Welcome to the Block!

This little separation of limb and trunk was discovered on the morning of June 20 -- the day of our engagement party and five days before we were set to move in. Family and friends were descending upon us for the celebration, and I’d planned to conduct several tours of our new street as well as move in an antique table that my aunt and uncle were bringing me from my grandmother’s. So, I thought my fiancée was joking when he called and said, “I’ve got good news and bad news…”            

The good news for me was that, while the falling limb required a “caution” police barrier around our block for the rest of the day, I -- the uber-important owner of the house -- was able to navigate past it. “That’s my house,” I explained matter-of-factly to the tree and power guys as I ducked under the yellow tape. I kept looking around and wondering when all of my soon-to-be new neighbors would come pouring out of their homes, offering comforting words and an apple pie or two. Perhaps that was the bad news. Even while taking out their power for several hours and blocking the passage way for their Volvo station wagons… our arrival announcement didn’t seem to make much of a splash.

Hopefully Granny Tree won’t try to outdo herself next time.

Eat Your Heart Out Restoration Hardware

Decorator, I am not.

I would rank my inability to decorate right up there with my weak cooking skills and my tragic sense of style. Thank God for darling roommates throughout the years who have hung cool pictures, fed me and said, “You can’t wear that out.”

But decorating has been the one area that really stings my ego… so the day we closed on our house I decided that as a young bride on Woodward Way I would not only face my fear of decorating but I would ultimately deliver it a smug shoulder shrug and sassy “in your face!” smirk -- with the most awesome, deceivingly affordable, superior-to-even-HGTV décor on all the street.

So here’s our first decoration: an accoutrement for the grand staircase.  We made it before even officially moving in.  It was June 15, one of the first evenings we had possession of the house.  We ordered pasta to go and ate it sitting on folding lawn chairs in our den.  We toured the empty house, toasting each other with Solo cups of wine.  Then we created this masterpiece.  It’s colorful!  It’s unique.  It cost nothing but our labor of love.  It’s sentimental, too – a countdown to our wedding day.  We tear off a link each day... err, when we remember.  And even though it will soon disappear, I know Vern Yip is jealous.

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The first time my mother-in-law-to-be walked in our front door, she exclaimed, “How adorable!  The children who used to live here left you a present.”

A Whole New World

Domesticity is not all throw pillows and fancy rugs and movie nights and home-baked cookies.

Vulnerable tree crotches. Missing chimney dampers. Buying towels to match the wallpaper and a soap dish to match the towels.

These were things I’d never even heard of – much less considered – on the day my man proposed. But we’ve been homeowners for three months now, and I’ve realized I’m as awestruck (dumbstruck) as the princess in Aladdin about the fact that our domestic life has begun, that we’re in charge of it, and that I’ve nearly mastered backing my Corolla into our carport. It’s a whole new world! Moving in together, living in this neighborhood where we don’t quite fit in yet, deciding who loads the dishwasher and who deals with the whacked-out German washing machine… every day we learn something new or figure out a new way to do something or maybe try to unpack a box (or just lug stuff from one room to another). And in between the “ordinary” days we’ve had a few extraordinary days that have become the heart of what I've come to think of as pledging a homeowner's fraternity. It’s true; we’ve endured our fair share of hazing so far, but dude, it’s like, totally worth it. We love our house, and everyone knows that being beaten down together creates an unbreakable bond between people. So it has to be a good way to start our life together. Right? Well, at least we've got some good stories to tell.

So that's my plan -- to chronicle some of our experiences as first-time homeowners, as newlyweds, and as the newbies on Woodward Way – be these experiences wayward or just plain Woodward. That is, if our Hummer-driving, Nantucket-vacationing neighbors and the squirrels agree to let us stay.