I know, I know...I have left you hanging. The Soap Opera that life has become is just wearing me OUT. Alright, so Friday the real estate comes here and tells me that I need to do X,Y & Z to pretty up the place, which means that there be some removal of STUFF. Any of you that have been here, know that we have been doing cottage living with a fiber business. This can get out of control, easily. BLUSH. We have some people coming to give us an estimate on painting the outside, something that it needed anyway but now we need to stop looking like an artist's house and more like a place where a non artist could see themselves. I heave a deep sigh but know that not everyone sees the world with my color sense. (what's wrong with a teal/blue house, anyway?) People want DIRT colors...I digress.
Alright, so we make it to Saturday. The Daughter and Grandfetus drive down from the foothills and go on an adventure with the S Widdah Woman...going to Colma, where the industry is death. Gruesome, I know...this is the cemetary capitol of the SF Bay Area and you can pick your flavor...their flavor is the Serbian/Russian flavor. Time to dust off the grave housing The Husband's grandmother and his dad, the Portagee that snuck in with the Eastern Europeans when they weren't looking. I spent that time painting and painting and painting, with a frenzy reserved for the people that must ready a home for the market and who have 9 million BTUs of nervous energy to burn off. Productive morning, to say the least and when The Husband returned, he helped do a bit more. Remember...I have a LIST.
Saturday afternoon, all hell breaks loose. I get an email from the guy that has become The Agent That Takes Us Places and he has news that our plans for Sunday are changing. Yes, the Control Freak that owns The Farm has decided that "he can't be bothered" with being home for us in the morning on Sunday and will be there at 1 pm. This after we have made an appointment to see the place again, measure and look all around without him being in the lead, which is a very uncomfortable situation for a prospective buyer. I was MORE than a little concerned, simply because we were finding out that the guy was embellishing the dimensions of rooms and square footage of both the big and little homes. Sketchy behavior at best. I told The Agent that this turn of events was disturbing to me and to tell him that we would not come at all and that this has finished our relationship with The Farm. (I KNOW...The BARRRNNNN) Amazing that The Control Freak changes his tune when we say that we are going to see other places, making himself available. Too late, buddy...too late. Done.)
We made other arrangements to see three places on Sunday and drove up at the Crack O Dawn, to meet with The Daughter and SIL and drive to the furthest place on our list. I started loving the topography when we drove further east and into the forest. It reminded me of summer camp and the sweet smell of sugar pine trees. Unfortunately, the house and property, although owned by the sweetest older couple, proved to be "less than". Alright. Ok. There are two more on the list. Of course they are over our price range, by a LOT but it is good to get a feel for what things are going for. Fine. We head back west a bit and into Shingle Springs, which is the same little town where The Farm is but this time we are on the north side of the highway. We are following our guy, Andrew and HE is lost...turning and turning around , we finally find the correct street and go deep in through an older residential neighborhood. OH, I am liking this, dammit. There are a couple of homes tucked deep into the woods and here is this REALLY nice home. (I won't even whisper the asking price) I look around and it looks a LITTLE neglected on the outside...you know, flaws that don't bother The Husband but that I see and wonder about. Alright, we go through the doorway and choirs of angels sing. Ahhhhhhhhhh.
Yes, we have seen pictures of this place online and the pictures did the rooms justice. I see the living room and dining room ...ok, nice but who cares. Then I see it...the kitchen. The kitchen that leads into the great room and THE VIEW. Ahhhhhhhhh (more angels) The view of The Sierra...an artist's view. There are no owners here and so I can say it out loud...I LOVE THIS HOUSE. It is twice the size of where we currently live and on 5 acres. We crawled all over that place finding room after room and three floors of them. It was a lot of house. A lot of beautiful house, on the inside. Decks and views, oh my and then we go outside. The grounds were slightly neglected and it reminded me of what has happened here, to an extent...disappointments of a gardener battling deer and jack rabbits and life, I guess. The bones of the garden are there...Butterfly bushes and roses and things that could be brought back with a little TLC. This was the home of an artist whose life had turned upside down. It became more and more clear that this dreamhouse belonged to someone who lived an artists lifestyle and whose husband had left. See where I am going? Feel the jolt to the system to this life and house? I saw the two car garage workshop building and it had possibilities written all over it. I saw the tool shed and it was good (sounds biblical, doesn't it?) I saw some of the grounds and there were deer fences around a lost veggie garden. I saw something down at the bottom of the garden but assumed that it was part of the next property. The Husband went down to investigate and there were goats belonging to this artist.
When I saw the pictures of the gorgeous hardwood floors online, I thought that there would be no way that pets of any kind would live in this gorgeous home. Wrong. The artist had evidence of a couple of dogs and there were two cats wandering the house. In the main garage I saw (and smelled) bird cages and bird paraphernalia. Where were the birds?
Where were the birds and where was this Artist's Studio/second home building? Ohhh...over THERE. It looks like a mini-me of the house but not as grand. The porch has been claimed by spiders (aren't they trying to wrap up MY house as well?) and there is no telling what the inside looks like. We go in. Ahhhhhhhhhh, look at all of the STUFF! Seriously people...there was a 1200 square foot building with hardwood floors and nice lighting, two bay window set-ups and a full bathroom chock full of books and storage shelving and furinture and cutting tables that took up the entire space! Talk about shock and awe. There were the birds...oh, and the pet rabbit. Hiding out in the studio. Hah! This place was awesome...now, if I could just convince my mother to take the master bedroom and *I* could have the studio...THAT could work. :o) Are you tired yet? Me, too. Me, too.
Now, we hear that the owner is "motivated" to sell. Does that mean that she will entertain an offer that will bring things down to the less than scary amount of money to spend? I don't know. My poor mother almost had a coronary when she heard the asking price and I know that I probably need to have my head examined for thinking and dreaming about the place but The Husband really really loves it (The Farm? Not so much, it seems) and is going to try to make it happen.
Do you feel my pain? Sense my trauma? This home is "me", complete with the gardens that need to be brought back to life. Stay tuned.
