Well, the year is half-way over, or just begun. It depends on how you look at it. And my house is filling again with teens and pre-teens. From one sad child this fall with suicidal tendencies (she's now elsewhere, which I must say is rather a relief -- I was out of my league with her), I'm now the happy receiver/care-taker for three well-adjusted and pleasant young folk. The first was expected -- a 16 year old exchange student from Switzerland who's already spent 6 months in New Zealand, and is now getting her French up to speed. Joining her relatively quickly with the New Year is a young boy Leo's age, now in his class, part Belgian, part Dutch, and not a little dyslexic, but quite polite and friendly. And, the surprise, a friend of my 'suissesse' who was unhappily lodged with a different family in the school.
Apparently, the deciding factor is my somewhat abundant and generous welcome. The girls find me warm, funny, easy to be with, and my boys interesting company (particularly Jonas these days who is turning into quite the sociable and entertaining 9 year old). The house is comfortable, I'm not far from Avignon, I've yoga cds to borrow (plus yoga mats), my home-made bread is a hit (as are the cereal bars). The girls like my cooking -- a bit more adventuresome with them here: green lentils with bacon, swiss chard, onions and a pinch of cloves, diced root vegetable soup with Chinese noodles, cast iron stove baked sweet potatoes and sausages, twice baked mashed potatoes, home-made gnocchi... Yup. I do enjoy feeding a small horde. And, appreciation is what all cooks need, something my two boys are quick to give me for brownies and chocolate muffins, but less often for lentils.
With the weekdays filled with prep and corrections for my class I've less time at home to garden, clean, cook, bake (t'is been a long time since my last batch of muffins! then again, the stash of Swiss chocolates we had to get through after Christmas dissuaded me from the need for more sweets for quite some time). There's nothing like being a new teacher -- I'm paid for the 16 hours I teach, but I put in 2-3 hours before every class. This is not a complaint as I am fully aware that this is the classic ratio, particularly for someone as green as I. But on top of this are the weekly meetings with colleagues and students and... Ah well, what's a few hours in the day? At least till the tourism season kicks back in, I've the time and energy to devote to my charges, both at home and in class.
Showing posts with label house. Show all posts
Showing posts with label house. Show all posts
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Lessons for future and present renovations
Well, life is ever interesting, and ever evolving. I own a home. And with this goes the responsibility of caring for it. But, I've been idea-rich and cash-poor for some time now. And this has stymied me. I've been counseled that fixing my leaking roof would be upwards of 10-15,000Euros, but best to check with any number of local companies (entreprises) who specialized in this. Need I say that I've put off this more and more urgent issue for over three years now as I've simply not the funds? nor the means to get a loan of this size? And there I stopped. I would put cups and towels down when fall storms sent drops of water down into my bed room, the stairwell, the kids' room. I dealt by not dealing, though occasionally moaning and groaning, in a bag-over-the-head sort of way.
And then there was the shabby-chic room downstairs. The one that is pleasantly cool and dark and refreshing in the hot summer, and damp, cold, a bit moldy and dusty in the winter. This is the room where Leo is choosing to be at the moment. Um, is there something wrong with this picture?
And then there is the dream project of a glassed in terrace/living space out beyond my kitchen on the polished ochre-colored cement floor I put in right after my arrival. I'd checked with a local eco-builder who had estimated the highly insulated, wood/windows/sliding doors 20sq meter room at 40,000Euros -- a couple of years' ago. The room would be on the north side of the house, thus subject to the cold winds, not too much sunshine and the insulation/double/triple paned windows/plexi for the roof, etc., would bring the price way up. Yes, this too was quite obviously put on hold.
I've been telling myself that the day the b&b in Arles is sold....
And then my dear friend Martine got me thinking that I had to get Leo's room into order, and soon. It is just not healthy for him to breath moldy, damp air. It wasn't hard to convince me. After toying with various ideas -- put up a wooden wall with air space behind it? cover it with a nice rug? -- She suggested I use the technique known as enduit en chanvre -- a hemp-filled stucco -- that insulates, equalizes the hydrometry of a room and renders the space healthy, warm...
It just so happens that the person who is master of this technique and who has been practicing it, preaching, teaching it and more over these past 20 years is a father in my kids' school (very bio-dynamic/Steiner'ish all this stuff). Yves Kuhn -- you can google him. And so I gave him a call and he came to visit my house. With his urging I got to work. I and the kids removed all Leo's belongings from the room, and I began to tear down the cement/stucco that was covering the stone walls with Erick's burin/burineur -- serious heavy equipment. With two walls completely cleared and the third nearly there, you could say I'm now committed to this project.
I called to find out the estimate for the cost of materials (nearly 1000E for the surface area I've to do) ouch! And discovered that there was a workshop/stage this past weekend to learn precisely the techniques I needed. Being financially-challenged at the moment, and being that the woman who runs the company is dedicated to helping others (truly a great lady! named Mirei), I was able to do the class for a song, and I brought Erick with me as he with his masonry background shall be my main helper for this and perhaps future jobs. Good thing I get along with my ex-husband, n'est-ce pas?
And so Saturday saw us both over at Yve's workshop learning to mix hemp, pumice, chalk/white wash, plaster, water, etc., and smooth them into wall mixtures, flooring mixtures, stucco mixtures, finishing mixtures, roof insulation, sculpture clay (for sinks, showers, etc.,) and more. Quite an extraordinary day. I was supposed to be baking cookies Sunday for the school Christmas market (Nov. 27/28) but I just couldn't resist going back for a second day of lessons in these techniques. Ever since I built Martine's raw clay brick wall (see blog post this time last year) I have been even more aware of the profound pleasure and delight I absorb when deep in manual activities.
As Erick clicked with Yves -- both men having been sculpted from the primeval clay of this earth by Prometheus, I got more and more ideas and Eureka moments. I don't need to hire an expensive company to do my roof! There's a serious possibility of doing it with friends, insulating it so that summers are not so hot and unpleasant, putting in the skylights for the stairwell and bedrooms, etc., at perhaps a third the price (or more realistically half) of what I'd been expecting to pay....
And hey, what about my terrace/living room? I could insulate the wall between myself and my neighbor with this technique, and build the half wall to the north this way, maybe put in a rounded corner with the denser material over a
frame of woven cane such as Yves showed us in his studio covered in plaster-dipped gauze, (that being the corner with a view from the neighbor's window, thus best visually blocked) then put in my windows, the sliding doors to the West, etc., build the roof with this technique and have one row of windows in it... and I could do this myself with Erick and a friend or two, thus having only the cost of materials: way below the estimate of 40,000 from the builder...
Suddenly the world is opening up. It is doable, affordable, beautiful, eco/organic, and it is a technique that favors collaboration, sharing, teaching, working together.
