Down Come The Walls

I’m not one of those HGTV homebuyers who wants everything perfect at the onset. Each of the houses I’ve purchased has needed work. None were falling down, but all had design changes I wanted to make, as well as updates that would change the function of the house, make it more livable.

When I looked at The Coming Home House, the furnishings were very definitely not my style, paint colors were not choices I would have made and the kitchen and bathrooms, which had likely last been updated in the 1990s were in need of updates. But what I saw beyond the cosmetics was good. Walls and ceilings were in good shape without large cracks or sags, the roof was newer and in good condition, the HVAC was relatively new and seemed to be in good shape, and the floors were in excellent condition without any staining or significant sways or unevenness. The way I saw it, The Coming Home House had good bones.

I made my offer to the seller contingent upon a home inspection. The inspection turned up very little except for some minor fixes which the seller took care of and a slight grading problem (easily fixable). I moved in pretty sure that all was in good shape, but also aware that problems could be hidden behind the walls. In a house that was almost sixty years old, I felt certain that I would find some problems here and there, but generally I was optimistic.

Significant changes were needed with
drain lines and line venting. Fortunately,
 it was the only significant problem
 we found.

From the get-go it was clear that there were likely some plumbing issues that needed attention. The toilets in the house didn’t always flush properly and the water pressure in the kitchen was very low, particularly relative to the bathrooms and laundry room sinks. I feared, based on the age of the house, that water supply lines were galvanized metal rather than copper.  Could that, I wondered, be the reason the water pressure in the kitchen was so low? Was there a run of corroded galvanized supply line impeding the water’s flow? Or was it a different problem altogether?

I knew that once demolition began, any problems would show up. No matter how many times you remodel or rehab, you don’t truly know what you’re getting into until you start opening walls. Sometimes, as in my first house when we found signed (by the workers) raw plaster walls under three layers of wallpaper, the things you find are fun and interesting. Other times, they leave you scratching your head. What you hope for most is that you don’t find anything that tells you that there are systemic problems in the house because of shortcuts or other knucklehead moves previous contractors made. So when demolition began, I held my breath.

When drywall was pulled from exterior walls
it exposed that there truly was no insulation.
.

For those who may have been hoping I’d hold my breath until I stopped breathing, no such luck. So far, other than the expected plumbing problems – which were by no means small either in physical or monetary scope – the demolition turned up little in the way of problems. It did, however, expose some interesting things about my house.

Drywall with a skim coat of plaster
over metal lath. Not easy to
 cut through!

I'd heard from neighbors there was little in the way of insulation in the exterior walls of the house. Little apparently meant none. The cinder block exterior walls were covered on the outside with a brick or stone veneer (different things in different places) and on the inside were furring strips onto which a drywall/plaster combination layer has been affixed.  This type of construction, including the lack of insulation, was not uncommon in a house of this type and this age.

The house's interior wood frame walls are covered with a drywall/plaster combination as well. Taking walls out was quite a process as lying on top of the drywall is a metal lath onto which the plaster was laid. Cutting through the lath was not as easy a process as either drywall alone or plaster on top of a wood lath would have been; it had to be sawed through and several times sparked enough to make everyone stop and take serious notice. The plaster, which we found in depths varying between 1/4" and 1/2" was generous in the amount of dust it gave out when pulled down, in part because the lath had to be sawed through and kicked around the plaster dust.  (Ah yes, dust. Part of construction. On some projects more than others. Yes, dust. A later post.)

At first you feel like demolition will
be orderly and neat . . . .

The door framing in my house is unusual in that there is no face trim. The actual door frames are mounted in such a way that the walls "surround" them rather than the frame being laid on top. As such, you can't remove a door frame without seriously damaging the walls. And retrofitting new doors into existing walls is not easy either. Finally, the outside corner beads on the doors are slightly beveled rather than a hard 90° or a curve. All in all, the doors, while they look incredibly simple are proving to be quite intricate and vexing to the contractor. I'll talk more about doors in a later post.

....and then reality sets in.

Demolition is actually a small part of remodeling and rehab and it leaves your house a mess, but it leads the way to the next step. No matter how difficult it feels, I guarantee you, it's not the worst part of the process.  That is yet to come.  That said, with it done, it is now time to move to the next step . . . putting it back together again, but the way I want it!

