and probably dead rodents between the walls.  I took "before" photos from every corner of every room and made note of the mysteries and histories that were now all mine.

The first few days were filled with the basics: utilities, propane, exterminator, lawn mower, and locksmith.  I had a picnic table delivered from a rosy-cheeked freckle faced boy named Calvin and bought a gas grill (note to self: next time pay the $20 to get it assembled!). We brought out the BFH (big-f’ing hammer) and knocked down a few cabinets just for fun. 

 I spent three solid days painting and cleaning one small corner of the upstairs just to have a “safe room” for us to sleep while the renovation commences. Before (still renter occupied) on the left, and after on the right.  I took an old door off its hinges. Cleaned it and sanded it down to cover the weird metal mirror thing between the windows, added some roman shades, simple white bedding, and painted the crap out evey surface!!

I had the bed delivered, but no, I did not sleep there.  I mentioned the exterminators, right?

So much to do and so much to tell about my Full Vermonty adventures … but for now, my point is just this:    I DID IT!!!!!  

Be Simple

Making it Happen

The opening shots have been fired. I await a second counter offer (fingers crossed) from the seller. 

Anxious, nervous, excited, scared, giddy .. feeling all of this and more.

But how would I feel if I were doing nothing? Not pursuing my dream, but just dreaming ....

Timing is Everything

Why is it always so that the things you wish for come to you when the timing couldn’t be worse?  The woman who tried for years to have a baby finalizes an adoption and then learns she is pregnant with twins. You meet the man of your dreams and then (yes, Alanis) his beautiful new wife. You get a huge opportunity to boost your career, but you’d have to be in DesMoines when your son is graduating in Boston.  That’s life – unexpected surprises, disappointments, and tough choices.

Last summer I was faced with an unexpected surprise during a “just for fun” house-hunting trip. Finding houses in my price range is an adventure – equal parts treasure hunt and maze, filled with dead ends (or rather 1970’s era ¼” pine paneling and shag carpet, mold, sagging floors, dangerous electrical and heating systems.  Oh my! But on this day, last August, we found it.  Farmhouse kitchen, screen porch, big barn, rock solid foundation, new windows and 270 degree panoramic mountain views.  It was love at first sight and I made an offer straight away.

The dilemma? It was a year too early, I didn’t have the money or the vacation time, work was insane. It would mean carrying a mortgage plus my rent for another 9-12 months since my boyfriend’s work-in-progress renovation (in which I am to live during the week while I work in New Hampshire), was nowhere near inhabitable yet.   Yet I plowed on, because this was “the one.”  Negotiations were tough – the sellers had a bottom line they would not cross – but the inspection went well. Fifty-six days into a 60-day escrow, and the appraisal fails to meet the lender’s requirements. Meaning, I need to come up with extra cash to close the gap – or finance with different terms that would cost much more over the long term.

The sellers had found a new place, deposits paid, household packed …. And the deal was quashed. I felt like an asshole, but I also felt they should share some of the risk with cash back at closing. They were unwilling to do so and I was able to exercise my “finance contingency” clause.  I cried for 5 minutes; ranted and swore for 10 more; and then got over it.  Sure, I second guessed the call and Gaskell Hill is still something of a benchmark as our searched continued, but ….. honestly?

It felt really good to walk away.  Powerful.  In the past when I’ve had to move or buy a car or other big decisions, I came from a position of weakness.  I had nowhere else to go or nothing else to drive. This time, I was able to exercise a relatively new and hard-won ability to say no.

Friends and family were disappointed for me and spun many a version of “it wasn’t meant to be”, but I don’t know; that was a pretty perfect house. For me, it’s not about fate; it’s about having freedom and control over my destiny. Simply put, I made the timing MY timing.

Be Simple

Location. Location. Location.

Last week’s trip to the Northeast Kingdom was, alas, not a right out of an episode of House Hunters.  There were no three finalists – interesting and different properties from which to choose. Instead, I saw six properties – ranging from virgin land to foreclosure to the ultimate renovation – none of which made the cut.

The good news is that the excursion helped to narrow down my list of wants to a list of must-haves and no-f*cking-ways. I think the dreary weather served well to keep me on track – no panoramic Vermont views to entice and distract, just the house, the plot plan, and the facts, ma’am.

We started at what would be a pretty good choice – a very affordable farmhouse on 5 acres just outside of St. Johnsbury; an easy commute due to the fact that the house itself was about 100 feet from the main East-West corridor in northern New England (Route 2). At any given time, I could pump my elbow with clenched fist and be greeted back with a blast of an 18-wheeler.  Like many farmhouses, this one was well-laid out, with an original butler’s pantry and some built-ins. Unfortunately, like many farmhouses, this one had been renovated sometime in the 1970’s with sculptured carpet and ¼” paneling. Renovation possibilities aside, the highway was a deal breaker.

Beautiful landscape, until you turn 90 degrees. Then you see nothing but highway.

The plot of land, with amazing views, was nowhere near the highway and, in fact, had no road frontage at all – just an easement for a driveway.  Oh, yeah, and that chain link fence in the backyard? to keep the pets and kids off the abutting airport runway. Besides, as I walked across the wet field, I realized, I don’t want to build a new house. It would be a nightmare managing construction from 150 miles away (not to mention a former contractor boyfriend to kibitz)  and I confirmed, I don’t’ want a shiny new house.

On the flip side, there can be a fine line between fixer and tear down. In the case of the next property we saw, I think tear down would not have sufficed. Nuclear bomb, maybe?  A banked-owned house that reeked of mold, with septic, electric, plumbing, and structural issues and sat just 10 feet from a four way intersection (one axis of which was a state highway), we talked about moving it back as there were ten acres, but decided it would not survive. That said, the floor plan was perfect.

Sixteen hundred square feet on 10 acres for $47,000 – My realtor took one look and said, “I think it’s overpriced!”

 

There was a lovingly restored large farmhouse with a barn and workshop most men would kill for. But ….right in town, no land, and over-priced. And, one you’d think would earn a nomination if not a Purchase & Sale Agreement, was a beautiful restored farmhouse on two acres with a great (if not tight to the weather) barn. The mud room alone was to.die.for.  Reasonably priced and impeccably decorated in shades of sage and taupe. Unfortunately, it too was near a noisy road, but that wasn’t it. This house was TOO perfect. It could have been any house in any subdivision. The charm had been renovated right out of it.

As it happens, I would rather have this      

 

than this. 

At least to start. The dream is still alive and the house hunt has taught me things.  If onlyI had had this patience with men. Select the best one before marrying him, not marry him and suffer buyer’s remorse.  I will keep hunting (for a house, that is).  Until then …

Besimple.

House hunting in the Kingdom

Here's my shopping list for this dreary Friday: an in town renovated New Englander, an updated farmhouse outside of tow, but near a junkyard?, a ranch house in the country with spectacular views, a raw piece of land nearby, a dilapted farmhouse that I could actually just write a check for, and another pretty cheap house on six acres in a nearby town. None of these sound perfext, whoch just might make them perfect. Ihad a longer list, trying to open my mind to all the possibilities, because I am soooo ready to have my Vermont house. But, I removed all of the in-town houses, as deep down, what I really want is that farmhouse - and/or a country view with a bit of land.  It is a rainy day, so I won't be wooed by the views alone. We all know what happens when good looks distract from what's inside, dont we?  The prices range from from 'write 'em a check' to 'I guess I will be a slave to the corporate world forever', but wait to get back to the Kingdom!