Hm, for those of you who've been reading this blog a bit more faithfully. Didn't I mention somewhere that I had begun dating an architect? Yes. And yes, in a past life it would have been normal for me to say, hey, want to design my terrace/living space? But you know, this is my house, and though I appreciate his taste in urban design, I don't see him doing this kind of artisanal, hands-on (thus expensive on a large scale), organic technique. And, deeply feminine and sensual as I be, I love the idea of rounding and softening angles, rendering the rooms in warm tones (yes you add natural ochres to the mixtures to get beautiful colors in the mass, not just applied, though these are ideal surfaces for frescoes). His taste is more in the red/white/black/metallic direction. Let us say, I'm discovering new power and pleasure in contemplating the possible tactile, nourishing renovations I might actually be able to manifest through my own impulse (with a lot of help from friends), and who knows, maybe I'll teach him something? And, I have to say that I do not feel in need of being saved (as I once did by the vintner, and we know that didn't work out!), nor am I as impatient and eager to jump into our living together before it feels right. Thus, for the indefinite future, we'll enjoy the virtues of the city at his place, and the country at mine.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Getting ready for the renters
Yes, it's that time of year. A glorious time to enjoy good weather (should and if we be blessed with it). A time to be with friends, and...
Oh yes, a time to prepare the house for renters, badger the kids to go through their stuff, clean from top to toe, behind, beneath, between and beyond. A time to go mildly insane (not helped by the fierce and chilly gusts of the unseasonal Mistral winds). A time to work till I drop, break finger nails, turn my hands into sand paper, and drop weight without noticing.
The first step is to remove things - from the bed rooms, from the walls, from the kitchen shelves, from the bathroom, from all over the house -- to render the house both more neutral, but also more open for its summer occupants.
So, out go all the winter things, into boxes all the fragile and personal objects/dishes/etc., streamline the kids' toys, re-align the books, purge the old, the used, the not necessary, sift through the sheets leaving only the presentable ones (perfectly folded). And then, when the surfaces are clear, the spaces nearly bare, begin to clean and clean and clean. Cobwebs off the ceiling, dust off the shelves, grease and baked on things in the oven, crumbs and spills from the fridge. A once a year scrubbing with bleach in the shower (with a septic tank, t'is not recommended)...
As I rent my house from the day after the end of school, it is all particularly stressful as here I am trying to put order into a space fully lived in. Never a pleasant nor easy task.
The change from last year is that rather than heading off to the winery with simply my summer clothes, necessary papers, and a couple of favorite cooking utensils in my car, I'm moving into a tiny camping car on the grounds of my nearest neighbor. Thus, I'm not moving far away (this is a bonus), allowing me to take care of my garden and pool for the renters rather than pay another person to do so. But, nor am I moving into a furnished space. I'm camping. Thus, what do I need? What will I use? Spices? Pots and pans? Linens? My rice cooker? Italian coffee maker? dishes, salad bowl(s), wine glasses... and food, olive oil, wine? What will I eat? Will I serve anyone in my more restrained circumstances?
And what about my wardrobe? I've already pared it down, but... it certainly seems to visually take up about 4 times more space than the tiny closet in the camping car. Dear dear... what's a girl to do? Five weeks of summer, future tango balls, hiking, biking, outings and more ahead of me... A girl needs her things, no?
Each day I go through more, sift out more, remove and pack up more. And, thank goodness, my neighbor has space in his garage to store all my things. But as the pile grows higher and broader, he says to me rather nervously, "you will be removing these things after the summer, right?" And I reassure him that of course I will, as promptly as I can.
Did I mention that there isn't a garage or an attic or a spare room in my house? I rent it all, and thus I do what I can to stash things under the stairwell, in handsome antique suit cases (which double as side tables), in trunks (that decorate the walls), etc., even under beds. But...
I remember that huge hanger/garage at the winery where so many things could lie forgotten from various past lives, children, etc., Here, this is not possible. We are all obliged to do a full Feng Shui (Fu Sui in Japanese) yearly. Do you no longer play with these? out they go. Do you no longer wear this? out it goes. Is it broken? damaged? out it goes. Make room, clear a space, relinquish, and banish.
Though this week is brutal, I know I'll be peaceful and content slowly and selectively moving back in at the end of August. I just need to get through this week, and then... The adventure of camping begins. This should prove to be a very interesting summer.
Oh yes, a time to prepare the house for renters, badger the kids to go through their stuff, clean from top to toe, behind, beneath, between and beyond. A time to go mildly insane (not helped by the fierce and chilly gusts of the unseasonal Mistral winds). A time to work till I drop, break finger nails, turn my hands into sand paper, and drop weight without noticing.
The first step is to remove things - from the bed rooms, from the walls, from the kitchen shelves, from the bathroom, from all over the house -- to render the house both more neutral, but also more open for its summer occupants.
So, out go all the winter things, into boxes all the fragile and personal objects/dishes/etc., streamline the kids' toys, re-align the books, purge the old, the used, the not necessary, sift through the sheets leaving only the presentable ones (perfectly folded). And then, when the surfaces are clear, the spaces nearly bare, begin to clean and clean and clean. Cobwebs off the ceiling, dust off the shelves, grease and baked on things in the oven, crumbs and spills from the fridge. A once a year scrubbing with bleach in the shower (with a septic tank, t'is not recommended)...
As I rent my house from the day after the end of school, it is all particularly stressful as here I am trying to put order into a space fully lived in. Never a pleasant nor easy task.
The change from last year is that rather than heading off to the winery with simply my summer clothes, necessary papers, and a couple of favorite cooking utensils in my car, I'm moving into a tiny camping car on the grounds of my nearest neighbor. Thus, I'm not moving far away (this is a bonus), allowing me to take care of my garden and pool for the renters rather than pay another person to do so. But, nor am I moving into a furnished space. I'm camping. Thus, what do I need? What will I use? Spices? Pots and pans? Linens? My rice cooker? Italian coffee maker? dishes, salad bowl(s), wine glasses... and food, olive oil, wine? What will I eat? Will I serve anyone in my more restrained circumstances?
And what about my wardrobe? I've already pared it down, but... it certainly seems to visually take up about 4 times more space than the tiny closet in the camping car. Dear dear... what's a girl to do? Five weeks of summer, future tango balls, hiking, biking, outings and more ahead of me... A girl needs her things, no?
Each day I go through more, sift out more, remove and pack up more. And, thank goodness, my neighbor has space in his garage to store all my things. But as the pile grows higher and broader, he says to me rather nervously, "you will be removing these things after the summer, right?" And I reassure him that of course I will, as promptly as I can.
Did I mention that there isn't a garage or an attic or a spare room in my house? I rent it all, and thus I do what I can to stash things under the stairwell, in handsome antique suit cases (which double as side tables), in trunks (that decorate the walls), etc., even under beds. But...
I remember that huge hanger/garage at the winery where so many things could lie forgotten from various past lives, children, etc., Here, this is not possible. We are all obliged to do a full Feng Shui (Fu Sui in Japanese) yearly. Do you no longer play with these? out they go. Do you no longer wear this? out it goes. Is it broken? damaged? out it goes. Make room, clear a space, relinquish, and banish.
Though this week is brutal, I know I'll be peaceful and content slowly and selectively moving back in at the end of August. I just need to get through this week, and then... The adventure of camping begins. This should prove to be a very interesting summer.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Soon the school year will be over
The school year will be over soon and my two young boarders (the girls having left end of December) will soon be off in their different directions. I will miss G very much -- he's been a huge help, a dear soul, good-humored, taking initiatives to help clean, chop wood, mow the lawn, burn the garden clippings, etc., Truly, a lovely young man. Next year he'll be entering the Compangnons -- the modern day cathedral artisans' guild to become a master carpenter.
