Sunday, February 8, 2009

Madison Street

Walk with me down memory lane. I'm not sure what has sparked this nostalgia, but I've been thinking about our old house and how much I loved it. I would never take it back (no offense, old house), but I think of it fondly. Here are some of my favorite parts of old house:

This tongue-in-groove ceiling was completed a few days after Ruby came home from the hospital. (Note to self: Never again plan a semi-major home renovation during the week that you bring a newborn baby home from the hospital.) If I showed this exact picture to Cory or my dad, they would probably throw a hammer through the nearest window. It was sort of a task. A "job". Many a night found Cory out back, painting individual planks of wood. That's right, we actually had to paint them all. And by "we", I mean Cory. How in the heck did I ever talk any of them into this? But man, once it was done, I was in love. I would lie in bed in the evenings and gaze up at it. And the shadows cast from my favorite chandelier were the icing. It was so dreamy.

I requested a beadboard ceiling in our kitchen at our new house, but both Cory and my dad pretended that they didn't even hear me. Maybe the bathroom? Apparently only fiberboard drop ceiling inspires them to such nonsense.

The next thing I miss the most is Ruby's room. It was just perfect. A perfect little girl room. Except I hit my head on that chandelier more times than I could count. Form before function, folks!


The last thing that I miss is our dining room. I remember being so overwhelmed with gladness that the house had a dining room. The flower cart has never found a home here at the new house...and I miss it. It was $15 at one of my favorite junk shops from back when we lived in our apartment. There were two carts. I will never understand why I didn't buy them both. I was such a novice, back then.

Here's what I know about this dining room. I would often sit in total quiet on the couch in the adjoining living room and just look at the dining room. I never grew tired of the view. It was calming and restful and pretty and light. I did this so often that I memorized a tree branch that hung down into view from the dining room window. It was the most breathtaking shade of gold in the fall. I decided back then that every room should be judged on the same criteria: I must be able to just sit and look at it and enjoy it. And never tire of it. At least not for 3 years.

Thank you, old house, you were good to us. You knew just how to break us into homeownership. You required much wallpaper stripping, but nothing more difficult than that. If it were not for you, we probably would have never had the guts to take on new house. And what a tragedy that would have been.