The Backstory on Finding That I Love Remodeling and Rehabbing

NOTE: Please forgive the long delay in between postings. There have been some "issues," some technical, some less technical to which I've been attending.

Before going directly into demolition, allow me to give a bit of the backstory on how I came to this point in my remodeling life.

The Coming Home House is not the first house in which I’ve done a lot of work.

My first house, which I owned with my ex-husband, was a 1911 classic American Foursquare. In the almost eight years we lived in the house, there was not a room we didn’t touch. The first thing we did was to pull up 1970s orange shag carpet and nailed down linoleum floors to expose original and beautiful pine and oak picture frame wooden floors. We finished the third floor and turned it into a family room/office combination with wide plank ash floors, built in desk and media center, as well as its own heating and cooling system. In the front hall, we stripped alligatored shellac off a gorgeous quarter-sawn oak staircase and refinished it. Opening directly into the dining room was a ridiculously small full bathroom (with a bathtub even my two year old could barely fit into). So as to make dinner parties much more comfortable, we moved the entrance from the dining room and divided the space, turning it into a powder room and a needed front hall closet. We added a fence, painted the exterior of the house and, last, we gutted and redid a cavernous kitchen.

When we moved from House #1 in search of a second full bathroom for our growing family, we moved into a completely different type of house. House #2 was a 1987 center hall colonial that we bought from its original owners. When we bought it in late 2000, it came with all its original parts. The kitchen and both bathrooms came with identical builder’s grade cherry cabinetry, and every piece of wood trim in the house was painted the identical color, that of the BandAids in a box that has been sitting in the medicine cabinet for 10 years. Before even moving into that house, we pulled down extensive wallpaper and painted almost every room. I thought, foolishly I retrospectively understood, that would be enough. Shortly after moving in, I realized the kitchen was not a “cook’s kitchen,” but rather one that had been designed by a builder using the formulaic work triangle. Yes, the three main stations – the cooktop and oven, the sink and the refrigerator – were in the right places, but nothing else in the kitchen was where it should be and it functioned poorly. So began the work on House #2.

Before finishing, we’d gutted and redone the kitchen, redone the master bath and moved the laundry room from the first floor to the master bath. The second bathroom on the upper floor got a full redo, and the powder room and mud room got the same treatment. We'd moved a large closet and created a wet bar, and, finally, completely finished the basement, including adding a large wet bar area, a guest bedroom and a full bath. We had added windows here and there, replaced windows here and there, pulled up carpet and replaced it with wood floors, moved interior doors and more. Fairly extensive landscaping was also in the mix.

My time in those two houses told me that I loved remodeling and rehabbing, and it also, sadly, brought the end of my more than twenty year marriage. It was time to breathe deeply and move on.

Closing on The Coming Home House was emotional. Not only would this house bring me back to my hometown, but Chicago and I had each changed a great deal since I’d last lived there. I was now the divorced mom of two amazing young men who would shortly make me an empty nester. This also was the house I intended to make my last house and I would live here by myself except for those times my sons came for extended stays. Finally, since leaving Chicago, both my parents had passed away and coming back to live without their physical presence in town meant that the rhythm of my life in Chicago would be greatly altered from what it been twenty-three years earlier. As I walked out of the closing with my attorney and drove to my new house, I had no one with whom to share the excitement. It was bittersweet moment. 

After closing, I walked silently through the now empty house, checking each room, each system, making sure each was in the same good shape as it had been at my final walk-through the night before. After surveying the whole house, I unloaded my car of the things I’d brought for those first several days: a coffee pot, clothing and toiletries, some bath and bed linens, cleaning supplies, a few dishes and a bottle of good red wine. A new bed was coming that afternoon. My plan was to pretty much camp out in my house those first two weeks and decide on my next step. Later that afternoon a dear friend arrived with a bottle of Prosecco that we used to toast my new life. It made the day a whole lot more sweet and much less bitter. That night, tired, I fell into bed and slept deeply.