But, for our other young man? Well, I've the feeling he's burning bridges as fast as he might. He made an effort at different times this year to get along, to be helpful, etc., but, apparently, it was always an effort. And now, that effort is finished with. We've clashed strongly twice in two weeks now. Monday evening is not a good time for us.
Last week he freaked because I'd permitted G to use his bicycle when G's was out of service. In retaliation, he let the air out of both tires and would have happily left G stranded at school in such a state. G managed to get the tires pumped up and came home on said bicycle, but I didn't see him before I saw M and gave him a serious piece of my mind. How could he be so obscenely selfish and petty? Oh I went into a litany of things, that he uses all my affairs, that we live in a community, that it had been a necessary loan, etc., He got upset, slammed his door and hid out in his room.
And tonight it was over being helpful and giving me a hand cleaning the house this weekend. He simply hadn't felt like it... (I'd left him to be with clients, but had specifically asked that he vacuum and mop the kitchen and the stairwell).
I'm afraid that if anything makes me more berzerk it's selfish and petty behavior. My kids know that it's just not permitted, it's just not acceptable, it's repulsive and to be banished, it's... well, you get the picture. To put it simply, Jonas plays with Leo's toys, and vice versa, ditto for bicycles, and most everything else in this house. And both my boys were roped in to help clean the garden, the pool, and now the whole house for the renters. This is just how life is. You help when your help is needed and requested and you put aside your petty preferences till the job is done. Life is not a 24 hour party. (or only if you make it so by loving and helping and being delightful).
So, I'm afraid, zen as I try to be, accepting and adapting as I've tried to be... I must admit that I'll say good riddance when at last this child doesn't share our home. Sometimes, it just isn't meant to be. I hope, I trust, we all learned something this year about coping and getting along when your personalities just don't fit, but... it's time for the lesson to be over. Though, before he goes, there's a little remaining task -- I insist that his room be as it was when he arrived: immaculate. Either he, or his mother, take their pick.
But, for our other young man? Well, I've the feeling he's burning bridges as fast as he might. He made an effort at different times this year to get along, to be helpful, etc., but, apparently, it was always an effort. And now, that effort is finished with. We've clashed strongly twice in two weeks now. Monday evening is not a good time for us.
Last week he freaked because I'd permitted G to use his bicycle when G's was out of service. In retaliation, he let the air out of both tires and would have happily left G stranded at school in such a state. G managed to get the tires pumped up and came home on said bicycle, but I didn't see him before I saw M and gave him a serious piece of my mind. How could he be so obscenely selfish and petty? Oh I went into a litany of things, that he uses all my affairs, that we live in a community, that it had been a necessary loan, etc., He got upset, slammed his door and hid out in his room.
And tonight it was over being helpful and giving me a hand cleaning the house this weekend. He simply hadn't felt like it... (I'd left him to be with clients, but had specifically asked that he vacuum and mop the kitchen and the stairwell).
I'm afraid that if anything makes me more berzerk it's selfish and petty behavior. My kids know that it's just not permitted, it's just not acceptable, it's repulsive and to be banished, it's... well, you get the picture. To put it simply, Jonas plays with Leo's toys, and vice versa, ditto for bicycles, and most everything else in this house. And both my boys were roped in to help clean the garden, the pool, and now the whole house for the renters. This is just how life is. You help when your help is needed and requested and you put aside your petty preferences till the job is done. Life is not a 24 hour party. (or only if you make it so by loving and helping and being delightful).
So, I'm afraid, zen as I try to be, accepting and adapting as I've tried to be... I must admit that I'll say good riddance when at last this child doesn't share our home. Sometimes, it just isn't meant to be. I hope, I trust, we all learned something this year about coping and getting along when your personalities just don't fit, but... it's time for the lesson to be over. Though, before he goes, there's a little remaining task -- I insist that his room be as it was when he arrived: immaculate. Either he, or his mother, take their pick.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Movie Night
Well we are continuing our tradition of curling up in my bed on Sunday night, my two boys and I, for a rented movie off of ITunes. This one was suggested by JP. He had strong memories of it as a child. And I? Well, no doubt I saw snippets of it over a few days on the 4:30 movie, much cut up by ads, when I was home sick during elementary school.
I rented Ben Hur. In my ignorance, I had only the image of the grand race course in my head. That it takes place during the time of Jesus, that the King Balthazar is a character, that you see a different side of Pontus Pilate, none of this was remotely in my head. I did realize that it would deify Charleton Heston a bit (though goodness he is stiff!). But I figured I could get past this.
Leo was very happy with my choice. He's been studying Roman History and the Greek Gods at school, and back in third grade we read the Childrens' Bible together (also in keeping with the Steiner program), so he had sufficient historical perspective to really get into what is a very very long and at times drawn out story. That Arles used to have a race course of its own the size of the one portrayed in the film is of course, icing on the cake.
Jonas however, was quickly overcome by weariness and lack of interest. He is not as yet able to watch a peplum film from Hollywood of the 1960s. Perhaps a modern one with lots of fighting (yuck), but an old-fashioned one with lots of talking??? Not really his cup of tea.
But Leo is old enough to get into it all. He happily watched the three hours of Richard Burton's Alexander the Great this summer. Listening to exquisitely pronounced English with the diction of a Shakespearean actor doesn't come to all children his age. That I didn't get him the Orlando Bloom version didn't seem to phase him at all.
Meantime, cuddling was the order of the day. In my exhuberance at the approaching end of winter I'd turned off the heat last week. When we all returned last night the house was frigid as could be. Only now, the next morning, is the heat beginning to enter the stones anew. Silly me. I was so thrilled to be saving on heating gas... Ah well, what's a night or more with the covers over your head to keep warm? thick socks, sweaters and more under multiple covers...
I rented Ben Hur. In my ignorance, I had only the image of the grand race course in my head. That it takes place during the time of Jesus, that the King Balthazar is a character, that you see a different side of Pontus Pilate, none of this was remotely in my head. I did realize that it would deify Charleton Heston a bit (though goodness he is stiff!). But I figured I could get past this.
Leo was very happy with my choice. He's been studying Roman History and the Greek Gods at school, and back in third grade we read the Childrens' Bible together (also in keeping with the Steiner program), so he had sufficient historical perspective to really get into what is a very very long and at times drawn out story. That Arles used to have a race course of its own the size of the one portrayed in the film is of course, icing on the cake.
Jonas however, was quickly overcome by weariness and lack of interest. He is not as yet able to watch a peplum film from Hollywood of the 1960s. Perhaps a modern one with lots of fighting (yuck), but an old-fashioned one with lots of talking??? Not really his cup of tea.
But Leo is old enough to get into it all. He happily watched the three hours of Richard Burton's Alexander the Great this summer. Listening to exquisitely pronounced English with the diction of a Shakespearean actor doesn't come to all children his age. That I didn't get him the Orlando Bloom version didn't seem to phase him at all.
Meantime, cuddling was the order of the day. In my exhuberance at the approaching end of winter I'd turned off the heat last week. When we all returned last night the house was frigid as could be. Only now, the next morning, is the heat beginning to enter the stones anew. Silly me. I was so thrilled to be saving on heating gas... Ah well, what's a night or more with the covers over your head to keep warm? thick socks, sweaters and more under multiple covers...
