Stay with Me: Belated Eulogy for my Late Doriancat

I didn't understand the strength I gained from the support of my elderly cat until after he passed.

We picked him up from a no-kill shelter in October of 2010. He was giant, orange, front declawed, and listed as very gentle. I think the listing said his age was 2+ - meaning that he had arrived at the shelter as an adult, and they had no idea how old he was. They said that he had been found wandering near a barn in the middle of the winter and been surrendered by the family that discovered him because he made a terrible barn cat, but they couldn't keep him in the house due to allergies.

Based on that information, Dorian sat at the shelter for six months waiting for a family. The woman who helped us said that in that time, no one but us had come to see him. I think a part of him always knew that we were his special family and that he waited at that shelter so long because he belonged with us.

He hid under the bed for the first couple days, but as he adjusted, he took up snuggling us while we sat on the couch. He was never happier than when he could sit between Rebecca and me.

The first time it snowed, he sat in the window, stared outside, and cried. We knew that he must have spent too much time out in the cold after he was abandoned. We closed the blinds and tucked him into a blanket.

The first time we moved him, we didn't consider his abandonment issues because he was doing so well. But as the furniture moved out of our apartment, his anxiety grew. I ended up sitting on the floor with him in an empty bedroom, trying to convince him that he was, indeed, going with us. He was inconsolable.

Each time we moved, we got a little bit better at moving him - and he grew a bit more trusting that we were his forever family. By the time we moved to #fixerupperdetroit, he clearly knew that his home was with us, wherever that was.

And though he was initially very skeptical when we brought home another cat - he had enjoyed undivided attention for three years at that point - the fact that he preferred to be transported in the same carrier as Cesar was proof that he loved having another cat around.

The house feels very empty now, without him. He followed our work crews around and was often a little trip hazard as he stood behind people. He greeted us at the door whenever possible, and even tried to learn Rebecca's erratic schedule so that he'd be ready when she came home. His affection toward strangers seemed so characteristic of him that it wasn't until after he passed that I realized that he hadn't been nearly so outgoing when we first brought him home.

And I wondered what changed. Is it that he became the host with the most? Was it that he drew so much courage from belonging to a family? Was it that he was trying to protect us?

Some people would say that he was just a cat, but those people don't understand. Rebecca and I often spent more time with Dorian than we did with each other these last few years due to our conflicting work schedules. He was a constant to come home to. He was unconditionally loving and comforting. A few months after we got him, I realized that one of my anxiety management techniques was to pretend I was holding him (or to hold him if he was around). He always purred when I picked him up.

In the last few months, he lost a lot of weight and his health declined. He insisted on doing the stairs at #fixerupperdetroit in spite of his clearly aching joints. We took him to the veterinarian, who told us that he was likely much older than we originally thought and that there was probably little we could do. Late a few Sundays ago, his condition worsened, and on the following Monday, it became apparent that he was suffering. He still tried to follow me around the house, but he could only take a few steps at a time. Rebecca and I did the only thing we had left to do for him, which was to take him to the veterinarian to be euthanized.

This was Dorian's "stay with me" move: putting his paw over my hand so that I wouldn't get up. Here he is doing it on the last day with us, when he couldn't really walk anymore and just wanted me to sit on the floor with him.

It was the first time Rebecca and I have ever had to make such a decision, either individually or separately. I know it was the right decision, but  that doesn't make it easier to live without him. His presence in our home made me safe and brave all at once. While we love our other cat, he has a very different personality, and in his own grief can't really comfort us.

We got a kitten a few weeks ago who has many of the qualities we loved so much about Dorian. I'm sure, though, no matter how hard we look, that we won't find another cat who will both tuck us in at night and greet us at the door.

They broke the mold after Dorian.

#owneroccupieDetroit: The Joy of Sweat Equity

When I woke up today, everything hurt. In fact, that's been true for several days now.

I've been sanding plaster, scraping trim, priming, painting, etc for days, and my body definitely isn't used to this kind of work. My scalp isn't used to plaster dust. My arms aren't used to being above my head for long periods, my legs aren't used to ascending and descending step ladders constantly, my knees aren't used to squatting and kneeling to cut in base boards. A lot of the tasks are tedious.

