My dad was talking to some men who were putting trees in our front yard. They were all laughing at the area of Salt Lake City that we live in: Sugarhouse. Technically, we live in an area just outside of Sugarhouse called Wasatch Hollow, but Sugarhouse has come to describe the small groups of areas near Sugarhouse Park.
Sugarhouse in Spanish is una casa del azúcar--or, as these men suggested, a house of ill repute. Yep. That's where I live. In a whorehouse. Boom!
And I love it.
This house we recently bought had a lot of issues. Not all of them I feel comfortable vomiting online. Let's just say, it had issues and we remedied them. It took awhile. But, the bones of this little casa were amazing and the structure was solid. We absolutely adore the area and couldn't be more fortunate to have purchased exactly where we want to live.
When I first heard about this home, the older lady who owned it was leaving to a full care facility and her friend was acting as executor of the home. I asked this friend if I could come take a look at the home and she informed me that many people were interested and I could check it out on July 24. She then told me that it was under 2000 sq ft. Inwardly I scoffed. I have four kids. How on earth was I going to live in under 2000 sq ft with a family of six and most of them growing every second (I would like to be doing the opposite, but shrinking has proven more difficult than growing)?
I went to look at the house anyway, mostly out of consideration for this nice lady. I had zero expectation. The outside matched my hopes, it was a typical grandma house. The inside was pretty boring as well. It was all really tight spaces and holes in the ceilings.
I thought to myself (is that redundant? do you ever think to anyone other than yourself? really.), "What would I ever be able to do with this? It is hopeless." Then I went outside and saw the giant tree in the backyard. I thought, "Oh, I could do something with this."
I went downstairs where a house flipper was walking around with his general contractor. The contractor was talking about how great the bones of this home were. My eyes, as it were, opened and I saw the potential. I *might* have followed these gentleman around a bit as they looked at the home.
The flipper went outside and made an offer on the home. I walked home and immediately called Alan to tell him that I thought we should make an offer. He said, "Sure, do it. I trust you." Yeah, that's the kind of man I married.
Spoiler Alert: We got the house.
I know, you're shocked.
Unfortunately, our computer had a glitch and I lost the BEFORE before pictures. When there were curtains and carpets. But, not too big of a loss, because I still have these pictures.
Let's start with the kitchen area:
|looking south from the back door|
|looking west from the back door|
|looking west from the back door, walls coming down.|
|Looking north from the front door area in the dining room -- doorway leading into kitchen|
|Looking north into kitchen from dining room after wall is down.|
|looking east from the fireplace --wall of the kitchen area.|
|looking east from fireplace into dining room and front door|
|looking east from the fireplace INTO the kitchen area.|
Maggie wearing warmer weather clothing. What was that like? Seems like forever ago
|looking south-east into dining area from hallway to bedrooms|
|looking north from the front door|
|looking north west from the dining room|
|looking south--from the back door to the front door. Yes, I still have some touch-up paint to do.|
|from the fireplace, looking east. Oh, hi Bowie dog!|
What did I learn? Wait for the book.
Mostly that you have to be flexible, make changes on the fly, trust your gut (and don't listen to your male workers on style points. for real), be grateful for any and all help you can get, and stuff.
I had to change the kitchen layout plans about six times. Maybe more. I changed the cabinets twice, the counters three times and the size of the island on a whim towards the end. Whatever. I like it. It's a great place and I can't believe my good fortune.
There is a spot right by the sink (the dishwasher area, actually), where I can look out my east window and see Mt. Olympus and look out the west window and see the city below. It's kind of ridiculous.