Thursday, February 25, 2010
House-building
I like to be in movement. I like to help. I like to be productive. It's perhaps due to my Protestant upbringing, or simply a restless nature, or a bit of the girl scout in me.
In any case, if there are walls to sand, walls to paint, boards to nail, floors to polish, a garden to rake or weed, you can count on me.
And so, this being winter vacation, my close friend Martine is here again working on her eco-home that I photographed back in October/November. Most of the woodworking is finished, and these past two weeks we've been finishing the dry wall in the kitchen and the downstairs' den. We taped the gaps, plastered and sanded and plastered and sanded for four days last week (talking all the while as girlfriends will, my Itunes shuffle playing away to keep us motivated).
Today, I had a full day to offer as my kids are in school and I can put off a few differently productive projects till next week. So, I showed up ready to take the paint brush and roller and help as I could. I came complete with a batch of spiced/raisin and toasted almond rice that I'd made up the night before (rice cooker in hand), my tunes, and my willing arms.
The first coat of the kitchen is done, and a good chunk of the den. Not happy with the results atop the plaster/board/tape Martine had opted to put up strips of fiber glass as a uniform painting surface. So before I was able to paint, we finished a number of these strips. Fascinating. I'd never imagined that you could use fiber glass in such a way. I associate it with patching boats, and itchy bottoms if you sit atop it without a towel beneath you.
Always something to learn in this life.
I've no new photos... white walls aren't particularly exciting to document.
Now, if only Martine were here full time and could help me paint Jonas' room and work in my garden...
In any case, if there are walls to sand, walls to paint, boards to nail, floors to polish, a garden to rake or weed, you can count on me.
And so, this being winter vacation, my close friend Martine is here again working on her eco-home that I photographed back in October/November. Most of the woodworking is finished, and these past two weeks we've been finishing the dry wall in the kitchen and the downstairs' den. We taped the gaps, plastered and sanded and plastered and sanded for four days last week (talking all the while as girlfriends will, my Itunes shuffle playing away to keep us motivated).
Today, I had a full day to offer as my kids are in school and I can put off a few differently productive projects till next week. So, I showed up ready to take the paint brush and roller and help as I could. I came complete with a batch of spiced/raisin and toasted almond rice that I'd made up the night before (rice cooker in hand), my tunes, and my willing arms.
The first coat of the kitchen is done, and a good chunk of the den. Not happy with the results atop the plaster/board/tape Martine had opted to put up strips of fiber glass as a uniform painting surface. So before I was able to paint, we finished a number of these strips. Fascinating. I'd never imagined that you could use fiber glass in such a way. I associate it with patching boats, and itchy bottoms if you sit atop it without a towel beneath you.
Always something to learn in this life.
I've no new photos... white walls aren't particularly exciting to document.
Now, if only Martine were here full time and could help me paint Jonas' room and work in my garden...
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
And the finishing touches advance
A house built of wood, insulated with ouate (shredded cloth and paper?) and cork, air-tight, but with glorious sliding window doors along the South side, solar panels on the roof, a special hot water heater adapted for such, and the help of many hands to put it into place.
With all the necessary tools present and accessible, it was relatively easy, though angles and corners and rounded parts were challenging to put it mildly. Martine has been working nearly non-stop since she arrived for fall break. The summer had been spent in a similar fashion. And slowly, it is all coming into place. Walls are going up, the floor is in in the main room, the kitchen will be installed shortly, ditto the hot water heater. All the bathroom necessities are there, awaiting installation (we camped with a hose for the time I was there helping out).
It is unusual to see a house like this -- built to use a minimum of gas/electricity/energy-- in this region. Most often the houses are cement block and stucco, brick and stone. In the north, and in Northern Europe, it is far more fashionable. As such, Martine is a bit of a rebel in her neighborhood. People pass by and look at this odd wooden house amidst far more typical structures, and they don't always know what to make of it.
However, for someone like myself, the house is marvelous, and makes me dream...
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Building a wall
Sometimes, you just need to get your hands into a large tub of mud. It can be quite a nourishing and calming experience. Such a shame I never got into any mudbaths at the spas surrounding San Francisco the brief year I lived there.
I spent this week with Martine. She's doing the finishing work on her 'green' house. Working up in Brittany this year (and hopefully coming back down at the end of the year), she's only here for school vacations. Thus, perfect timing. I'd rented my house for the week, was not going to the winery for obvious reasons, and needed to be housed by someone who could put up with me in my current state (intermittent depression and babbling). That this person could also put me to work was just the icing on the cake.
Thus, after departing the home of my dear Scottish friends (where I'd over-stayed my welcome just a bit... but that's another story), I headed over to the small development in Jonquières in the Gard to Martine. When I arrived, she was putting up wooden boards on the walls just under the roof -- thus complicated and precise angles to cut. I was useful as a counter weight while she sawed away. A bit in a daze, and eager to speak with her, but hesitant as it was working time and a friend was there too whose ears I didn't feel like filling with my woes, I just helped as I could and bided my time.
Next up, a wall of raw bricks to be put together with clay and straw mortar. There were mason's tools available, but after attempting to use them, hands just seemed better, easier. Martine began the wall with me. Her friend pointed out where to put the nails in the wood at either end to hold the wall solidly, and how to (hopefully) build it straight. We didn't have a small level, so, it was a task that required eyeing things carefully and slipping into the flow of clay, balance, equilibrium and the sense of straight. I remembered my class in the 12 senses of Rudolf Steiner, and amongst them, is the sense of equilibrium/horizon. Interesting. You could also say, I was doing this à l'africaine, using just my hands and my eyes, scorning all Western tools.
Quickly, this became my task. Martine was much more at ease with the wooden planks, and for some odd reason, building this wall was just the thing I needed to do: repetitive, but requiring attention to detail. Soothing textures in my hands, the clay grounded me, the repetition centered me, level by level. All my wiggy, sad, stressed feelings seemed to ooze away as I handled that clay in my hands. It was truly a marvelous act of creation.
There I was helping my friend in an unexpectedly useful way, and healing my hurts all the while. Plus, I've discovered a hidden talent in myself. Who would've thought that I could build a clay wall?
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
The Garden takes over
Summer abundance. Foliage everywhere. Bay laurel and thyme laurel reach new heights. Tomatoes weighing down their stems. Rose bushes in a sorry state due to too little water and some nasty little spiders. My garden greeted me and reprimanded me. How could you let me get into this state? No one here to care for me through a long hot summer? Barely watered grass, and the rest, completely ignored to do as it might.
My new sprinkler is missing a piece -- so it goes, perhaps it became a toy for the numerous children amongst the renters? -- so I set up the old one, with a very small radius, and every hour or two moved it about the lawn, close to the tomatoes as the evening (relative) cool set in and the danger of the burning sun had passed. I doused the compost pile for a few hours -- hard to make good black earth out of dry, dry, desiccated matter, and there too, I doubt the renters added to it. A pity. The range of plants along my back fence are out of the reach of my hose, so I hooked up a "home-made" attachment (one of my pool hoses) to better soak the climbing roses and the pink oleander. Perhaps one of the climbing roses is no longer (the one I planted this spring, surprise, surprise), but I'm crossing my fingers.
