Trading a house for a home

If you're not familiar with my adventures in restoration, read my love story post first. Actually, even if you ARE familiar... go re-read that post. It's good context! (I'll wait...)

If you're the kind of person who moves into a house and never changes the paint colors, this post won't resonate with you.  But for the rest of you, you know how it feels to put a little bit of your style into a house. Maybe you've stripped wallpaper or pulled back the carpet to find hardwood floors hidden underneath. A few hours worth of work and you've fixed, cleaned or replaced something. You've made it better.

I bought my last house when I was a young, optimistic, single woman. Over the next four years, I would repair or replace every single wall, ceiling, floor, door, light fixture, electrical outlet and piece of trim. That's no exaggeration.  I gutted all 4 bathrooms and rebuilt them from the floor up.  I gutted and rebuilt the kitchen. I put in all new lighting, floors and major systems (HVAC, roof, electrical panel). I took down walls, fixed beams, and sistered joists. I had help from friends, family, and a few contractors. All told, I spent 208 weekends working on that house.

I saved the place.   And then, not long after I finished, I decided to sell it.

I think a decaying house is like a bad marriage. It takes years of neglect to create the problems, but with hard work, you can almost always fix it. And I believe in fixing what can be fixed. Saving what other people deem "a lost cause."  But, imagine spending 4 years in couples counseling.  After 4 years of hard work, you wake up one morning, look at your partner and realize you have the exact marriage you've always wanted. It's perfect and you're content.  And then you ask for a divorce.

That's exactly what I did.  I sold my house in January of 2014. I just went back for the first time a few weeks ago. Driving up to the house, I felt so many emotions.  The new owners painted the exterior, replacing the sunny yellow with a shade of grayish blue. I'd like to tell you the color is all wrong, but in fact, it looks lovely.  Other than that, it's exactly the same as the day I left.  But, what was once the "love of my life" was now, just a house.

That's the lesson, I think.  A house is just a house. It's 4 walls and a roof.  It keeps you warm and safe and dry. I realize now that after 4 years of restoring that house, I loved it, but it still wasn't a home.  A house becomes a home when it's filled with love, family, memories, laughter, tears, fights, make-ups, dreams and hopes. A home holds all the beauty and love and heart that you bring to it.

After I sold my house, I traveled Europe for 3.5 months. Read about my European meltdown here. And then moved back to Michigan.  I fell madly in love and my life changed forever.   We moved to Chicago and we've created a home filled with laughter, the pitter-patter of little feet, with squeals of joy, family dinners, fights, make-ups, forts, bedtime stories and long discussions about our future.

Rich and I will buy a house soon enough, a place for our family to put down roots. But now I know...anywhere I go with these boys, I'm home.

Prom dress to be proud of

Oh, I've gotta rant!

I was enjoying my coffee this morning and came across this article on HuffPo Women. Mine may not be a popular opinion, but as I read this article, I was really annoyed, for a variety of reasons. Totally blog-worthy.

The short story is that these 4 photos were hung up a Florida high school. The three most revealing dresses indicate that they won't be acceptable for prom. The fourth (less revealing) dress indicated they're welcome at prom and says "good girl." After reading the article, it sounds like a staff member put up the photos, but it was not approved by the administration, nor was it an "official" school poster.

First and foremost, let me say that the "good girl" line related to a young woman's clothing choice is condescending and abhorrent. Girls and women aren't "good" or "bad" based on what they wear, and the phrasing of "good girl" is just gross and sexist and pejorative.

NEVERTHELESS...

I don't think that a poster encouraging modesty and decency for prom should cause this huge uproar, and certainly NOT an uproar in the name of "standing up against sexism" and "women's/girls rights." It's great to see young people getting involved, standing up for something and making their voices heard, but this is not an atrocity against women.