Those first two weeks I spent doing a lot of standing and staring. One day a friend dropped by and found me standing in my front yard just staring at my house. I’d been there long enough that I’m sure the neighbors had already begun to comment on their new neighbor, the crazy woman who liked to stand in her front yard. I explained to my friend that I was just trying to take it all in, figure out what to do and when. And eventually I did that. By the end of those two weeks, I not only had a plan, but a sort of mission statement. I knew the many things I wanted to do and in what order, but underlying every decision I would make was a desire on my part to be respectful of the architecture and style of the house while simultaneously making the house livable for 2014 and beyond.

What specific things did I want to do? Here’s the list:

•  Pull the nasty carpet on the front porch up, clean and seal the concrete.
• Clean up the garden and then do some pretty extensive landscaping (including hardscape changes).
• Paint, inside and out.
• Change and enhance outdoor lighting including changing all current fixtures.
• Pull the cracked and discolored vinyl siding and replace it with something more appropriate to the age of the house.
• Figure out how to get the many tennis ball dents out of the garage door without completely replacing it.
• Remove or replace the front door storm door.
• Replace the front door . . . or make changes to it.
• Remove current rusted window blinds in the bedrooms and replace them. Find and install window coverings in the living/dining room.
• Replace the dining room chandelier.
• And the list goes on . . .  and on . . .  and on and on.

So in addition to the substantial changes I wanted to make in the bedrooms, bathrooms and kitchen, I had a whole host of other things I needed and wanted to get to. My plan included extensive demolition and construction. I’d been there before and I was ready to begin again, ready to begin on a new house and new life.

The First Steps to the Remodel

When closing day came the end of August, 2014, I wasn’t completely sure how I was going to proceed with the house. My youngest son was still in high school and had two more years to complete before I was ready to move from Ohio completely. I wasn’t sure I wanted to start working on the house right away or if I wanted to wait until later. I knew that at least for the next two years I would be able to live in the house no more than two weeks a month.  Did I want to work on the house, or did I want to do something like rent it out until a later date?

Conventional wisdom says that it’s always a good idea to live in a house for a while before doing any work on it. Actually spending time in a house allows you time to see how the house “lives,” where there are hot spots, cold spots, which spaces feel unused, too tight, or limit you in one way or another. This is especially important advice if you’ve never before owned a house, and even more important if you’ve never done any renovations.  I knew I could accomplish this process pretty quickly because I’d been through substantial remodeling on both of my previous two houses. I had a very good idea of how houses are built, what can and cannot be done, the pitfalls of construction and more. 

Went to this!

This overgrown mess . . . 

Before I could decide whether to either rent the house out or start working on it, I needed to let my neighbors know that I would do my best to be a good neighbor, and so the first thing I decided to tackle was the severely overgrown garden. It was summer’s end so I started with cleaning up the overgrowth. After about four hours of working by myself and getting an area that measured approximately six feet by six feet done, I knew that I’d never get the whole lot done before I had to head back to Ohio if I didn't get some help. I made a phone call and had McAdam Landscaping, a company owned by friends, come out to do the cleanup. It was worth every penny and, I reasoned, that after this step I’d be able to keep up with it myself.

After getting the mess in my yard cleaned up, I turned my attention to the inside. Before I had ever made an offer on the house, I knew I would want to reconfigure the bedroom and bathroom layout to create a real master bedroom with ensuite bath. I liked the idea of having a bit more privacy for those times when my sons were there, or if I had houseguests.

Original bedroom/bathroom area layout

The area was configured with two bathroom entry doors about five feet away from one another and a large linen closet in a small hallway off the main hall. It felt awkward and busy and every single person who walked in immediately asked why the two bathroom doors were right next to one another. What is listed in the graphic at right as Bedroom #2 was the largest and, thus, was considered the master bedroom. Yes, I knew before even buying the house that I would be changing this configuation!

I knew also that I would remodel the kitchen. The living room and dining room are one and the kitchen, right off that space, would function beautifully as an integral part of that space by removing the wall between them an opening the kitchen to them. Not only would it make it a more intimate space for entertaining, but it would add to the kitchen some of the beautiful light that pours in the huge windows in the living/dining room.

Finally, I knew, although with a less refined vision, that I would redo the main space in the basement.

