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let me introduce myself to those of you who are strangers. I live in savannah, georgia
currently. I grew up in austin, texas, what I would consider one of the nicest places in the world. I had a normal,
nice, happy childhood with parents that loved each other and loved me a great deal. I was the 1st of 2 children, my
brother, jordan, was born 7 years after me, which I blame for our lack of communication and closeness. Everything was
just nice and normal, except for the fact that by the time I was in first grade I hit 5 foot 8 inches. I was a little
out of place. always. high school was a little rough; I had to get the hell out of there, so I took extra correspondence
classes on the side and graduated may 1996, one year early. thinking I would go away to boston for art school after
I'd saved money for a year, I attended community college and took some basics as well as some art courses. well, after
a year, my parents weren't willing to ship me off across the country and there I remained in austin, texas, where I furthered
my education for the next 4 years as a: photographer, studio artist, small business owner, jewelry designer and production
artist, and probably some other things I've forgotten about. so one day I up and married some guy I met at a bar, one
year to the day of our first date. about a year and a half ago, we decided, or I persuaded, lee, my husband, to move
to savannah, georgia. well, we'd seen the movie, read the book, looked up some real estate, so what's left but to take
a road trip? so we drove for 2 days, stopping the first night in, where else but, new orleans. we partied kind
of hard, (i.e. paying 14 dollars a drink in a transvestite strip bar). we had a good time, left a little hung over and
made our way out to savannah. and by the end of the week we'd bought a little victorian house in a bad neighborhood
and we were headed back to texas, but we had to spend one more night in, you guessed it, new orleans. 2 months later
we packed up all our belongings in a giant yellow van and me in my truck with 3 cats and 2 chickens and 2 enormous aquariums.
...so here
I am in savannah. or SLOWvannah as some certain residents refer to it. well, 6 months into living here and working
my fanny off at a nasty chain coffee shop, some people might call it starbucks, we sold the little victorian and bought, for
reasons we weren't quite sure of, an enormous run-down 1920s duplex. in a really really REALLY bad neighborhood.
we hauled loads of trash and nastiness out of it, began painting, and decorating, the newspaper came, the police questioned
my sanity for moving into such a dangerous area, we put out american flags and built a white picket fence. more people
bought up more of the old run-down houses, moved in, fixed the place up...it's getting better, but people are still shooting
guns off outside my house every friday night. soon there will be a link to the house website.
anyway.
I live here
now. in the middle of a restoration. exactly what I *dreamed* of doing 2 years ago. what they don't show
in books, magazines, television shows, etc, is that the people doing the restoration are filthy. we are sweaty, smelly,
aggrivated, have oil-based paint glopped in our hair, haven't shaved our legs in months, have sawdust in the bed, broken windows,
dirty kitchens, dirty floors, leaky pipes, cracked plaster walls that fall apart at the slightest poke, doors that won't shut
right, missing doorknobs, holes in the roof, holes in the ceiling, holes in the floor, dirty clothes, dirty feet, tools and
more tools on the mantle, on the floor, next to the bed, on the stove, in the sink, in the bathroom, things are held together
with ducktape. and. we spend twice as much as we budgeted for, find twice as many problems than the inspector
did, and spend twice as long working on projects than we intend to. where ever this glamour queen bullshit i'm restoring
this wonderful old house everything's white and pretty and *shabby chic*---argh if i hear shabby chic again i will gouge my
own eyes out and smear my bloody fingers all over rachell ashwell's pretty white on white with some pretty little bottles
over here on the pretty white mantle in the pretty pristine white room. GAWD! my point is, restoring a house is
nae glamorous nor is it pretty and white. soooooo...i love what we're doing, i love the house, but it's like i said--we
stink and there's sawdust in the bed.
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