My sore thumbs, wrists and pectoral muscles are witnesses to my gung-ho effort (what is it about being in one's home, without children, and post-vacation that just spurs you on to crazy challenges?) to prune all the bushes. Now, I have to admit my gardening ignorance is high, and, when possible, I have delegated these tasks to others (in general strong men with the proper tools). But this time was different. I was on my own, and rather content to be so, and, I had only a very old and not particularly sharp pair of clippers at hand. Thus, with a rudimentary tool and will power, I went at those bushes, wacking off height, breadth and too many pockets of spiders to count. One pouch sent flying by my efforts landed a handful of miniscule, pale, nearly see-through, baby spiders upon my arms (and no doubt my hair too, but I wasn't really thinking of such as I just kept at it). Good thing Jonas wasn't with me. His fear of spiders already had him sharing my bed far more than once this summer.
Needless to say, I started in the somewhat cooler air of the morning, but by the time I had accomplished my tasks the thermometer was nearing 35C (93F) if not topping it in the sunshine, with more promised as the sun crossed the sky above. As I moved the hose through the kitchen to the front garden and my rose bushes planted there, I felt sad. I do hope my roses will come back next year. The combination of severe dry weather, and these spiders that leave white sticky deposits on the stems is a bit much. I was drastic in my pruning (after reading a gardening book stating that I could prune in August), and hope I've not delivered the fatal blow. They brought me such joy this spring. Never before in my life had I had a rose garden. Such a simple, and for many a trite, pleasure derived from the natural world surrounding me.
Spring in Provence is one of those moments that keep me here. Though the summer can be beastly me hot and send into hiding, the spring is magical, a moment of gathering momentum, colors suddenly transforming from pink to green, blossom making way for leaf, a range of tones and promise that enchants. I thought often of this as I looked around me in Northern Michigan. Could I give up spring in Provence for a new life in these northern woods? Would a magnificent (if very long) winter and glorious autumn compensate? Perhaps, but the nostalgia would be there.
Meantime, it is summer, I'm sweating buckets, and all is cooked, as far as the eye can see. Lethargy sets in, or restlessness. Next burst of energy I'll attack the spider webs all over the house, but for this, first to the store for more vacuum bags. At least the mosquitoes are few.
My new sprinkler is missing a piece -- so it goes, perhaps it became a toy for the numerous children amongst the renters? -- so I set up the old one, with a very small radius, and every hour or two moved it about the lawn, close to the tomatoes as the evening (relative) cool set in and the danger of the burning sun had passed. I doused the compost pile for a few hours -- hard to make good black earth out of dry, dry, desiccated matter, and there too, I doubt the renters added to it. A pity. The range of plants along my back fence are out of the reach of my hose, so I hooked up a "home-made" attachment (one of my pool hoses) to better soak the climbing roses and the pink oleander. Perhaps one of the climbing roses is no longer (the one I planted this spring, surprise, surprise), but I'm crossing my fingers.
My sore thumbs, wrists and pectoral muscles are witnesses to my gung-ho effort (what is it about being in one's home, without children, and post-vacation that just spurs you on to crazy challenges?) to prune all the bushes. Now, I have to admit my gardening ignorance is high, and, when possible, I have delegated these tasks to others (in general strong men with the proper tools). But this time was different. I was on my own, and rather content to be so, and, I had only a very old and not particularly sharp pair of clippers at hand. Thus, with a rudimentary tool and will power, I went at those bushes, wacking off height, breadth and too many pockets of spiders to count. One pouch sent flying by my efforts landed a handful of miniscule, pale, nearly see-through, baby spiders upon my arms (and no doubt my hair too, but I wasn't really thinking of such as I just kept at it). Good thing Jonas wasn't with me. His fear of spiders already had him sharing my bed far more than once this summer.
Needless to say, I started in the somewhat cooler air of the morning, but by the time I had accomplished my tasks the thermometer was nearing 35C (93F) if not topping it in the sunshine, with more promised as the sun crossed the sky above. As I moved the hose through the kitchen to the front garden and my rose bushes planted there, I felt sad. I do hope my roses will come back next year. The combination of severe dry weather, and these spiders that leave white sticky deposits on the stems is a bit much. I was drastic in my pruning (after reading a gardening book stating that I could prune in August), and hope I've not delivered the fatal blow. They brought me such joy this spring. Never before in my life had I had a rose garden. Such a simple, and for many a trite, pleasure derived from the natural world surrounding me.
Spring in Provence is one of those moments that keep me here. Though the summer can be beastly me hot and send into hiding, the spring is magical, a moment of gathering momentum, colors suddenly transforming from pink to green, blossom making way for leaf, a range of tones and promise that enchants. I thought often of this as I looked around me in Northern Michigan. Could I give up spring in Provence for a new life in these northern woods? Would a magnificent (if very long) winter and glorious autumn compensate? Perhaps, but the nostalgia would be there.
Meantime, it is summer, I'm sweating buckets, and all is cooked, as far as the eye can see. Lethargy sets in, or restlessness. Next burst of energy I'll attack the spider webs all over the house, but for this, first to the store for more vacuum bags. At least the mosquitoes are few.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Green Houses
When I was searching for a house to live in a few years' back, I was sorely tempted by the idea of finding a small patch of land and building my dream house upon it. It would be as energy efficient as possible, open to the South, protected to the North, with wood paneling and floors, compact and cozy, intelligent with storage space, shelves, closets, etc., intelligently thought out and built.
As life goes, it wasn't in the cards for me this time round. I purchased a very lovely old house made of stone, nestled in the corner of a larger structure, with painted cement and clay tile floors, and very little wood (other than the furniture I've put there). I'm not complaining. I love my home, but it is more than a bit drafty in the winter, and my gas bills are high, though I'm working on this by using a wood-burning stove in the winter, and simply limiting hot showers. My roof is East/West -- and as such not an ideal surface for solar panels (South is preferred), if I could afford them. My garden is small, but fine for me and my boys. I make do with what I have, improving it as I am able, and not unhappily.
However, amongst my friends on both sides of the Atlantic there are those who've built or are building homes along the lines of my dreams. I've visited some neat energy efficient and even off-the-grid homes in Michigan (a land of wood and pitched roofs) that render me wistful. Between intelligently placed solar panels and a windmill, and rain-water collecting containers, all energy needs can be attended to. Wow.
Here in Provence, my dear friend Martine is building the house of her dreams. It is mid-construction, and won't be ready for her for some time, but it is going quickly. It is tiny, but just right for a woman and her teenage son, or a visiting friend. Roland, her friend from Uzès, has designed it and leads the building team. Wood is omnipresent, organic/safe insulation, unbaked bricks, rounded windows, gliding doors, cupboards and shelves, mezzanines, solar panels. It is a perfect little house that will cost pennies to heat, and that will be lit by a maximum of natural light.
Granted, hers is the only one in her neighborhood to break from the tradition of cement or red bricks, masonry, stucco, and shallow pitched roofs (In Provence you need a special dispensation from the town hall to have a more steeply pitched roof better adapted for solar panels). Martine is the rebel for her village. But maybe, just maybe, others will see the lovely detailing in the doors and windows that just isn't possible in a stone house (cutting round edges is far easier in wood!) and reconsider. And oh, how cozy she's going to be.. and what a perfect spot for a shia tsu massage, or tai chi, or yoga?
