For Sale or Barter

Sometimes I have to remind myself that reality TV isn't reality at all.

Note to self: If a trade on Craigslist seems to be too good to be true, it probably is.

I've entertained the idea of getting an old travel trailer. Not just a used trailer but an oldie, a classic. I don't even know if we would actually use it for camping or tailgating, but the thought of owning one is appealing. It could be a decorating project or a place for the kids to hang out with their friends. Part of the reason that we bought our house away from the covenants and restrictions of a HOA is so we can park whatever we want, wherever we want. Dave is worried that an old trailer in the driveway screams "redneck". I disagree. Who can't appreciate the nostalgia of an old Airstream? Plus, we've already got 4 cars in the driveway-including two classic convertibles-a landscape trailer, a go kart, and a collection of bikes and scooters. How much worse is a travel trailer?

I found an ad on Craigslist last week for a 1970 Airstream trailer for barter. Basically, with house renovations in full swing we can't spend any money on toys right now so the barter part of the deal was really appealing. Before I even called on the ad the kids were arguing over who would live in the trailer as their bedroom and what color the lights would be when we decorated it for Christmas.

"OMG Mom, Lily and I will even share a room if you let us sleep in the trailer. Then the boys can turn Lily's room into a man cave," Evelyn said.

I called on the trailer. It was still available. So Dave and I went to see it in Elberta, Alabama.

If you've ever pictured back-woods Alabama, Alberta is the heart of it. We pulled down a dirt road lined with dilapidated trailers, tractors rolling along to their own beat, and cars up on blocks in front yards. We joked about wishing we had brought a gun along, just in case we needed to use it. We pulled up to the address on the ad. The house and yard looked like something from the TV show Sanford and Son.

We got out of the truck and were greeted by a seemingly normal man named Rich. He was about 50, clean shaven, wearing blue jeans and wire glasses. Dave walked around the back of the house with him discussing the details of the trailer. I bent down as I got out of the truck and picked up a tiny kitten off the ground. He was orange and about 6 inches long. Two other kittens from the litter laid nearby, covered with tiny gnats. They weren't doing as well. I followed Dave's path to the trailer. The little kitten curled up in my arms and meowed like he had never been picked up before-he probably hadn't. Rich looked normal but clearly couldn't be.

After a walk around the property discussing what Rich was looking for in trade for the trailer, we left with a good feeling. The Airstream was in much better shape than we had expected it to be and Rich seemed motivated to make a deal. We happened to have a couple of the things he was looking for including a dirt bike and firearms. He also wanted a riding mower or cash. Cash was out of the question. On Barter Kings, (Have you seen that show on TV?), they never bring cash to the trade.

The story goes on, and after a dozen emails and phone calls between Dave and Rich we didn't end up with the Airstream trailer. It seemed that no matter what we offered Rich was never satisfied enough to seal the deal-firearms, a dirt bike, even a 2010 riding lawn mower! I guess there is a reason that his yard looks the way it does-he never gets rid of anything. Perhaps the only visitors he gets in Elberta, Alabama are Craigslisters. I think he likes the attention.

I still want a vintage Airstream. Eventually I'll find one for the right price, or trade. On Barter kings they always make the deals happen. I guess in real life it doesn't work that way. For now I have to figure out what to do with the slightly used riding mower that's outside? We bought it hoping to trade it for the trailer. If we leave it sitting in the driveway people might just think we're rednecks.

The vintage Airstream trailer that was almost ours...sort of.

Did I Catch You At a Good Time?

I think Dave and the editor of This Old House magazine are working together.

Yesterday, I stared at the walls and cabinets in the kitchen/dining room for hours moving from seat to seat examining the space from every angle. The wheels in my head were turning. In between reading Lego stories to Davison, who spent quite a bit of time sitting on my lap, I referred to copies of my favorite magazines for design inspiration.

Finally, the layout started coming together in my head and a plan formulated. However, there was one problem. I had to remove a 6 foot section of cabinet and counter top that was breaking up the space and distracting me. I grabbed the circular saw, lined up the blade with the top of the counter, and heard Dave's car pull into the driveway.