And yet there's a deep joy in all of it. With every brush stroke, I make meaning out of the months of struggle we had to purchase this house. I think back on the years of pain, when I couldn't have imagined living in a home like this. I pray over the rooms, that they will be places of peace and joy not only for us, but for the guests who come to us.

I can't feel that I own this house. Perhaps because I don't feel worthy, perhaps I'm still in shock, but I think it's more than that.

I'm not sure I believe that people can own houses, or at least, I don't believe that it's possible for me to own this one. It has too much history behind it. It's giant, not only physically, but socially. The deed, the mortgage - they're big deals, but it feels like I'm borrowing a part of history, or stewarding it for a period, so that it remains for the future to find love and joy in it too.

And that makes it easier to work through our lack of a kitchen, the dust everywhere, the missing electrical and plumbing. We are blessed to have been approved for enough funds to redo or restore a lot of things the house really needs after so many years of neglect. We know what's in the walls, and we will know that the parts that have been repaired have been done right this time. It meant leaving some projects for later, but at this point, we're so used to delaying gratification that the anticipation itself is gratifying.

After all, leaving things until later means that there's a later. Here. In this amazing house.

Dear Hallmark: You Don't Have a V-Day Card for Me

Dear Hallmark,

I know you are working overtime to make money around Valentines' Day. I heard your commercial trying to convince me that you have a card for every love story. 

You have a lot of cards. That fit a lot of love stories. But I guarantee you don't have one that says:

"I'm so glad I took you, as my college roommate, to Indian food and the Spartan Discords for Valentines' Day our senior year of college. And fell in love with you."

Or

"I'm glad we started a now-defunct urban farming non-profit so we could meet so many wonderful people."

Or

"I'm glad you  asked me to go with you to medical school, and I'm grateful we both survived."

You don't have a card that says:

 "I would fight for marriage equality with you for a hundred more years if it meant we'd be together."

Or

"#fixerupperdetroit is only perfect because I'm doing it with you. You're my home, now and forever, no matter where we end up."

Maybe that's because Valentines' Day is still very heteronormative. 

 

In our case, though, I think even if we were straight, our love story would be unusual. I think that in this world, it is rare and hard and beautiful for helpmates to truly find each other and be able to move in the same direction. I'm so grateful that Rebecca and I have known each other for so long and have chosen to love fiercely, even when our story was nontraditional, even when the legal system denied us recognition, even though our families didn't approve. Life isn't a romantic comedy. There aren't very many happily ever afters. The loose ends don't get tied up. Just when you get closed on your dream home, the land bank posts a seizure notice. 

Rebecca spent fourteen hours today caring for pediatric patients at DMC Children's Hospital. She isn't home yet but should be soon. She will be exhausted, and she will complain, but she will also light up to tell me about the father who stayed to suction his infant daughter's nose, tap her chest to help her breathe, and sit by her side. She will laugh at the antics of her adolescent patients. 

 

Supporting that is much more in the spirit of St Valentine than a box of chocolates ever could be.

Mythbusters: #fixerupperdetroit edition

As most of you know by now, Rebecca and I closed on a fixer upper in Detroit about a week and a half ago. We've been doing the #househuntersdetroit journey since roundabout May, so it's been a long time coming.

During our voyage into homeownership, I've heard a lot of comments about Detroit - many wonderful, true, and encouraging. Some true and discouraging.

Some false, though. Some pretty serious misconceptions about the city have come up. And I'm not an expert, but I've grown up in the metro area, worked in the city on and off for several years now, spent the last seven months looking at homes in different neighborhoods, know and love many Detroiters, and have a somewhat captive audience (that's you, reader! even though I know you're not that captive - thanks for choosing to read on).

So here are some of the myths I've heard mentioned, explicitly or implicitly, during the last several months.

1. Detroit is a wasteland/slum/vacant.

I didn't realize how many people believe that no one really lives in Detroit anymore, or that the only people who live there have no choice, or that all the housing stock there is ruined and terrible. Driving through the city for even a short while will debunk this, so see myth #2.

