Visionquest: #fixerupperdetroit

We've owned #fixerupperdetroit for more than a month now. I attended the first Greenacres neighborhood radio patrol party as a guest of our anext door neighbor last night, and I'm still in awe that anyone is letting us join a neighborhood like this, let alone that they're so happy to see us move in.

Because I spent a lot of life feeling that I didn't really belong.

I think it's the human condition, perhaps, to feel that we don't quite fit, but regular readers know the exceptional struggle Rebecca and I have faced to find a place that our marriage makes sense. Somehow, in making this decision that doesn't make financial sense, or time management sense, or a lot of the other kinds of sense American culture promotes, we are finding that we fit. Pinch me, because I think I might be dreaming, in that semi-lucid state where I can control some of the outcomes, and I can fly.

And while the work involved in restoring our home to its previous splendor is considerable, and sometimes I'm overwhelmed, it's allowed us the privilege to shape its use much more than a move-in ready home would. And that's a blessing - I'm so grateful.

Here you see a peek into our dining room on the left, what will become my prep space in the middle, and the kitchen on the right. That pass-through window was a big selling point for us.

So what is planned for this home? I won't show you our architect's drawings, because I want there to be drama left for the big reveal, but here are some of the things we'll be able to do in the house when it's done (and by done, I mean about three stages of renovation and a decade from now):

1. Look out the window into the yard while washing dishes.

I don't like washing dishes. It's sticky and gross and sometimes smells weird and just doesn't feel that satisfying. But one of the reasons I've never liked it is having to stand under a fluorescent light and stare at a wall. In this house, our sink will be moved in front of a window.

2. Look out the window onto bird feeders while doing food prep.

I'll have a suction-cup bird feeder (maybe a finch feeder? will those come to Detroit? or a hummingbird feeder?) and maybe some colored glass and I hope some flowering trees in the yard. As I prep to feed people, I'll be able to have sunshine on my face, and when it's warm enough, a breeze across my skin. This activity will be made possible by LabraDesign+Build's willingness to alter their original plans, restore a window to its original size, and maximize food prep surfaces.

3. Comfortably seat/feed a dozen people for dinner.

Those of you who know us are aware that we're capable of fitting 20 people into a one-bedroom apartment with a den and making sure everyone leaves full, even using a small galley-style kitchen (yes, this happened our senior year of college, before we were a couple - the fact that we didn't kill each other was probably a sign our relationship will last forever). Having an actual dining room means being able to feed lots of people without so many acrobatics. I can't promise you a three-course meal, but if you're good with soup, or casserole, or dinner-sized salads, or something off the grill, we'll have room for you. One of our issues in most of our apartments has been having a place to put serving dishes during the meal with the size of our current table and shortage of other space. We'll have room for a buffet-type piece of furniture, or a space in the kitchen to stage things while people fill their plates. That leaves room on a (much bigger) dining room table for things like . . . dishes. Water glasses. You know, stuff people need to eat. And having room for a china cabinet means more efficient use of my kitchen for things like cutting boards and prep bowls, instead of the precarious stacks of dishes I currently live with. (This will also probably prompt a serving piece inventory in which we decide what we actually use, what is decorative enough to stay anyway, and what needs a new home, if you are in the market for some awesome vintage/antique pieces.)

4. Write with fewer distractions.

We'll be spoiled enough in this house to each have an office and still have space for not one, but two, guest rooms (for now, anyway). My will serve mostly as a writing studio. I'm planning - yes, women plan, God laughs - to be vigilant about banning distractions like housework from my office so that when I'm there, I can focus on getting my thoughts out. One of my long term goals has become to write a book or two, and it's pretty hard to write memoirs while adjacent to a stack of dirty dishes or the books I'm supposed to be prepping for work. I recognize what an incredible luxury it will be to create a calm, reflective space to get my writing done. I'm looking forward to it, though I will have a lot fewer excuses not to write once it's ready.

5. Grow stuff. A lot of stuff.

Our yard isn't sizable, but it's bigger than a windowsill or tiny patio, which is all we've had up until now. We'll probably wait through a year to see what comes up on its own before we undertake major landscaping projects (other than removal of some very invasive mulberry trees that were obviously a problem). I have a feeling that my potted herbs I'm (so far) successfully overwintering will be excited to have space, and I'm excited to stop buying my basil and arugula at the grocery store. We are signed up for a community-supported agriculture share with Faith Farm, so I'll try to balance our veggies and herbs with what we get from them. (Are you seeing a theme yet about how much I like to feed people?)  

An aside: our neighborhood isn't in one of Detroit's infamous food deserts. We have accessible grocery stores - a selection of them in fact. But if you're concerned about those living in food deserts, donating a share to a family in need via Faith Farm's program is a great way to make sure senior citizens or families with children have healthy food.

I dream of forsythia bushes, lilacs, a flowering tree (maybe a decorative cherry? or plum? I'd say a crabapple, but I'd basically end up with the mulberry issue all over again), too. And a rain garden to manage roof runoff so that our basement floors aren't so damp (there's been no flooding, thank goodness, but moisture control is still a concern). And seating areas for reading or drawing or thinking. If we optimize our yard, it will feel bigger, more useful, and more manageable than its actual size.

In Conclusion

Thinking of what the house will be puts an involuntary soft smile on my face. I know, from living life, that bad things will happen. Our house makes me hopeful, though, that our best days are ahead.

And I think that's true for Detroit as a whole, too.