Women all around the world are still subjected to genuine horrors like female genital mutilation, forced marriages, bride burning, marital rape, date rape, sex trafficking, and more. Don't get me started on rampant gender inequality and sexism.
Please, stand up against sexism and atrocities against women. But the high school poster is NOT that. This is a suggestion of decency in a time when young women are all too eager to bare everything.

Being told to cover up isn't a war on women. It's part of life. Parents should be teaching their kids what's appropriate, including how to dress. Not to get off on another tangent, but the reason things like this are being posted is because parents don't parent! My mom would have died before she'd let me wear something like this. 

Source: Rue the Day, Luulla and XDresses.com

Can you wear whatever dress you want? Yes
Does a revealing dress make you a "bad girl"? No
Does it mean that boys/men can take advantage of you, call you names, or touch you? No
Does it mean that you're a slut? No
Should men judge you by your outfit? Maybe not.

Do people (male and female) make assumptions about you based on your clothing? YES, OF COURSE!!

Sorry, girls. But, them's the facts.
In modern culture, our image is carefully cultivated. Every style choice you make says something about who you are. Celebrities and actors carefully choose every element of every outfit in order to cultivate a very specific image and "brand" for themselves. (Well, they have stylists who do that, obvs.) Why do they do that? Because the clothing you wear says A LOT about you. Young women cannot be naive to this fact.

Jackie Kennedy carefully cultivated her image.

And so has Nikki Minaj.

Women can't continue to behave and dress in a sexually precocious manner, while simultaneously saying "don't treat me as a sex object." You can't have it both ways, ladies. Again, I'll reiterate that I'm NOT victim blaming. No girl or woman should ever be victimized, harassed or attacked as a result of her clothing choices, no matter how risque. Nothing you do, say or wear justifies indecent or criminal behavior by a boy or man. But your clothing choice DOES say something about you.

If you want to be shown respect, demonstrate self-respect.

If you want to be treated like a lady, you'll need to act like one.
Back to the article. I understand the students didn't like that poster. I understand that they don't want to be shamed and I completely agree the tone and the language used was outrageous. But this isn't sexism. It isn't an assult on your rights as a woman. It's a message of modesty, and it's a decent message.

 “Unfortunately what happened here is a symptom of what is still happening to girls in this country – this over-sexualization of our bodies and emphasis on it,” she said. “Girls are made to feel responsible for what a boy ‘might do or feel’ in response to how we dress. Dress codes are grossly outdated for 2017.”  -Lily WIllimgton, student at Stanton College Prep

I'm sorry, but no, Lily from Stanton College Prep.  You have it all wrong. The person telling y'all to dress more modestly isn't the one over-sexualizing your bodies. You girls are doing that to yourselves.  

Moving forward

A year ago, I lost my job.  Don't call my shrink - I'm not sitting here, rocking, counting the days, muttering to myself.  Its just... I lost my job just 6 months after moving to Chicago FOR the job. I took over two teams, managing 6 people. I worked hard and truly loved it. I loved the people, loved the work, and, not to brag, but I was crushin' it. And then it was gone. 

These things happen, just not (historically) to me. Prior to losing my job, my career was always a massive part of my life, my identity, maybe even my joy.  It's sort of sad to write that, but it's true. I was raised by a single mom, hardworking, who put herself through undergraduate AND graduate school (thankyouverymuch!) and took care of me and my sister alone. (She went on to have a great career, marry my stepdad, retire early and travel the world! She's a goddess.) 

I grew up, like most children of the 80s, in a household where money was tight. Little sidebar...I asked for Transformers for my 8th birthday (I was a tomboy, obvs). And instead, I got GoBots. You read that right. GoBots.  If you don't remember GoBots, let me just say that they sucked...hard.  

Transformers were awesome. Optimus Prime had about a gazillion moves to transform from a semi-truck into a bad-ass robot.  It blew my tiny mind. 

Photo: Transformers Wiki

But transformers were too expensive. So my mom, not knowing the difference, got me a GoBot spaceship instead.  It had ONE MOVE. It didn't even transform, you guys. It just extended. It was super sad. 