2. Some areas of Detroit are good, but if you get lost and leave them, you are in trouble.

This is a popular one, in part because it sounds less prejudiced or more knowledgeable, I think. Many areas of Detroit are good. Many are okay but not great. Some are in bad shape, but here's something I want you to read out loud until you believe it:

People visit Detroit every day. Many of them get lost because the city is confusing to navigate. Everyone I know who has ever visited Detroit has gotten lost at some point. I don't know anyone who has been harmed. You probably don't either. You are unlikely to become the exception.

Certainly, some neighborhoods have problems. I'm not suggesting you seek them out and wander them at night alone announcing that you have a lot of cash on you. But readers, you know you probably wouldn't do that in any city. If you mind your own business and are polite, you will find more help than harm. Detroiters are some of the friendliest people in the world, as a general rule (it's true, ask anyone who's been).

3. The neighborhoods that are doing well are where the hipsters have moved in.

Yes, Midtown is at 100% occupancy with waiting lists. Yes, prices have risen in the New Center and Corktown and Downtown. Yes, a lot of hipsters live there.

But you know what other places are doing well? Indian Village. A lot of the Villages, really. Greenacres. University. Palmer. Sherwood. A host of others. You're hearing about the places the hipsters have moved to because it makes a better story - it's news. There are a lot of neighborhoods that maintained very high occupancy rates even during the Recession, though. There are a lot of people who chose to stay because they loved the city, have had their house for 15, 20, 40, 50 years, not because they can't leave but because they don't want to. It's not news that someone stayed in their house because they love it, but it's what has happened. Sure, the hipsters have filled up certain areas, but Detroit was never vacant, and there are great neighborhoods not inhabited primarily by college student hippie young professional art and tech types.

4. Buying property in Detroit right now is a good financial investment.

Honestly, no one knows if this is true. No one ever knows in real estate, but Detroit is a new situation. They had no natural disaster - they had a financial disaster instead. The city does appear to be coming back, but there are a lot of hidden costs to living there. For us, it doesn't make financial sense to move there, not really. We're doing it anyway because we love the neighborhood and are now blessed enough to be able to make decisions not completely based on finances. It's looking like our house may appreciate in value. If it doesn't, as long as we are able to pay it off, we'll be okay. Buying property in the city is definitely not for the faint of heart, and it's not easy money at all. Holding costs and taxes are higher. I'm not telling you not to buy. I bought a house. But the financial payoff isn't guaranteed. Not everywhere in the city is a "hot" market. Neighborhoods aren't casinos. Gambling like they are has consequences. And some of the best places just aren't going to be a good investment because the prices are already much higher and/or the homes don't need flipping.

5. Houses in Detroit all cost $1000 (or $500 or $5000, or some other small number).

Yes, there was a time during the housing crisis when you could calculate the average home price to be under $10,000 if you managed the data a certain way. Yes, there are programs where houses are auctioned starting at small amounts. Like I said, there are a lot of hidden costs - often, the back taxes, very significant renovations, back utility bills, etc. Not all houses are essentially "free" as I've heard some people implicitly believe. Even on a two income salary with one of them a physician's salary (albeit lower for now because my helpmate is a resident) there are a LOT of homes out of our price range. And with the economy improving, you're not going to snap up that move-in ready 5,000 square foot Tudor for $10,000. In a lot of neighborhoods, homes are going for over the listing price.

6. Everyone in Detroit is poor.

I realized people believe this when someone indirectly suggested that people in our new neighborhood make under $15,000 a year. This seems to accompany a lot of the other myths - that people would move out of the city if they could, or at least out of any neighborhood that the hipsters aren't currently living in. Many Detroiters are living in poverty, it's true. Unemployment is unacceptably high, especially for certain populations. Underemployment and stagnant low wages are also deeply problematic. We need to do more to get people employed in good, stable jobs. But many Detroiters are middle and upper class. After all, someone must be living in the homes Rebecca and I can't afford.

7. The schools in Detroit are terrible.

Many are. Yes. I won't deny that. I have worked in several. The school district has many issues. But some of the schools - Renaissance, FLICS, Cass, DSA - produce very talented graduates. A blanket statement that there are no good public schools in Detroit is wrong.