"I'm busted," I thought.

Dave walked around the corner wearing his flight suit and heavy flight boots. He and looked at me with a curious smile. I smiled back saw-in-hand, kissed him hello, and said,

"Did a little birdie tell you to hurry home because your wife was about to cut stuff apart in the kitchen?"  I asked.

After giving him a brief summary of my plan, the phone rang.  It was This Old House magazine. The editor started off the call by stating that I didn't win the Reader Remodel Contest. (Bummer, no new truck for me.) Then he explained that some notable stories are being mentioned in the July "Reveal Issue" and ours is one of them.

"You're a military family that has moved 12 times in 18 years and just bought your forever home, right?" He asked.

"Yes, that's us," I answered.

"Did I catch you at a good time?"

My thought at that point was that there is never a good time for a mother of 7 kids to talk on the phone. As soon as the headset hits my ear all hell breaks loose in the house.

"It's as good of a time as any," I answered. "My husband is probably pretty happy that you just called because I was about to attack the kitchen counters with a circular saw when the phone rang." 

It only made sense that they were working together. The magazine dialed me to offer a distraction so Dave could take over the demolition-the right way.

He started laughing; really, really laughing. In between laughs, and breaths, he said,

"What did you say?"

"Oh, I'm not kidding," I answered. "I was just about to cut apart the kitchen counters to move some cabinets when my husband pulled into the driveway from work. Then the phone rang. Now I am out here talking to you while my husband is on his back on the kitchen floor half way in a cabinet trying to figure out if I am going to chop through any electrical. He is still in his uniform so only his boots are sticking out. Some stay at home mothers cook in the kitchen. That's not me."

He asked me some general questions about the house and our many moves over the past 18 years in the Navy. He wanted to know what the kids said when they saw the house for the first time.

"They thought it was disgusting," I told him.

Then we hung up.

The phone call stalled me long enough for Dave to spend some time alone in kitchen, making sense of the newly proposed layout.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Dave asked.

Believe it or not, he is a little more cautious than I am.

I gave him the look that means less talking, more cutting. He took over; under my direction of course. And the kitchen renovation began. As the walls came down and cabinets found new spaces in the room, things started coming together. We make a good team. Here are pictures of the progress.

The closed-up kitchen just days after we moved in.
In great shape but in need of updating.

The space is now opened up and bright. (Blurry picture, sorry.)
Of course we still have to upgrade everything but at least the layout is coming together.
The glowing white light at the far back is a window that will soon be a slider.

I Don't Know Where to Start

So much has happened in the past two months. There are so many blog-worthy stories to share! Our move to Florida, the kids' transition into another school system, our house renovation-we've been busy. In a nutshell:

• We moved from Virginia to Florida in late January. Saying goodbye to our friends in VA was very hard. Nobody had it harder than Austin though. He had to leave Abby-the love of his 16 year life-behind in VA. However, their long-distance relationship is going strong. Abby will be here for a visit in one week.
• Austin got his driver's license, and another "new" car. Apparently the Chevelle was just a stepping stone. The newest ride? A 1970 Buick Electra convertible with a 455. It should be delivered any day.
• Dave and I started the Atkins Diet the day after the new year and have both lost about 23 lbs. 
• After a delayed closing on our new house we are moved in and the house is under complete and total renovation. I have been taking lots of pictures of the projects but haven't actually posted them. I have great shots to share of the before and afters. Projects so far include:
• All new exterior paint
• Craftsman style front door, sidelight and hardware as well as window shutters
• A newly refinished front porch decorated with vintage furnishings and a nautical theme
• Added a front walkway to the door
• Three new bedrooms and a killer 22'X12' mudroom with built-in lockers
• New interior carpet, paint and wall colors
• An enormous new in-ground swimming pool in the back yard

If it's OK I am going to forget that I have been MIA for about two months. (Sorry about that.) And I am going to start off fresh. I'm happy to be back!