Monday, July 6, 2009
My new bathroom sink
OK, it's no big deal, and it's been two weeks now, but finally, I've the photos, and I just wanted to put these up. Banal, personal, random. Yes, I admit it. Perhaps it's a girl thing? Fixing up a house and putting my personal stamp on it? At long last?
When I purchased my house in Avignon, it had particle-board based tiled surfaces in which were placed sinks -- both in the bathroom and the kitchen. These, were pulling away from the walls, the tiles were buckling, and the faucets were rusting in this ever-worsening environment of spongy woodishness. So, after two and a half years, I at last changed them.
I am very lucky that one of the mainstays of my Avignon existence is a dear and talented plumber (patient and willing) I've known since before Leo's birth. Few friends are so useful.
Changing the kitchen area was pretty easy. It now has two large round sinks, and a lovely wooden work surface -- covered in innumerable coats of organic hard oil. (see earlier post)
The bathroom was another matter. I was inspired by the bathroom choice of friends who live in the Vigan -- up in the Cévennes. They had found a bottom of a hutch, chopped holes in the top, placed their sink(s) and faucet(s) and used the shelves below for toiletries, etc., Neat, funky, personal, and easy, right? There are so many second-hand furniture places in the area, Emaus, Troc de l'île, Troc Souris, etc., that I just figured when it was time I'd make the rounds, pick up a suitable piece of furniture, and voila, it'd be easy. No IKEA neutral modern bathroom for me.
The first step went as planned. I went to three stores before finding a 1930s hutch with a reddish marble top, in a lovely solid red-toned wood. There was a mirror to go with it, and a top cabinet, but these I figured I'd get rid of, and/or deal with once I got the piece home. It was just 150 Euros -- a steal, right?
Once home, the challenges began. My nice round copper sinks (which were the only part of the former arrangement I rather liked) weren't going to fit. The piece was too shallow to take them, and cutting round holes in marble is not an easy or inexpensive task. Okay.
Next step, find a sink that would fit in this particular piece of furniture. Divided in three sections, the center hole (above a nice drawer) was 62x 40. I got onto Google, and away I went. And, I found it. IKEA had a sink that was 61x 41 -- the top measure, the bottom was smaller. So, with Pascale in my passenger seat on her own mission to purchase small rugs to put under yoga mats, off I went for a very long morning to IKEA (it's an hour plus drive from Avignon to the closest IKEA in Vitrolles, just outside of Marseille). Sink in hand, back home I came by 2pm, ready to get to work (or rather supervise said work).
The piece of furniture is too tall to be in the bathroom says Patrice. Hunh? Let's saw off the legs. No biggie, right? Hmmm. Patrice the plumber does as I ask, but grumbles a bit. And the faucet? Oh, can't we use these nice ones that were with the old sinks? Well, IKEA sinks are supposed to go with IKEA faucets, so that's easier said than done. -- Please?
A good bit of time and dexterous scrambling later, all is in place. There are aspects of the arrangement that are really pretty cool -- my bathroom is far "cleaner" than it used to be, with fewer items in view. The red-tinged marble is beautiful and practical. Unfortunately, rather than two sinks there's now only one, which is a shame. However, it is long and thus two people can still brush their teeth at the same time. Patrice tucked a length of oak behind the hutch, to deepen it and permit air space for the plumbing along the wall behind. I brushed a few coats of organic hard oil on it all to protect from splashes, toothpaste, etc.,
The renters -- particularly the Parisian theater artists -- think it's way cool, as did my girls Lucille and Magali before they left. Girlfriends find it lovely. Men go harrumph. JP commented that normally, when you brush your teeth at the sink, your feet go under the piece of furniture, so this would be an issue. Oh. Jonas happily steps onto the IKEA kid stool I've had for ages. So at least for him, the height doesnt' seem to be an issue. And other short people are welcome to use the stool too.
Yes, yet another example of a stubborn and somewhat artsy/funky woman getting her way, with some grumbling yet helpful men alongside. Here's the before and after:
When I purchased my house in Avignon, it had particle-board based tiled surfaces in which were placed sinks -- both in the bathroom and the kitchen. These, were pulling away from the walls, the tiles were buckling, and the faucets were rusting in this ever-worsening environment of spongy woodishness. So, after two and a half years, I at last changed them.
I am very lucky that one of the mainstays of my Avignon existence is a dear and talented plumber (patient and willing) I've known since before Leo's birth. Few friends are so useful.
Changing the kitchen area was pretty easy. It now has two large round sinks, and a lovely wooden work surface -- covered in innumerable coats of organic hard oil. (see earlier post)
The bathroom was another matter. I was inspired by the bathroom choice of friends who live in the Vigan -- up in the Cévennes. They had found a bottom of a hutch, chopped holes in the top, placed their sink(s) and faucet(s) and used the shelves below for toiletries, etc., Neat, funky, personal, and easy, right? There are so many second-hand furniture places in the area, Emaus, Troc de l'île, Troc Souris, etc., that I just figured when it was time I'd make the rounds, pick up a suitable piece of furniture, and voila, it'd be easy. No IKEA neutral modern bathroom for me.
The first step went as planned. I went to three stores before finding a 1930s hutch with a reddish marble top, in a lovely solid red-toned wood. There was a mirror to go with it, and a top cabinet, but these I figured I'd get rid of, and/or deal with once I got the piece home. It was just 150 Euros -- a steal, right?
Once home, the challenges began. My nice round copper sinks (which were the only part of the former arrangement I rather liked) weren't going to fit. The piece was too shallow to take them, and cutting round holes in marble is not an easy or inexpensive task. Okay.
Next step, find a sink that would fit in this particular piece of furniture. Divided in three sections, the center hole (above a nice drawer) was 62x 40. I got onto Google, and away I went. And, I found it. IKEA had a sink that was 61x 41 -- the top measure, the bottom was smaller. So, with Pascale in my passenger seat on her own mission to purchase small rugs to put under yoga mats, off I went for a very long morning to IKEA (it's an hour plus drive from Avignon to the closest IKEA in Vitrolles, just outside of Marseille). Sink in hand, back home I came by 2pm, ready to get to work (or rather supervise said work).
The piece of furniture is too tall to be in the bathroom says Patrice. Hunh? Let's saw off the legs. No biggie, right? Hmmm. Patrice the plumber does as I ask, but grumbles a bit. And the faucet? Oh, can't we use these nice ones that were with the old sinks? Well, IKEA sinks are supposed to go with IKEA faucets, so that's easier said than done. -- Please?
A good bit of time and dexterous scrambling later, all is in place. There are aspects of the arrangement that are really pretty cool -- my bathroom is far "cleaner" than it used to be, with fewer items in view. The red-tinged marble is beautiful and practical. Unfortunately, rather than two sinks there's now only one, which is a shame. However, it is long and thus two people can still brush their teeth at the same time. Patrice tucked a length of oak behind the hutch, to deepen it and permit air space for the plumbing along the wall behind. I brushed a few coats of organic hard oil on it all to protect from splashes, toothpaste, etc.,
The renters -- particularly the Parisian theater artists -- think it's way cool, as did my girls Lucille and Magali before they left. Girlfriends find it lovely. Men go harrumph. JP commented that normally, when you brush your teeth at the sink, your feet go under the piece of furniture, so this would be an issue. Oh. Jonas happily steps onto the IKEA kid stool I've had for ages. So at least for him, the height doesnt' seem to be an issue. And other short people are welcome to use the stool too.