8. Detroit is so much better now that it has Meijer and Whole Foods.

Detroit did and does have food desert areas. The places that these stores have gone in weren't really among them. And the concern that these large chains will put smaller, family-owned stores out of business is not misplaced.

9. You'll leave once you have kids.

If we are blessed to add children to our family, we will talk about it then. It's obviously complicated. But many families do live in the city with children, navigate the school system, and make it work. The type of people that choose to stay in the city or choose to move there are used to facing challenges.

10. You need to do specific things to "flip" your home so that it will have value/attract the "right" buyer.

I've heard a lot of opinions about what kind of floors, counters, backsplash, appliances we should put in. Most are based on current HGTV shows. We aren't flipping this home. This isn't Rehab Addict or one of the other HGTV shows based on real estate investment. We intend to live in this home for a significant amount of time. Trends perceived to be "timeless" now will undoubtedly look dated. Our plan is to put in things we like and deal with selling the home in due time. It's not an investment property, we're not looking to turn it over quickly - it's our home. And the idea of the "right" buyer is fraught with classist and racist undertones. Also, I repeat, neighborhoods are not casinos. We're not gambling here. I have a job. Rebecca has a job. Our income is not based on turning over this property. There's nothing inherently bad about doing that, provided it's done ethically, but it isn't our goal.

In conclusion: I know you didn't all believe all of these. Many of you didn't believe any or most. But these myths come from statements people have made, based on assumptions that some people seem to take as fact. I encourage you, if you haven't and can do so, to visit the city. Not just to attend a sporting event or visit a museum. Take a stroll through one of the neighborhoods. Meet people. You might be surprised.

Not Ruin Porn: #fixerupperdetroit photos in the middle

For those of you who haven't heard the phrase "ruin porn," let me educate you:

The term is used to refer to photos taken, especially in Detroit and other Rust Belt cities, that emphasize the decay and decadence of formerly beautiful structures. Michigan Central Station is sort of the quintessential ruin porn subject because it was so, so grand to begin with - enormous, elegant, luxurious - and then became abandoned, scrapped, vacant (click the link to see a Google image search to prove my point).

The original intention of this post, from months ago when we were still in the #househuntersdetroit phase, was to show you how photographers create that haunting, tragic ruin porn feel. I don't know if there's still money in setting up these types of images. I hope that part of the Detroit story is played out - although if someone wants to do a series on the tragedy that is Detroit Public Schools and the non-vacant ruins children still learn in, in order to promote and finance improvements, have at it.

Overall, though, ruin porn doesn't tell the whole story of the city, isn't empowering to residents, and in some ways, appeals to the worst of human nature: the twisted satisfaction from seeing what was once beautiful now broken, corrupted, destroyed.

So I thought that I was going to have a photographer friend take a few examples of #fixerupperdetroit and set them to look like ruin porn to prove a point. I figured that after demolition and before renovation would be the best time. How hard could it be to get the bones of my house to look sad?

My friend Nick Fenton met me at the house recently to take a series of photographs. I explained what I was trying to do, and he's been following the story for a while. I told him about our plans for each room and our goal for the home overall.

I picked the wrong photographer for this project.

Not because the photos aren't amazing.

They are.

But because Nick got the story too well. He was able to see the potential, the resolution of the story. He, like me, doesn't see the house as ruined. And his art reflects the story that we see in this house.

Sure, she's in a rough spot right now, as you can see here:

Kitchen - only the bones left (and not even some of those) - she's down to the subfloor, the shiplap, the studs, and a little insulation.

A view of the kitchen from the dining room. The view through this cutout sets up a juxtaposition, since we're doing very little to the dining room right now even though the kitchen is a total rehab.

The flip side of that juxtaposition. You can see how little we've done to the dining room compared to the kitchen.

The stairs are likely getting new floor and a new banister, and you can maybe see in the very corner where a new lavatory will go, but again, look how much of the living room will stay as-is.

Here you can see the stairs, stripped down to the original hardwood (now cracked and splintered in a few spots), next to the demolition in the kitchen and the spot we've prepped for the new lavatory.

I love the perspective on this one. Here you're looking through the space we've demo'ed in preparation for the lavatory. The hallway is in rough shape right now, but you still catch a glimpse of our gorgeous bay window and high living room ceiling.