After spending those first two weeks in the house, I was very sure I wasn’t interested in renting the house out: I wanted to get started on my house. I knew that "now" was the time!

And so . . . I contacted a contractor.  Before my contractor David and I first met, I honed my vision of what I wanted to do and how. By the time he and I sat down, I had already decided on how I wanted to redesign the bedroom/bathroom end of the house, and I was far down the path of deciding how I wanted to remodel the kitchen. David could see that I had clear vision, understood the process, had clear ideas of the finishes I planned, and was good and organized (I believe he may have seen a tad bit of obsession!), all which he felt would work well in our collaboration. David and I decided to move ahead on phase one, the bedroom and bath space. We agreed we'd do the kitchen later.

Bedroom/bathroom layout after remodeling.

There are few major wall changes in the new space, but those that are going to be made will have a substantial impact on how the space functions. The master bedroom has been moved across the hall. I've captured additional space in that room from the closet of the room and the closet of the adjoining room. What was the hall linen closet will be removed and the hallway closed off. That space will now be a walk-in closet, accessible from the master bedroom. You'll now enter the master bathroom through the closet space. The bathroom layout will be tweaked to accomodate additional closet wall space and a slightly larger shower. The second bathroom will now open onto the main hallway. To do this, we will need to move the sink to where the entry door once was. Now, while the room will still have a shower, it will have more a feel of a guest powder room. Finally, since I'll lose the closet in the old master bedroom, I will be adding a free standing closet system, most likely the PAX system from IKEA.

Next post . . . . construction begins!

The Search for the Right House

When you look for a house, you generally have a list of criteria that the house must meet. You probably have a budget, a general idea of location and size. You may want a new house, or maybe an older house would suit you more. Maybe there’s a particular style house you’ve always dreamed of. Every person’s list is different and, mostly, every house is different. It’s all a matter of finding the one you love.

The wildly overgrown garden at The Coming Home House that
will require a great deal of attention.

Before I began my search I sat down and considered what I wanted. I had a budget and knew the general location I wanted. Because I was originally from Chicago I was pretty familiar with the many communities in the area. After spending some days refreshing my memories (and in some cases, changing my impressions!) I was able to narrow my initial search to two towns. I wanted at least three bedrooms, one for me and two for my sons just in case they came home for a while. I also knew that I wanted something that wasn’t “perfect.” I have chronic “renovation-itis” and knew I needed something I could turn into my own, put my signature on. Finally, I was pretty sure I wanted a house that would afford one level living. I’m old enough to believe that the house I bought would be my last one before they would have to wheel me off to the nursing home, and so I wanted a house that would allow me to age gracefully.

Armed with my list, I began my search. To be honest, because I had plenty of time before I absolutely had to find a house, I assumed I’d spend as much as a year or more finding the right home. In fact, I told my realtor that after six to eight months of unsuccessful looking, I was prepared to expand my search to several other communities.

The kitchen, before. Pickled wood cabinets that need
repair.

To my surprise, right away I found houses that looked good, even possible, but nothing that truly “spoke” to me. I saw one house I loved, but it had no basement, which I then realized was something I really wanted. The house was priced too high, to boot. The “cosmetics” were right, but I decided to wait and keep looking.

Then my realtor took me to The Coming Home House. At first glance, it had many strikes against it. It was at the very top end of my budget and from the outside, it didn’t excite me. The front steps were covered with fraying and dirty outdoor carpet, the garden was wildly overgrown, the vinyl siding was dirty and had holes in it, the garage door dented, and the front door desperately needed to meet up with a can of paint.

The master bathroom, before.

Once inside my initial impression didn’t improve much. The front hall and combination living/dining room were populated with a mix of country and Victorian furnishings which did nothing to highlight the style of the house, plus an overstuffed behemoth of a sofa, the looks of which made it quite clear the family who’d lived there had pets. The pickled kitchen cabinets screamed 1990, especially in contrast to the bile gold walls. The three bedrooms continued the impression. In one we found more country furniture, in another miles of double-stick foam tape holding up posters of Chicago sports celebrities, and in the last, a combination of paint colors that wasn't at all my style.