                                      

Perhaps because of that crushing GoBot disappointment, I knew at a young age I wanted to be successful and make good money. I had no idea what that meant, I just knew I didn't want to be disappointed. Isn't that an adorable 8 year old fantasy? That you could go through life without ever being disappointed? 

Anyway, I worked hard and have been successful.  My career successes made me very happy for my 20s and early 30s. It was my identity.  That is, until last year, when I lost my job.

I'd love to tell y'all that I've spent the last year living purposefully, doing fun and industrious things like opening an etsy shop, learning to sew, or making my own candles, soap, detergent. 

But that would be a big fat lie.  I have no etsy-worthy ideas and I still don't sew. 

The thing is, when I lost my job, I didn't think it'd be for 3 months or 6 months. I certainly didn't think I'd pass the 1 year mark and then blog about it. So, I didn't wake up and purposefully say "I'm going to make good use of my time off and do ____today. " 

My days weren't filled with all the things I've always imagined. 

I've done some very cool things.  For example:

I got engaged.

I got married.

I threw one incredible Inside Out themed party for Wesley's 3rd birthday.  

I packed, moved, unpacked and decorated our new house in the Chicago suburbs. I loved the city, but I don't miss the urine smell on the red line.  

I organized our DVD's, got rid of all the cases, and alphabetized them. (Pure bliss, I'm telling you) 

I've purged lots of "stuff" from our house.  (Closets, drawers, dressers, etc. )

I’ve baked a lot.

I'm writing. And writing and writing and writing. 

I started substitute teaching, as my local district needed help.   I really enjoy it. 

I've also been there for some important family things. When Wes had heart surgery at 3,  I was able to spend the time preparing him, supporting him, and supporting Rich through it, too. When my mom had a stroke (in Germany) and was hospitalized for 6+ weeks, I was able to fly there and spend 3+ weeks helping her with stroke rehabilitation and supporting no distracting my dad. I’ve enjoyed being a newlywed, and my husband and I have a strong marriage.  We’ve spent countless hours with Wes, playing games, building lego worlds, cooking, baking, and doing ALL OF THE arts & crafts. 

Ive done a lot and I’m grateful for it.  But I haven't done the big projects that I thought I'd only accomplish if I could take “a break” from corporate America. I haven't...

- organized my digital photos

- finished my travel blog from 3 years ago

-finish writing my first novel

-submitted my series of children's books to a publisher

-pursued my dream of becoming a Realtor

-finished crocheting the blanket I started literally years ago

I’m a GoBot. I'm not becoming something new, amazing and mind-blowing.  I’m just extending a little bit. 

I can do better.  I can transform myself, transform my life.  I can absolutely be Optimus Prime!

Patricia Ombretta Catazola

Patricia Ombretta Catazola is a blind woman with a soft smile.  I meet her in a tiny coffee shop in the small village in Northern Italy where my apartment is located. Within a minute, she reaches out to clasp my hands in hers.  As an American, this feels overly intimate, but I don’t pull away.  She smiles and her unfocused gaze and the way she outlines my fingers with hers tells me she’s blind.  After a moment, she pats my hands and says I have “...piano hands.” I don’t know what that means, but I thank her anyway because she seems happy with her declaration.   

It is my second day in Italy. She had a twin sister who died, a fact she tells me within moments of meeting me, as if it’s part of her very core and it must be known.  “I am a twin.”  And her spine stiffens a little with pride as she smiles.  Rosana was her name.  

After a moment, she says she wants to feel my hair to “see” if it's long.  She laughs when she touches it. I laugh too and she says my laugh is beautiful.  She says she loves laughing and then laughs heartily to demonstrate.  

I run into Patricia a handful of times during my time in Italy. I always sit with her and have coffee.  Each time, she touches my hands, touches my hair, and tells me a bit more about Rosana.  She is easily one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met.  