This is the boiler room in our basement. The boiler has been replaced, and new boilers are much more efficient and therefore smaller, so the room is awkward and a little creepy - but I defy you to find a basement utility room that isn't a little scary. We'll be fixing a lot of the hookups in here, and some parts of the heating system have been repaired since about a week after we purchased.

Even in the photos that show the worst conditions, I can't see anything but potential. I don't get that haunting, sad, frightened feeling that certain images of the train station or old theaters give. I can't imagine any amount of editing will evoke that. Maybe that's because I love #fixerupperdetroit so much and am still so deeply grateful to have been able to purchase a home this wonderful. Maybe I'm an eternal optimist.

And then there are the other photos. The ones that would never be ruin porn, because there's absolutely nothing ruined in them. Have a look:

This is a family room/study in the basement. We're pretty sure that fireplace is hooked up for gas, and the built-ins are in solid shape. A new valve on the ceiling radiator, and all this room needs is a deep clean, lamps, and lounge furniture.

This will be Rebecca's study when the home is finished. Some of the doors need a little work, and a few panes of glass must be replaced, but the room doesn't need a true rehab.

This is the upstairs full bath. It's been redone since the house was built, so it isn't original. Someday, I'd like to restore it to a more late 1920s feel. But it needs only minor cosmetic and plumbing work for the most part (except that a new sewer line will have to be run, since the sewer lines hadn't been replaced since 1928, and it's time).

This is the attic. It needs insulation and probably new windows, but again, it's a great space with only some minor work. When it's done, it will be a guest bedroom and small office area designed to hold a couple and a small child. My mother-in-law is taking the lead on decorating this space - stay tuned.

Remember how I said we're not doing anything major to the dining room? Or Rebecca's study? This gives you a sense of how much of the ground floor will be staying more or less as-is. (Photograph taken standing in the living room and looking through to Rebecca's bay window.)

This photograph is taken standing in Rebecca's office and looking through the dining room toward the living room bay window. Notice the pile of boards on the floor on the right side? That's trim that Rebecca managed to save during demolition, so that we can add back some of the original elements once we near the end of the renovation. Also, yes, a snow shovel! We had to buy one to clear the sidewalk. Since we've always rented before, we never needed one. Also great for picking up tiny chunks of plaster from the floor . . .

We're not in the beginning of this story, when the house was new and Detroit was booming. If this house could talk, I have a feeling she'd tell you that she belongs to the Club to Whom the Unimaginable is Now Imaginable - she's been through a lot.

But she's not done. She's not ruined. She was waiting for her story to pick up again. These photos prove that she's in the middle of the story and doesn't know her ending yet.

That reminds me: I'm not ruined either.

Chapstick & Chapped Lips & Things Like Victory: #fixerupperdetroit land bank update

My coffee table is covered in snacks. I've been biting my lips (even when liberally using good lip balm), binge eating carbs, and rubbing my face. I'm behind on all housework. I feel behind on our demolition. I woke up feeling like I've been hit by a bus.

And I don't have the energy left to do anything about any of those things.

I spent years teaching myself not to engage in the kind of emotional eating I did throughout adolescence and young adulthood. It felt so good to start eating when I was hungry and finding other ways to manage stress. I also trained myself not to rub my face - a nervous habit that I found strangely soothing but is unprofessional and unsanitary (the trick is to wear enough makeup that I'm afraid to smudge it, something that I cut back on once the habit was broken). I stopped biting my lips using much the same technique - a combo of lip balm, lipstick, and lip exfoliation.

But the amount of pressure we've been under lately caused me to take up a bunch of bad habits. Stopping myself took too much energy.

Good news, though: 

In making so much noise about the land bank, contacting people, explaining the situation, and so forth, they have decided to

officially close our case.

No additional paperwork. No awkward timeline. No risk that they will seize the property. No lawsuit. No legal fees.

They're moving on to other homes that actually need help.

My beautiful mess is free and clear for her makeover.

I guess that means I am too.

(As an aside, we still need help with a few demolition projects. If you have time tomorrow, please let me know.)