The big, kitschy bar in the basement.
Will it survive renovation?

The bathrooms, like the kitchen, had clearly been renovated in the 1990s. They seemed “livable,” and appeared to need only a coat of paint on the walls, but as I stood there I felt a slight case of vertigo coming on. I soon realized that every towel bar, every light fixture, every outlet and every light switch were slightly askew and loose. Had a drunken contractor installed them all?

In the basement, we found a huge living space with walls covered in 1970s fake wood paneling and newer carpet that, unfortunately, confirmed there had indeed been pets. In one corner of the room was a huge, kitschy bar, complete with deep brown naugahyde-covered edges, and equally huge matching swiveling bar chairs. Could I play up the kitsch and turn it into a party room akin to those in which I’d spent so many of my teen years? Hmmm….the possibilities! Tucked in the back of the basement was, I was happy to see, a recently renovated bathroom, complete with a huge shower, and a beautiful, big and bright laundry room.

The living/dining room, before. I was taken with the
big windows, the floor to ceiling fireplace, and
the beautiful wood floors.

Yes, this was a fixer upper, but it was livable and had good flow. Once I looked past the incongruous furnishings, I saw huge beautiful windows and charming coved ceilings in the living/dining room. The wooden floors were pristine and all the rooms were nicely sized. The kitchen was huge and I could immediately imagine how amazing it would be to open it to the living/dining room. There was a gorgeous floor to ceiling wood-burning stone-covered fireplace in the living room, and another down in the basement, just as I had hoped to find. And in the front hall the 1950s deep green and red slate floors and period stone wall caught my attention and my heart. The lot, while overgrown and in need of some serious gardening, was large enough to imagine a dog romping in the backyard and small enough that I knew I’d be able to maintain it on my own. Finally, there was an enormous attached garage. I loved the house and I loved the neighborhood.

The stone wall and beautful slate floors are lovely.

It didn’t have great curb appeal and there was no great staging, but the house was speaking to me, urging me to make it my own. And so I made an offer.

Before my offer had been accepted I was busy planning how I was going to put my signature on it, chomping at the bit to open my first can of paint! Yes, my adventure with The Coming Home House was about to begin!

Starting Again

If you’d asked me in 1993, the year I bought my first house, if I’d ever consider living in a ranch house, I’d have laughed at such a ridiculous notion.  Twenty-two years later I have one that stole my heart about six months ago.

I’m originally from a suburb of Chicago and since 1993 I’ve lived in Ohio. Since moving here, I have lived in two houses. The first house was a 1911 classic American Foursquare and the second, a real departure from a vintage house, was a 1987 center hall colonial in a typical middle-America subdivision.  Both houses were ripe for renovation and I did it eagerly and happily, completely gutting and redoing two kitchens and four bathrooms. I’ve added wood floors here and there, finished a basement, added a bathroom, and more. Over the years I’ve fed my love of design with these two houses and have lovingly turned them each from house to home for my most important life venture, my two wonderful sons.

Five years ago my husband and I separated. Since then, my eldest son has moved on to college, my youngest one has grown from a tween to a teen, and last May my divorce became final. Life has changed and the years have brought incredible joy and also moments of terrific pain.

When we moved to Ohio I never imagined that after more than twenty years here I would still be itching to go back to Chicago to live. When my kids were young my home was wherever they were and it largely still is, but there hasn’t been a day since leaving Chicago that I haven’t felt it pulling me back.

When my divorce became final I realized that when my youngest son graduated from high school and went on to college that I would be able to move back to Chicago where my closest friends and family members were. Over the years I’d traveled back “home” many times and each time I did, I felt that Chicago was where I wanted to be.

When I calculated how long it would be until my youngest would be going off to college I realized that I could start looking for someplace to live in the Chicago area sooner than later. I knew myself well enough to know that I would doing renovations on whatever I found and so, I reasoned, I could begin my transition back to my hometown by purchasing and renovating a house.

That is what I am doing and here is where I’m going to share that journey with you.  This time, it’s a pretty typical 1958 ranch house in a suburb west of the city and it needs work pretty much from top to bottom.  I hope you’ll enjoy watching this house become a home, my “Coming Home House.”