Story worth reading

All of our lives are a story.  Over these last 14 weeks, I've traveled through 14 countries. I've read the stories of many kings, queens, princes, princesses, emperors and empresses. Sometimes, they were riveting stories and I could barely tear myself away from the museum or castle afterwards. But other times, I was looking for the exit after just a few minutes. She was born. She lived. She died. Booooooring!

We all have those same three lines.  But how did she live? Did she live with passion and reckless abandon or timidly, meekly? Was she a liar, a bank robber, a good woman, a sexpot, a combination of all of those things? Was she interesting? Fabulous? Kind? Funny? 

As I blogged throughout my European trip, I had one common question in the back of my head…"Is this a story worth reading?”

Maybe it’s because I don’t have children.  The sheer act of creating another human life means you have someone to remember your name, tell your story, keep your belongings in a chest in their attic and pass along your china to their children. If I never have kids, who will remember my story?

And perhaps it's also because as of late, I’ve been surrounded by only the stories of kings and queens, who are remembered and celebrated in a thousand ways – museums, statues, books, poems, prose… that I realize just how insignificant my life may be.  There will (likely) never be a plaque with my name on it or a statue in a square anywhere.  I’ve never wanted to be famous – not for one day of my life – but the idea of being an insignificant, forgotten blip in the scheme of the universe is sort of a bummer, too.

The only thing I've ever secretly dreamed of becoming is a successful writer. I love to cozy up with a book, dive in and explore the world the writer has created for me. As a reader, I adore the idea of other readers curled up in their favorite chair with my book, devouring each word I've written, hungry for more. Oh, I'd love to be a writer! To write a book that becomes mainstream...to see strangers with my book in their tote bags, or reading my book at a cafe. To see my book in a news stand or a library shelf. I dream of writing a character that everyone feels they know personally, someone like Harry Potter, or Stephanie Plum, or one of my childhood favorites, Harriet the Spy.  How strange and wonderful it must feel for millions to know a person that you created in your mind.

I’m going to continue writing, musing and telling stories as I see them.  Maybe I'll never get married, and I'll probably never have kids. But I will always be writing. It's what I love. It's what stirs my soul. But, as I travel throughout Europe, without a job, mortgage, or a care in the world, what I’ve come to realize is that I’m truly concerned with something else entirely.

It's not about writing a story worth reading. It's about living a LIFE worth writing about.

Princess castles, waterfalls and magic

After spending a few days in Munich, I drove 80 miles south to a tiny Bavarian town called Schwangau, Germany. This is where I found a little bit of magic, whimsy and fantasy on my trip. The famous Neuschwanstein castle!

King Ludwig II of Bavaria built the massive Neuschwanstein castle in honor of his favorite composer (and source of his secret romantic crush), Richard Wagner. He was reportedly infatuated with Wagner and wanted the castle to be a shrine to his works, as well as place for the performance of his operas.

The castle is the real life depiction of every gorgeous, opulent princess castle I'd ever seen or dreamed of as a little girl.  In fact, Walt Disney and his wife, Lillian, had taken a European tour before he built Disneyland and they visited the Neuschwanstein castle. Mr. Disney was so awestruck by the castle, it became the inspiration for Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella's castles. See for yourself:

I can certainly see similarities!  To tour the castle, I parked at the bottom of the mountain, paid for admittance, and boarded a shuttle bus that took me to the top of the mountain. After dozen of hairpin turns and twists, the shuttle dropped me and my fellow visitors off at the top, a short walk away from the castle itself.

Part of the magical experience of visiting Neuschwanstein is the incredible walk up to the castle. There is a long path and the castle ispartially hidden,  tucked away behind trees, so as you walk, slowly, turrets and spires come into sight one by one. When I rounded the last corner, the entire castle came into view and nearly took my breath away.