More pics: beautiful mess that is #fixerupperdetroit

My game face and awesome outfit before I tackled the fiberglass insulation on the ceiling of my office.

 I know some of you are worried about me doing all of these projects. I can't say that demo is my favorite way to spend the free time of an entire week, which is looking like what might happen, but here is what I keep reminding myself:

This is my beautiful mess.

This is the middle, not the end.

If the house were already perfect, I wouldn't have been able to afford it. 

Therefore, my house's imperfections are the reason I can live in a neighborhood that I absolutely love.



It doesn't make me love demolition, but it reminds me why I do it.

So here are more photos from today, I hope to help you understand the importance of this part of our journey.

This is the insulation that was covering this beautiful bead board. I ended up giving up and asking our contractor to finish taking it down because my skin was reacting so much to the chemicals, even with the getup in the above picture.

Imagine this ceiling without the paper and icky insulation. I think it will be lovely with the sun streaming in all those windows.

Remember the not-awful kitchen from the photo tour video a couple weeks ago? Please remember it. I don't want you to think all Detroit homes start in this state or require this level of rehab because . . . Yeah, now this looks like a scene straight out of Rehab Addict - gutted down to the studs and subfloor (well, almost down to the subfloor - if you want to help finish that off, please please please please let me know.)

Dumpstie (that's a dumpster selfie) - continuing to fill!

Demo Day Discoveries (Photo Notes)

On demo day, we wear plaid. (And a respirator, and safety glasses.)

I was going to write a post about all of our discoveries over the last few days, as we've dug deep into the process of demolition, but really, you have to see it to understand. So all I have for you tonight is a set of annotated photos.

My best attempt at a panoramic of the kitchen in its current state - almost gutted (floor tile, some wall plaster, and possibly a few more pieces need to come off the ceiling)

We were shocked to learn that they insulated the kitchen at some point!

From the bottom up: subfloor, original hardwood floor, plywood, concrete, tile. Yep, all piled onto the kitchen floor. At least we know the basement ceiling is strong.

Original phone nook? Rosary or crucifix display? Candle nook? We're not sure, but we found this in the kitchen.

That honey gold oak floor? Pretty sure that's original. Since the current budget doesn't allow for redoing floors, we're keeping the laminate you see on the right until the money is available, but this gives us hope.

Pewabic tile? Yes. Most houses built in Detroit in the 1920s feature it somewhere. Ours is in the entry. Welcome home!

The original galvanized iron sewer lines were still running from the second floor through the kitchen to the basement. My father-in-law deemed that unacceptable and removed them. A friend with a recycling business is going to take care of them so we don't have to landfill them.

A new lavatory is going in this location, since there currently isn't an entry-level bathroom.

Yep, that's shiplap! Joanna Gaines would be so excited.

Pretty sure the original hardwood is still on these stairs, but it's in rough shape, especially given the number of staples previous owners have put in to hold two different sets of carpet.

This is the awesome ceiling we uncovered above a popcorned ceiling and a bunch of insulation.

This is the same ceiling, but water-damaged. So we're into a salvage job that will involve patching.

Our dumpster is approaching 2/3 full. Most of my job on this demo has been to move pieces into it.

ed

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.

MI Love: Chosen Family

This posts is one of the drafts I've mentioned in past entries. I've considered the concept of chosen family for years. It's a messy idea without a clear definition, at least in my case. Most of the time, I just know who's going to be added, sometimes within the first few weeks of meeting someone. Sometimes, I guess wrong, and that hurts. But usually, finding a kindred spirit (to steal from Anne of Green Gables) is a great joy and comfort.

Signs someone might be chosen family:

1. You can call when stuff is bad

These are people who are allowed to see you in your jammies, or when your house is an absolute mess, or when all you can do is sit on the floor and sob. No judgment. No hesitation. They just show up.

They may clear some dishes while you work up the gumption to tell them what happened. They might just sit on the floor with you.

2. You can call when stuff is good

When you have good news, you know they won't rain on your parade, downplay accomplishments, try to "one-up" you, or be a joy kill when you're basking.

3. They can keep a secret

These people know that the slip of a lip could sink a ship, and they'll honor requests for confidentiality.

