I had designed a beautiful guest room in our house in Bend. Most of the furnishings were family hand-me-downs: twin antique twin beds, crochet bedspreads and dust ruffles, a funky old chest of drawers I had stained and painted to match the douvets I'd made, a child's little roll-top desk and chair, a lady's chair and small round tea table, and quilts. I knew I would never have a room like that again, but I was not happy about giving it up this beautiful room.
The solution came slowly. At first I stored most everything. When my husband and I moved to our current home, we embarked on a substantial remodel. The painted chest became the base for the vanity and I transformed one of the douvets into a shower curtain. It's a beautiful room and I love it!
There was room for the little roll-top desk at the end of the hall. It serves as a display for my vintage dolls and children's books. I donated the bedsteads to the local Humane Society thrift shop (I enjoy thinking about the benefits it gave to a few animals)and I found relatives who wanted the bedspreads crocheted by our mutual ancestor.
The point of this long-winded description is that part of adjusting to down-sizing is repurposing furnishings and giving up the rest to just the right recipients. I must remind myself I've done this before and I can do it again!
Friday, April 23, 2010
Saturday, April 10, 2010
I Have Practice!
In thinking about how to downsize, and all the emotional baggage that goes with it, I must remind myself that I've done it before. A few years ago, I went from a large home in Bend to a smaller rental house to a townhouse over a two-year period.
In moving from my dream home in Bend, I had a huge yard sale. I had a collection of vintage clothing and let almost all of it go. One was a college prom dress Mom had made for me. It was floor-length brocade with a matching jacket. A hippie-looking woman asked if she could try it on over her leotard. It fit her perfectly. As she twirled around in my driveway, her face lit up. "I'm going to a wedding in the park. This will be the perfect dress to wear!" she declared. Her reaction created a second happy memory for me around that dress.
A father arrived at the sale with two young children, a boy and girl. He was teaching them how to bargain for the items they wanted. Several years before, I had created a furnished scale model of a condominium for an interior design class. It had been a lot of work, and I'd had it on display ever since. I had priced it at $2.00. I watched as the young girl studied it. "Would you take $1.00 for it?" she asked. I said yes. "How about 50 cents?" I pretended to think about it. "That would be all right," I finally answered. "Dad!" she shouted. "I bought a house!" Again, I was given a happy memory.
It's been my experience that when I find good new homes for things for which I have an emotional attachment but will no longer keep, the sting is taken out of the parting.
In moving from my dream home in Bend, I had a huge yard sale. I had a collection of vintage clothing and let almost all of it go. One was a college prom dress Mom had made for me. It was floor-length brocade with a matching jacket. A hippie-looking woman asked if she could try it on over her leotard. It fit her perfectly. As she twirled around in my driveway, her face lit up. "I'm going to a wedding in the park. This will be the perfect dress to wear!" she declared. Her reaction created a second happy memory for me around that dress.
A father arrived at the sale with two young children, a boy and girl. He was teaching them how to bargain for the items they wanted. Several years before, I had created a furnished scale model of a condominium for an interior design class. It had been a lot of work, and I'd had it on display ever since. I had priced it at $2.00. I watched as the young girl studied it. "Would you take $1.00 for it?" she asked. I said yes. "How about 50 cents?" I pretended to think about it. "That would be all right," I finally answered. "Dad!" she shouted. "I bought a house!" Again, I was given a happy memory.
It's been my experience that when I find good new homes for things for which I have an emotional attachment but will no longer keep, the sting is taken out of the parting.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
House Hunting
Bill and I went house hunting yesterday in our desired location. We only had two on our list, and it didn't take us long to rule out the first one.
Before I tell you about the second, I want to give you an idea of what we are looking for. We want to be able to "age in place" in our next home. Hopefully, we have a lot of ambulatory years left, but someday, one or both of us are likely to have problems negotiating stairs. One of us may have to use a walker or wheelchair eventually. So a one-story home makes the most sense.
I may have already mentioned that I want to continue to have a garden, and I'd like to have chickens and enough outdoor space for the grandchildren to play. Most new homes these days are on small lots, so it seems to make sense to find an older home. I've had quite a bit of experience designing remodels, and I relish the challenge of making our last home perfect for us. An older ranch-style home on a good-sized lot would seem to be a good choice.
Now about that second home we looked at. The three photos on the realtor's web site were indistinct, but the description of the yard caught my attention. Indeed, the yard had wonderful potential, with tall cedars in the back, a charming tool shed, and lots of room for kids, chickens, and a garden. However, despite my well-developed imagination, the house could never be made right for us. The layout, the weird roof, the blue vinyl siding ... all were wrong.
So the best I can say is that the journey has begun for real. I'm sure there will be many more chapters before we find the home that will suit us.
Before I tell you about the second, I want to give you an idea of what we are looking for. We want to be able to "age in place" in our next home. Hopefully, we have a lot of ambulatory years left, but someday, one or both of us are likely to have problems negotiating stairs. One of us may have to use a walker or wheelchair eventually. So a one-story home makes the most sense.
I may have already mentioned that I want to continue to have a garden, and I'd like to have chickens and enough outdoor space for the grandchildren to play. Most new homes these days are on small lots, so it seems to make sense to find an older home. I've had quite a bit of experience designing remodels, and I relish the challenge of making our last home perfect for us. An older ranch-style home on a good-sized lot would seem to be a good choice.
Now about that second home we looked at. The three photos on the realtor's web site were indistinct, but the description of the yard caught my attention. Indeed, the yard had wonderful potential, with tall cedars in the back, a charming tool shed, and lots of room for kids, chickens, and a garden. However, despite my well-developed imagination, the house could never be made right for us. The layout, the weird roof, the blue vinyl siding ... all were wrong.
So the best I can say is that the journey has begun for real. I'm sure there will be many more chapters before we find the home that will suit us.
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