Davison posing with the deep end of our new in-ground swimming pool. Even the yard is under construction.

What color is your house?

We have spent our first few days back in Pensacola catching up with old friends, visiting the resturants that we missed and getting ready to move into our house. If all goes well we should finally be closing later today.

The kids were less than impressed with our new house. Rowan threw his arms up, looked around and declared, "This is disgusting". I assured him that the first thing on our to-do list was to paint the board and batten exterior an acceptable color-something different than dark aqua green which currently covers every inch of the house from the roof to the ground including trim, window frames, gutters and the foundation-and there would be no bugs in his room by the time he has to sleep in it. The rest of the day was spent formulating a plan for the whirlwind of renovations that needed to start immediately.

I have spent as much time in the past few weeks searching for the perfect exterior paint color as I have folding laundry-which is a lot of time. We finally decided on a craftsman theme of dark mocha with creme trim, a perfect compliment to the brown window frames on the existing house. (Imagine how that looks with the current aqua?!) We thought the decision had been made until we looked at rhe house next door, one that we hadn't paid too much attention to before, and saw tan and white siding. Of course the plans for our house would put it in another class from that one when we were done working our magic, however, I didn't want to be accused of being a copycat. It was back to the drawing board.
In a paniced call to my mother earlier that morning asking for ideas and inspiration for what all-of-a-sudden felt like the biggest decision of my life, she assured me that I couldn't go wrong with green-which has always been my favorite color. Thankfully we happened to stop at a nearby park to let the kids run off some steam and that's where we found the perfect exterior color. Across the street stood a beautiful two story federalist home with columns around the beautiful southern style porch. There were two cars in the driveway, a sign that someone was home.

"I'll be right back," I said to Dave.

Certainly someone with such a beautiful home would know her colors-or the number of the designer who chose them. (It was that kind of neighborhood.)

I walked confidently up the stairs to the door and knocked.

"I am so sorry to bother you but your house is beautiful and I just have to know the colors," I said.

I assured the woman at the door, who appeared to be in her late 60's, that our new house was in desperate need of a makeover. If she didn't mind I wanted to copy her paint colors. So much for not being a copycat huh. She asked me to wait a minute while she checked her file and came back with a neatly printed card that said Avacado Green, Dark Night and Nacre. She wished me luck with the move. I thanked her from the bottom of my heart. We loaded up the kids from their trip to the park and headed straight to Sherwin-Williams.

A Warm Welcome

We're packed up and on the road again. Stopping for the night in Jacksonville was the best last-minute plan we could have made, offering so much more than simply a place to rest our heads.

The night before we left VA was filled with tears. Excitement about the pending move turned to fear. Saying goodbye became reality. I offered words of encouragement saying just about anything to ease the pain that the kids were feeling-you'll make so many new friends, our house is across the street from the beach, we'll never move again (I hope). And then I explained what I see as the greatest benefit of being a military family. Being transient offers the blessing of having dear friends in every corner of the country-and world- who welcome you with open arms despite months, even years, and miles of seperation. My friend Lisa's words below taken from a Facebook post from this morning are a testament to just how special this is. (fyi..The gator she refers to was a big rubber alligator that she hid under our pillow with a note, "Welcome to Florida." I'll get her back.)

"So there was a Dermody sighting in Florida...w/ gator, dog, scared kitty hiding in the garage, crab, 6 kids and two crazy big kids, lugging it all cross-country again! It was a sweet bday surprise from Jennifer Georges Dermody and Dave Dermody to me and as with all our friends, the door is always open...even if we're not here. But something else is confirmed in me again...the hope that in moving, all will turn out well again. And as the worn, and traveled-weary group trooped in last night in search of sleep and food and drink, hurting from leaving great people, they too were reminded that the world is small and the good one's you'll always see again. I saw it in the magnetic hugs our boys had to be pried apart with this morning and in the uber-silliness of the girls jumping back into old BFF land...the quick sharing of yearbooks from Sigonella and old family photos...family, because our military friends are our family. Glad we could ease the pain...and the best is yet ahead for you! Much ♥...Lisa."