4. You could talk for hours

You know that thing where you look up and realize it's been two hours and you thought ten minutes had gone by? That's super likely to happy with chosen family. Plan accordingly.

5. They see you

They know something is wrong or exciting or frightening whether or not you've actually said it. Half the time, they know what you're thinking about it before you've said anything. And then . . .

6. They speak truth to you

Whether is sassing you because you need to hear it or simply sharing a story about what they've learned from a similar experience, these are people who tell you like it is. No agenda, no cliches. Sometimes you don't want to hear it. Sometimes it might not be quite right. But it is true for them and it's honest and open.

#househuntersdetroit Back Story

I realized that while some of you have heard the back story to our recent home purchase, many haven't. This mostly stems from the fact that I didn't share our home-buying journey on the blog until we were already several months in.

Regular readers and those who have had the [mis]fortune of hearing me tell stories in person know that I'm verbose. I like a lot of details. I feel that stories start further back than most people. So know that some of this won't seem related, but it fits in somehow in the mess that is my head.

Let me start by explaining that I'm cynical about the housing market. I came of age into the Recession - Rebecca and I graduated in 2009, into one of the worst job markets in recent history. We had just watched the housing crisis: foreclosures spiking and home prices plummeting. I didn't believe then (and still don't believe now) that a home is a good financial investment. It's not liquid, the price can fluctuate, and where does one live if the home is sold? The irony is that if we'd had stable income during the housing crisis, we could have purchased a home for a song. A great home. (The home we just closed on sold for about $10,000 in 2008. We paid several times that.) We might have felt differently about the housing market and homes as investments in that case. But home prices have been rising (and I'm mostly happy about that, really.)

So I kind of thought that if we ever bought a home, it would be a long time from now. Maybe after Rebecca finished residency, or when her loan forgiveness contract is up.

Men plan. God laughs.

Our church started the small group program/series Brave a little less than a year ago (as in, this time last year, I had no idea I'd be a homeowner now). For those of you unfamiliar with the general concept of a Protestant small group series, here's what usually happens: The leadership of the church identifies a Bible study or conversation that the body of the church would benefit from. People sign up in existing groups or form new groups (based on a number of factors including family status, availability, sexual orientation, etc). Then they meet, usually about once a week for maybe 4-8 weeks, to discuss the topic. Some studies are in a book. This particular study is free and uses an app. (While it isn't perfect by any means, it's one of the best of these I've done in a while.)

The Brave app starts with reflection and then asks a series of questions to help determine a heading. Rebecca and I both started with career-oriented headings. She wanted to find a way to live the principles of her faith more fully at work. I was wondering if my job at the time was the right fit. Neither one of us felt that our housing situation was on the table.

We were blessed to join an LGBT affirming group, which meant that many in attendance were gay, and all in our group took for granted that Rebecca and I are helpmates. As we moved through discussions with this wonderful group, we started seeing that subdividing our lives into personal, professional, housing, etc was inauthentic.

And then a friend starting posting about land bank auctions in Detroit. As I've mentioned before, Rebecca and I have dreamed for several years now about living in Detroit eventually. Key word: eventually. But some of the homes on the land bank open house list sounded lovely, and it was in the Boston-Edison historic neighborhood, and the weather was perfect that day, so a friend and I (Rebecca was working) went to view a few homes.

The first was amazing, stately, enormous - with a Pewabic tile fountain, grand staircase, everything I associate with a Detroit historic home. And it needed to be fully gutted and redone, Rehab Addict style. In other words, it fit the standard narrative of the Detroit housing market. So while I thought it was beautiful and hope that it gets the attention it deserves, it had no sway on my feelings about real estate.

One of the other homes we visited, though, was in much better shape. A lot of the issues appeared to be aesthetic; it was a much more manageable size, and had a really great floor plan. Oh, and a huge porch. I'm a sucker for huge porches.

Seriously, though. Can't you see yourself here?

I like big porches and I cannot lie. You other sisters can't deny, when a house comes up with a shaded place and a great big neighborhood in your face, you get love.

Yep, that's another porch off the back.

More than that, though, I saw us in it. I could see how we would use it, move through it, find joy in it. I didn't expect to feel that way. I didn't want to feel that way. But I told Rebecca about it. It resonated with her. So we started investigating.

