Sunday Favorites -- Sunshine, Good News, and My First Post

We are finally having dry days here in northern New Jersey! Hooray!
That Old House is basking in the sunshine love.

(Taken this morning by a very patient husband.)

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Yesterday we celebrated the 4th of July in a most quiet manner. . . .


. . . but a joyous one.
We cancelled our planned party, and instead brought my father home from the hospital.

He is doing much better. Turns out he was cooking pneumonia and a UTI, and through the miracle of antibiotics (and I do mean miracle, God bless medical science) he is recovering rapidly.

Many thanks for all your kind wishes. They are much appreciated.

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I am participating in Chari's Sunday Favorites meme on her Happy To Design blog. Click here to find more blog posts that you may have missed the first time around.

In looking over past posts for something to put up for today, I went all the way back to the oldest -- my first post ever. A newly hatched blogger, that's what I was. Don't expect pretty pictures -- didn't know about that part of it yet!

Now... climb into Mr. Peabody's Way Back Machine again, 'way back to October 1, 2008.

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(10/1/08) If you live in our part of New Jersey, you probably know our house. It's the old house next to the high school, raised up off the road by an old stone wall, its clapboard siding painted yellow, with a big columned front porch and dark green shutters, and a newer glassed-in conservatory on the side.... and by now you are saying, "Oh! You live in that old house!"

Yes, yes we do. And have since May of 2008.

Howard and I are empty-nesters -- both daughters away at college and grad school -- and because we wanted a larger nest to host guests when our chickens do come home to roost, and also because I wanted a change from the house we'd raised our girls in, we decided to move.

In the fall of 2007 I saw an old farmhouse in an online realty listing... and decided to take a look.

When I did, I was a goner.

It was MY house. It was the house I wished I lived in when I was a little girl. It had its drawbacks -- but hey, nothing is perfect!

That was the end of October. We bought the house in March, although our other house was still on the market with no buyers in sight. But miracles do happen, even in slumping real estate markets -- we got two offers on our own house, and accepted a solid full price contract. (Thank you, St. Joseph.)

We hired plumbers, electricians, painters, an air conditioning installer (God bless central air!), handymen, an iron fabricator, and a contractor to shore up a few saggy floors and spongy joists.

The original 1832 section of this house is built without any nails. The timbers are hand-cut, and fit together like a giant puzzle, an enormous hand wrought Erector set of timbers. It's beautiful to see, and clearly visible in the attic and cellar.

We also hired a landscaper, my husband having finally abandoned the fiction of his enjoying yard work. However, the pro and I don't see eye to eye about the importance of a perfect green lawn. Our 3/4 acre was mostly wet muddy ruts back in March, and now, on this first day of October, I look out my windows and I see green.

I am happy. Landscape guy is not.

"It's all crab grass," says he.

"So?" says I. "It's green!"

He thinks I'm nuts. He may be right, but I'm happy. . . .

We are holding off on more big projects until the spring. They will include exterior painting, maybe roofing, replacing missing shutters, and some fencing so our dogs can run around and sniff out squirrels and chipmunks without the annoyance of always being on lead.

The house is still very much a work in progress, but then ... so are we all.

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And a July 2009 update --- That Old House still has crab grass, although not as much, and is still a work in progress. Our big projects planned for the spring of '09 didn't materialize; like most of the rest of the world, we've tightened up the budget this year.

Stay tuned! -- Cass

"Real" shot of the day -- peeling paint on our porch railings,
all dressed up with daughter Anne's patriotic house bling:

That's life -- There is always some dust or some peeling paint, somewhere.