Thank you Lisa. I hope you have a wonderful 40th birthday today. I love you friend!

Florida or Bust

At this very moment I am crammed in the passenger's seat of my Suburban. My iPad is strategically propped on top of the pile of junk on my lap which includes a bag of Legos, stuffed animals and books, the snack bag filled with string cheese and Pringles and my beautiful leather tote bag filled with paint color chips, floorplan designs and closing documents. I get to sit with all the extra bags-the ones that no kids want to deal with. We are on a road trip. Well, it feels like a road trip but it is actually a PCS move. For the non-military folks out there that stands for Permanent Change of Station. We're headed to our new assignment in Florida's Sunny Gulf Coast.

We left early this morning with grand plans-to do the entire drive in one day-all 17 hours of it. The combination of getting a late start and realizing after the first 20 minutes of the ride that the littlest kids were going to drive us completely crazy asking "how much longer?", there was no way we could pull that off. So, while I got a half hour of sleep under this pile of crap on my lap, Dave called our friends in Jacksonville, FL and asked if they minded company. Lisa, my dear friend from our tour in Italy and fellow Navy spouse, who happens to be the best hostess ever, replied with some version of "you need a comfortable place to rest your heads and a good meal. We'll wait up for you." Anyone who would welcome a family of nine at a moment's notice, along with their dog, cat and hermit crab is a saint. Lisa certainly fits into that category. (Dave did mention the pets Lisa...didn't he?)

I had a few minutes between bathroom breaks, a blown tire in NC, and stopping for gas to check email and Facebook. A friend posted on my page, "I can't wait to read your first update when you get settled." That got me thinking and then motivated to write about our adventure-moving a family of nine half way across the country yet again, buying and renovating what I hope is going to be our forever house and integrating our crazy, big, spirited, loving, athletic, smart, beautiful, family into the beachside community that we will soon call home. This is a pretty exciting time for the family. Until tomorrow, ciao.

Not Sure if I Should Be Ashamed or Proud

I cleaned up the mess from opening Christmas presents in record time this year. I think it was partly because of my new method. Santa left his gifts in the family room, while all of the nicely wrapped presents from Mom and Dad waited in my nice room. Surprisingly, opening presents in two different rooms did not create double the mess, it made managing the miles and miles of ribbon and wrapping paper manageable.

A couple of days after Christmas was trash and recycling day. It might seem strange but I love piling the trash and buckets of bottles, old newspapers and food packaging by the curb every week. Every time I get rid of stuff-donations to the thrift store, garbage, recycling-I feel like a little weight is lifted. Of course I just fill the space with more stuff, but purging still feels good.

I dragged the two cans from the side of the house to the street. On the left was our garbage can. It was light. and easy to move. The handle is broken off so we rigged it with an old dog leash-which actually makes it easier to pull-but looks really pathetic. The recycling bin was really heavy, and overflowing with paper. I placed it toward the right side so that there would be enough room for the rest of the pile which was stashed in the landscape trailer that we keep in our driveway. The HOA hates us for it because it's ugly-but we don't pay too much attention to the notes they leave on our door. 

As I lugged bag after bag of used wrapping paper, perfectly stacked Barbie and Fisher Price boxes neatly bound with string, and electronics's Styrofoam packaging to the curb, I created a neat and organized pile-well mountain-of recyclable waste. It was beautiful I thought, especially in comparison to the single, lowly can of trash next to it that would undoubtedly sit in a landfill for the next hundreds or thousands of years. I was proud of my dedication to recycling instead of discarding recyclable materials as trash. Then I started thinking about what other people would think about my pile. Would they see it as an accomplishment or a failure? Should I be proud of the huge pile of recycling that I saved from the landfill? Or should I be ashamed by the amount of waste my huge family creates every Christmas?

I have more to say-and a picture of the pile-but it is so late I have to sleep. I will write the rest tomorrow. Good night.