Gorgeous doesn't begin to describe it. It's magical, grandiose and stunning.  I spent about 30 minutes slowly wandering around the outside, taking it all in.  As I strolled, I walked through crowds of visitors from all over the world.  There were dozens of little girls wearing princess dresses. They walked around, waiting to go in the castle, wearing tiny ball gown and princess dresses of white and pink tulle. It was so sweet, I remembered what it felt like to be 5 years old again, twirling around the living room like a princess. I secretly wished I had a princess dress on, too, instead of jeans. What can I say? The place is magical.

Only one side of Neuschwanstein is approachable by foot. On all other sides of the Bavarian castle, the ground drops off in sheer bluffs.  It's absolutely jaw dropping.

After a short wait, my group was ushered inside for the tour. Originally, King Ludwig designed the castle to have more than 200+ rooms dedicated to the performance and appreciation of Wagner's works. 200 rooms...!  In contrast, the White House has just 132 rooms.  Although, the massive Buckingham Palace has 775 rooms, with 78 of them bathrooms! Imagine cleaning 78 toilets.  Ugh.

But I digress.  Despite the plan for 200+ rooms in  Neuschwanstein castle, only 14 were ever finished. Construction began in 1869 and went on for more than 16 years. Sadly, Richard Wagner died in 1883, having never visited Neuschwanstein, and King Ludwig was devastated.  Just three years later (1886), he was declared insane and died mysteriously 3 days after his diagnosis. After his death, because of the massive debt King Ludwig amassed, his family opened Neuschwanstein to visitors.

Today, visitors can only tour the 14 completed rooms. Nothing can prepare a visitor for the dripping, gilded, opulent interior. His eccentric style is distinct and in my opinion, overwhelming to the senses. Every inch of every wall, floor, ceiling, surface was embellished in some way.

My favorite room was the Throne Room. The massive focal point is a chandelier, designed to look like the Byzantine crown.  It weighs over 2,000 lbs!

The castle is full of tapestries, murals of Wagner's works, gilded walls, mirrors and picture frames.

And more incredible chandeliers!

My senses were overloaded during the entire tour, but in a great way.  It was gorgeous, opulent and over the top!   It's hard not to get a little caught up in the love story, as well.  Imagine love so strong that a person would devote their life to honoring another, or building something so massive in their honor. Men built the Taj Mahal and Neuschwanstein, so perhaps men are the romantic gender?  Certainly not in my personal experience...

As I left the castle, I veered off the path to stop on the Marienbrucke bridge.  The long, narrow bridge stretches over a stream and several waterfalls and has an unbeatable view of the castle.  It feels as if this must be the very spot King Ludwig stood when he was designing the castle.  And for all I know, maybe it was.

I'm not a big fan of bridges, especially ancient ones that are just wooden planks with GAPS between the planks. Seriously, gaps! I prefer my bridges to be steel and secure.  But, despite my fear, I did walk out to the middle and allowed the tranquility of the place to wash over me.

There is no denying that King Ludwig II of Bavaria was a strange man. His unrequited romantic obsession with Richard Wagner took over his life, bankrupted him and broke his heart.  But that passion also gave his life purpose. His passion led him to build this gorgeous castle, which has brought millions of people joy and happiness. It inspired Walt Disney, who in turn, shaped the imaginations of millions of little girls about what a princess castle looks like. It inspired Disneyland, and surely inspires the millions of visitors that flock there every year. It's magical and romantic.

I stood on the bridge for so long that I missed the last shuttle down the mountain.  The sky was turning gorgeous shades of orange and the castle was transformed in front of my eyes.  As the sun set over Neuschwanstein, I felt optimistic. Maybe someday, I'd have someone in my life who wants to build me a castle.

As I started the long, slow walk down the mountain, I looked around a few times to make sure I was alone.   And then, I did a few little twirls in my imaginary princess dress.

Munich

March 12^th and 13th

I’m in Munich, Germany!