It turned out that in our current situation, buying via the land bank wasn't financially prudent, for reasons I could explain in another post if anyone is interested (seriously, let me know, it's long and detailed and most people wouldn't care). This house was out.

And for a little while, I thought, well, we loved that house, but that feeling won't come from any other homes. It was just that one.

We kept thinking about it though. The thought, the dream kept rising up again. So we got a realtor, and got pre-approved for a mortgage, and selected some areas of the city we thought made sense. Yes, only the city. We didn't want to buy a home anywhere else. None of the suburbs, not out of state. Just Detroit. When we did a cost-benefit analysis, the decision to look in Detroit didn't make sense based on only the financial factors. But I've already explained that we don't view buying a home as a good financial investment. We view it as a place to live belong.

We viewed a few homes and then found one in the University District that instantly felt like home. (David, if you ever close, be prepared for my spook to chill in your Florida room forever.)

Don't even try to argue that it doesn't look like it's straight from a fairy tale.

This Florida Room may be the happiest place that actually exists for me.

See above note about porches.

More Florida room because happiness.

It was the right amount of fixer-upper and smaller and less grand than most homes there. (For real, University District is super elegant and amazing.) We put in an offer, which was rejected, so we looked at some other homes, put in an offer on a different one, which was also rejected, while sort of behind the scenes our realtor kept bargaining with the seller of the first.

(As an aside, HGTV REALLY needs to do a better job illustrating how difficult it can be to make an offer, get it accepted, and make it to close. Like, guys. You're not guaranteed a house just because you like it.)

Eventually, the seller came to a workable-ish agreement with our realtor, so we signed a purchase agreement near the end of June, putting our close date near the end of August. We had an inspection done, stuff started coming to light, we pulled public records, we went back and forth, and the process dragged out. At some point, we started realizing that something wasn't right. The seller seemed very reluctant to, well, sell. He was unresponsive, hadn't executed his portions of the purchase agreement, and our original timeline was shot. So with great sadness, not only for ourselves, but for the lovely home that would remain vacant and unmaintained, we gave up.

I would say this is an aside, but I've already inserted the disclaimer that very little seems like an aside to me - I happened to find out that a friend of a friend is buying this home. We were able to give him some of the documents that we'd paid to have drawn up. And while I doubt it would have felt like a waste anyway - we learned so much about buying a home and what was important to us - it definitely felt like there had been a purpose. Conversations with him have confirmed that this was not the right home for us, but it's comforting to know that someone is trying to close on it.

We gave up. And for a few days, I wanted to give up on the home search. Wait until we had more cash on hand, or Rebecca was done with residency. Until our schedules matched up better.

And then two friends needed to stay with us at the same time, and one of them couldn't and had to stay somewhere else, and I remembered why we were trying to buy a home in the first place. It was to be able to share our space, to host and love people, to put down roots somewhere. Once I realized that, giving up wasn't an option.

Our realtor started looking for more homes for us in earnest. We viewed several, put in an offer on one (it was rejected too), and then, one Sunday, we went to see something like five different homes (I made up a chart for everyone viewing each home to fill in, including the address, pertinent details, likes, and dislikes, because I was worried we couldn't keep them straight).

Miraculously, everyone agreed that of those homes, the one we ended up buying was the best. It was a remarkable find by our realtor - a floorplan that matches our lifestyle, enough space to grow but not enough to get lost in, in need of TLC but not a total gut-job, in a neighborhood we hadn't initially considered but came to realize was just right (we're not actually fancy or elegant enough for the University District) - and the rest is history that you can read on the blog already.

Since it's January 1st, I'll throw in a life lesson: a lot can happen in a year. I haven't even brought in the mold infestation, or the fact that my marriage is now considered valid in all 50 states (something I thought would have happened well before it did), or a bunch of other events.

If you are in pain or despair, hold on and know that in a year, things could be different. If you are experiencing joy, savor it, let it fill you, so that if things change this year, you have a beautiful memory to remind you that life has not always been sorrow. Very little in the future will be the same as now.

Here's to the end of 2015, and the start of a new mystery.