Yes, yet another example of a stubborn and somewhat artsy/funky woman getting her way, with some grumbling yet helpful men alongside. Here's the before and after:
Thursday, July 2, 2009
The final cleaning and dunking
Before the kids' departure Friday with their father, we all enjoyed a final dunking, and I a final vacuuming and skimming of the pool. The house is surrounded by fields of sunflowers in full bloom. They couldn't be more fantastic. There, lying back enjoying the cool water, or simply walking slowly in the water skimmer in hand, I revel in a view of golden fields beyond.... Wow. I think I'll miss it all when I hand over the house. I do hope the renters enjoy it half as much as I do.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Nearly the end of June...
I'm having an extraordinarily hard time being creative while frantically and non-stoppingly cleaning my house, pool, garden, etc., Somehow creative writing, the flow of ideas, and yes, the time necessary to upload photos, and do said writing, just seem out of my grasp these days.
I'm sifting through toys: my house (renters can play with), my house (under the stairwell), Erick's house, and trash. I'm dusting shelf after shelf after shelf. I'm taking note that I need more wine glasses (where did they all go???); that the neighbor's septic system is not functioning well (not this again?); that the other neighbor's well pump must have a broken air balloon (water balloon?... whatever); that my office and papers haven't been put in order in a long while, and must be before I depart here on Saturday. Will they fit under the stairwell too?
So much is already done, but so much is yet to be done. Those last minute details always take vastly more time that you can imagine. How thoroughly will I do the oven this year? Will I try to unscrew the back wall screws and clean the fan??? Am I up for that? My new bathroom sink is in place (yippee!! photos will come soon), but there's just a wee thing yet to fix... Goodness I'm lucky to have a dear friend who's a plumber!
The boys and all of us are exhausted. My young Gaetan is taking naps upon returning to the house (my 8th grader, son of goat cheese makers); Jonas collapsed in a nap in the gym while Leo and his friends were yelling and running and sending balls kareening over our heads. Leo fell asleep before dinner the other day, and Lucille basically comes home and goes right to bed, emerging in time for dinner.
Yes, it is the end of the year. The sun goes down just before 10. The sky is light and the world is alive. The wind is non-stop, stimulating and enervating in the worst sense.
Still to be done -- getting the green garbage to the dump; everyone's sheets on Friday afternoon; vacuuming the pool (and figuring out how said vacuum works...); more vacuuming and mopping of the whole house (saturday morning). another scrub of the shower and tub; packing of last suit cases, removal of last clothes... almost there... another mow of the lawn (and I'll need to water it too! the wind is wreaking havoc on my lovely green carpet!).
I'll get there, but yes, creativity is taking a dive. Hopefully, next week, once this is all handled, I'll be able to let loose the creative juices. And then, where shall I let them take me?
I'm sifting through toys: my house (renters can play with), my house (under the stairwell), Erick's house, and trash. I'm dusting shelf after shelf after shelf. I'm taking note that I need more wine glasses (where did they all go???); that the neighbor's septic system is not functioning well (not this again?); that the other neighbor's well pump must have a broken air balloon (water balloon?... whatever); that my office and papers haven't been put in order in a long while, and must be before I depart here on Saturday. Will they fit under the stairwell too?
So much is already done, but so much is yet to be done. Those last minute details always take vastly more time that you can imagine. How thoroughly will I do the oven this year? Will I try to unscrew the back wall screws and clean the fan??? Am I up for that? My new bathroom sink is in place (yippee!! photos will come soon), but there's just a wee thing yet to fix... Goodness I'm lucky to have a dear friend who's a plumber!
The boys and all of us are exhausted. My young Gaetan is taking naps upon returning to the house (my 8th grader, son of goat cheese makers); Jonas collapsed in a nap in the gym while Leo and his friends were yelling and running and sending balls kareening over our heads. Leo fell asleep before dinner the other day, and Lucille basically comes home and goes right to bed, emerging in time for dinner.
Yes, it is the end of the year. The sun goes down just before 10. The sky is light and the world is alive. The wind is non-stop, stimulating and enervating in the worst sense.
Still to be done -- getting the green garbage to the dump; everyone's sheets on Friday afternoon; vacuuming the pool (and figuring out how said vacuum works...); more vacuuming and mopping of the whole house (saturday morning). another scrub of the shower and tub; packing of last suit cases, removal of last clothes... almost there... another mow of the lawn (and I'll need to water it too! the wind is wreaking havoc on my lovely green carpet!).
I'll get there, but yes, creativity is taking a dive. Hopefully, next week, once this is all handled, I'll be able to let loose the creative juices. And then, where shall I let them take me?
Monday, June 8, 2009
Readying the House for the Summer Rentals
I've a lovely house in Avignon. Truly, as I sought a new home in the region, and gaped and gawked at the possibilities (and/or lack thereof) this house answered my prayers. Just the right size for the boys and me, plus a room or two to rent or to transform one day into an office. There's the garden out back where I could put a small pool, a first effort at a vegetable garden, my roses, and more. And we're surrounded by small country roads, fields filled with wheat, or this year sunflowers, and orchards of apples, pears and peaches. Each evening that I can eat my dinner with the children on the terrace I thank my lucky stars. I find it incredible that for twelve of my years in Provence I lived in a town house in town, with no terrace, no balcony, no courtyard, no garden. All meals were eaten inside the darkness of the house, and rarely did I see the clear or cloudy skies, nor the night stars. I feel blessed.
However, this house came at a price -- and one which I continue to pay in the form of a rather steep mortgage (let's say that if I got a normal job tomorrow in France, I wouldn't be able to cover the mortgage with ease). But, I chose the house with the idea of a summer rental (or two or three) in mind. My parents rented our house in New York most summers -- it is by Long Island Sound and a private sandy beach. They also rented our summer house for the weeks we weren't there, and a small apartment in the basement of the NY house. I think it was my father who was so smart about money and expenses. He immediately saw the virtues in renting our homes, and thus put into motion years of intense late spring cleanings to ready for said renters.
Hence I've followed in the tradition. Knowing that I like to spend the summer -- at least a portion of it -- with my family in Michigan, and that I've friends who might house me should I need such here in Provence, I rent my Avignon house for as much of this period as possible. My boys are either with my family in the States or with their father from the last day of school till the week before school starts. Thus another potential problem handled.
But, this remunerative act does not come without a hell of a lot of work. I begin the first day of June, and I'll be cleaning and organizing through to the afternoon arrival of my first renters on the 27th. I've removed all winter and cold weather clothes of the boys and myself, and gone through all of these, putting whatever is too small, etc., into a Red Cross bag. I've already sent most of these suitcases and cases to JP's very large garage. I'm fixing whatever needs fixing -- this year it is the kitchen and bathroom sinks and counters. They were really not in good shape, wobbling faucets, etc., So, I've bitten the bullet and put the changes into motion. The kitchen is nearly done, but now the bathroom is awaiting our attention. I've purchased an art deco hutch/buffet that I'll put a wide rectangular sink into (IKEA) with the plan that we keep the marble top of the hutch (sawing it in half/removing the middle). As the hutch is a bit tall, we'll saw off the feet... this is the plan in any case. My plumber is a bit wary, but I'm, as they say, rather determined?