For some reason I cannot explain, Germany was never high on my travel list.  I have always been drawn to destinations like Ireland, Paris or Italy and not as interested in places like Germany or Poland.  Then, my parents lived in Germany last year for 3 months and raved about it.  I visited Austria in February and loved it. I learned there are obviously a lot of similarities between Austria and Germany and my interest started to grow.  I began suspecting that my German-disinterest was all-wrong. So, when I started to plan my route coming back from Prague to Italy, I realized I could come back through Munich. I decided to check it out.

I’m so glad that I did.  I found that Germany was much different than my expectations. It’s a wonderful country with a fascinating history, distinct regions, amazing architecture, delicious food and warm, friendly people.  I’m about half German and it was comforting to walk around a country where everyone looked like me…blonde hair, blue eyes and fairly tall. I felt right at home…which certainly is not the case in Italy, where my pale skin and blonde tresses stands out!

I only had 1.5 days in Munich, so I tried to move fast and experience as much as possible! The first morning, I took the subway to Marienplatz, the heart of Munich.  The first thing you see as you come out of the subway at Marienplatz is the impressive Neuen Rathaus, or New City Hall.  It's awesome!

The building houses the famous glockenspiel and I timed my visit to catch the 12 o’clock chiming. Now, I’m not a clock buff or anything, but the glockenspiel was so charming!  At the top of the clock tower, you can see a little alcove where the automated little men are dancing, then they joust with one another, and one is victorious! There is a a SHORT video showing you the glockenspiel here. 


Next, I toured the Munich Residenz, a massive complex of buildings that was the former house of the Bavarian monarchs.  I swear, I love touring castles, residences, palaces and mansions. It is so much fun to see how the other half lives...and it makes me feel so poor. How can you not feel poor as you stroll through rooms like this...

I particularly liked strolling through the rooms that contained the treasures of the monarchy. My absolute favorite piece was the traveling set of Empress Marie Louise of Austria, the second wife of Napoleon. It was made in 1812 by the most famous goldsmith of that time, Martin Guillaume Biennais.

I love secret things... secret rooms, passageways, hidden things, secret boxes, etc.  And this set has tons of hidden areas and items that fold into it. It actually contains 120 items, including dinner service for 2, a toiletry set, writing implements, sewing tools, a measuring rod, screwdriver, even dental instruments. It's made of silver-gilt, mother-of-pearl, tortoise shell, ivory and ebony.  The photo does NOT do it justice. 

My favorite room in the massive Residenz was the Antiquarium, which was the biggest room I've ever seen.  I took photo and video, but I still feel that nothing quite captures how big the space was.

After I left the Residenz, I strolled the streets of Munich, talking with people, window shopping and finally, finding my way to Der Pschorr Bier Garten to try to drink a beer. These videos say it all! 

It's true, I'm not a beer drinker. I've never had more than a few sips before pouring myself a whiskey or wine instead.  But, I really wanted the bragging rights of saying I drank my first full beer in Germany.  

I think it helped that I paired my Hacker Pschorr Heifevisen with some delicious weinerschnitzel and roasted potatoes.  

And before long... 

The bartender had told each of the servers that I was drinking my first beer (in German, so I didn't realize). I had wondered why they were all so friendly.  Well, when I finished, they clapped for me.  I love Germany!

The next day I had only a few more hours in Munich. I decided to head to Hofbrauhaus for my second beer. That was a huge mistake.  Hofbrauhaus only has 2 beers.  Dark and regular.  I tried the regular, which was bitter and awful. I choked down 2 sips and left the rest - I know, beer crime! I did love the charm of the Hofbrauhaus, though, and strolled around looking at the stein cages and girls in traditional dress selling pretzels.  

I spent a few hours strolling and shopping, admiring cuckoo clocks, buying gifts and a few beer steins.  And then, far too soon, it was time to leave Munich and head to the Neuschwanstein Castle.  

Germany was an awesome surprise. I can't wait to return to Munich and explore the rest of the country.  But next on my itinerary is the Neuschwanstein Castle, about 80 kilometers south of Munich.

Auf Weidersehen (goodnight!)