Once these jobs are done, the house is pretty much in good shape -- though my roof still leaks when there are fierce rain storms, but that will need to wait till I've serious money, i.e. after the sale of the b&b in Arles. Ah yes, I need to tighten the legs of the barbecue as well.
I'll remove everything fragile or of sentimental value throughout the house -- dishes, cups, glasses, bowls, pictures of the boys, artwork, etc., I leave a stash of toys for the renters (should they have kids) and the children's books, my library, a collection of cds and the stereo, ditto my culinary library (though the majority be in English...), kitchen supplies, tools, equipment, spices, etc., And for each family of renters, I try to provide a welcome basket with some pasta, wine, olive oil, crackers, coffee, milk etc., for their first dinner and breakfast in the house.
I will repaint my kitchen floor -- something I now do yearly as the traffic that runs through the ground floor is pretty amazing: me, the 5 kids, Filou and his friend Saline, whatever friends come by, etc.,
Then, I'll attack all the machines -- scrubbing, disinfecting, etc., and I'll take out the vacuum, duster/wet clothes and sponges to clean behind and under the beds and shelves, atop every piece of furniture in those hard to reach places. I should really wear a dust mask for all this as I'll be sneezing and wheezing away.
I'll go through the sheets to be sure only the ones without holes are in the cupboard, organize them to be sure that singles/fitted/queen etc., are carefully divided up, label, and fold them to perfection.
My house has neither a garage nor an attic, nor a spare room that I close off. So, I try to get our things as compact as possible, and transfer them either to JP's or to Erick's house in Arles for the summer. I've a small space under the stairwell, and it will be full, that's certain. If I'm able, I'll hang an opaque curtain there this summer to prevent the otherwise decided eyesore.
Then, the garden -- to be freshly mown, the pool pristine, the directions on how to use said mower, maintain the pool etc., well typed out. And, if I'm all set, flowers on the table for their arrival.
It's a doozy of a job. Other years I had Hayley or Virginia (the au pair in 2007) to help out. But this year, I'm on my own. So, day by day, job by job, I'll work my way through it all.
The virtues of this act are many -- my house will be thoroughly feng shuied, cleaned, dust and cob web free, barren of personal effects. I will have had a chance to go through everything I own, clean out, remove, discard, give away. And next fall, when we move back in, I can contemplate different arrangements, or put everything back as it was, but cleaner, fresher.
But I can say now, on the 28th, I'll be a royal mess. Just let me sleep. ok?
However, this house came at a price -- and one which I continue to pay in the form of a rather steep mortgage (let's say that if I got a normal job tomorrow in France, I wouldn't be able to cover the mortgage with ease). But, I chose the house with the idea of a summer rental (or two or three) in mind. My parents rented our house in New York most summers -- it is by Long Island Sound and a private sandy beach. They also rented our summer house for the weeks we weren't there, and a small apartment in the basement of the NY house. I think it was my father who was so smart about money and expenses. He immediately saw the virtues in renting our homes, and thus put into motion years of intense late spring cleanings to ready for said renters.
Hence I've followed in the tradition. Knowing that I like to spend the summer -- at least a portion of it -- with my family in Michigan, and that I've friends who might house me should I need such here in Provence, I rent my Avignon house for as much of this period as possible. My boys are either with my family in the States or with their father from the last day of school till the week before school starts. Thus another potential problem handled.
But, this remunerative act does not come without a hell of a lot of work. I begin the first day of June, and I'll be cleaning and organizing through to the afternoon arrival of my first renters on the 27th. I've removed all winter and cold weather clothes of the boys and myself, and gone through all of these, putting whatever is too small, etc., into a Red Cross bag. I've already sent most of these suitcases and cases to JP's very large garage. I'm fixing whatever needs fixing -- this year it is the kitchen and bathroom sinks and counters. They were really not in good shape, wobbling faucets, etc., So, I've bitten the bullet and put the changes into motion. The kitchen is nearly done, but now the bathroom is awaiting our attention. I've purchased an art deco hutch/buffet that I'll put a wide rectangular sink into (IKEA) with the plan that we keep the marble top of the hutch (sawing it in half/removing the middle). As the hutch is a bit tall, we'll saw off the feet... this is the plan in any case. My plumber is a bit wary, but I'm, as they say, rather determined?
Once these jobs are done, the house is pretty much in good shape -- though my roof still leaks when there are fierce rain storms, but that will need to wait till I've serious money, i.e. after the sale of the b&b in Arles. Ah yes, I need to tighten the legs of the barbecue as well.
I'll remove everything fragile or of sentimental value throughout the house -- dishes, cups, glasses, bowls, pictures of the boys, artwork, etc., I leave a stash of toys for the renters (should they have kids) and the children's books, my library, a collection of cds and the stereo, ditto my culinary library (though the majority be in English...), kitchen supplies, tools, equipment, spices, etc., And for each family of renters, I try to provide a welcome basket with some pasta, wine, olive oil, crackers, coffee, milk etc., for their first dinner and breakfast in the house.
I will repaint my kitchen floor -- something I now do yearly as the traffic that runs through the ground floor is pretty amazing: me, the 5 kids, Filou and his friend Saline, whatever friends come by, etc.,
Then, I'll attack all the machines -- scrubbing, disinfecting, etc., and I'll take out the vacuum, duster/wet clothes and sponges to clean behind and under the beds and shelves, atop every piece of furniture in those hard to reach places. I should really wear a dust mask for all this as I'll be sneezing and wheezing away.
I'll go through the sheets to be sure only the ones without holes are in the cupboard, organize them to be sure that singles/fitted/queen etc., are carefully divided up, label, and fold them to perfection.
My house has neither a garage nor an attic, nor a spare room that I close off. So, I try to get our things as compact as possible, and transfer them either to JP's or to Erick's house in Arles for the summer. I've a small space under the stairwell, and it will be full, that's certain. If I'm able, I'll hang an opaque curtain there this summer to prevent the otherwise decided eyesore.
Then, the garden -- to be freshly mown, the pool pristine, the directions on how to use said mower, maintain the pool etc., well typed out. And, if I'm all set, flowers on the table for their arrival.
It's a doozy of a job. Other years I had Hayley or Virginia (the au pair in 2007) to help out. But this year, I'm on my own. So, day by day, job by job, I'll work my way through it all.
The virtues of this act are many -- my house will be thoroughly feng shuied, cleaned, dust and cob web free, barren of personal effects. I will have had a chance to go through everything I own, clean out, remove, discard, give away. And next fall, when we move back in, I can contemplate different arrangements, or put everything back as it was, but cleaner, fresher.
But I can say now, on the 28th, I'll be a royal mess. Just let me sleep. ok?
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Projects Accomplished (with help)
When the household projects get a bit much for poor ol' me, helpers come in all shapes in sizes. A nearly twelve year old boy can be cajoled (or coerced) to facing down the buzzing wasps and helping to mop out a pool. A herd of five (from seven to seventeen) can be promised ice cream and strawberries, in exchange for breaking down large branches of dead fig tree. A friend can be recompensed with a good meal, wine and coffee in exchange for helping put up mosquito netting in the bedroom windows, and rebuilding the garden fence. And thank goodness, my plumber is a friend, aka guardian angel, who comes when called. My bathroom is still in the planning stages, but at least the kitchen counter and sink are quickly nearing completion.
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