The Paint Fairy returns

I hate to say it, but I think I might be a (rather unhappy but) slightly better person when JF is away. I watch less television, sleep more, eat better, and get more done.

While he was in the Yukon, I:

  • put up some floating shelves
  • hired a new handy man
  • cleaned the house top to bottom
  • practiced my piano scales
  • exercised
  • re-organized my filing system
  • volunteered a lot
  • re-mulched the front garden

He’s only been back for four hours and I can already feel my brain descending into happy slothfulness.

In any case, my greatest accomplishment – while JF was slurping on Bonanza Browns by the Klondike – was painting the attic.

JF's man attic - desperately needs a coat of paint

JF’s man attic, pre-paint. And covered in spackle because it was once a studio.

Months ago, my aunt JoAnne (a.k.a. the Paint Fairy) offered to come by and help me finish the sucker. The rest of our home was painted last fall, but somehow the pocked-marked upstairs nook was intimidating. So many unusual angles and corners.

The Paint Fairy’s kind proposal — and my aunt Denise’s paint donation — finally gave me the kicks in the arse I needed.

The job took two coats and a whole day to complete. I couldn’t have asked for better company. We painted, paused for toasted tomato sandwiches, painted more, puttered in my garden, painted again, and then celebrated our success with wine and roasted potatoes.

Here’s the room in stages:

Merci, mes tantes pour vos beaux cadeaux. Our house feels more finished for them.

House update

I’m taking a quick break from Georgian’s Got Talent Benefit Concert shenanigans (show is tomorrow and Friday and tickets can be purchased here!) to update you all on the state of my house.

After stripping acres of wallpaper last summer and painting walls last fall, we took an extended home maintenance break.

Snowy road

This was my drive to work late last week

Probably too long a break, actually. I blame the horrid winter we’re (still!) enduring.

We hired a nice handyman named Scott to clean out our eaves troughs just after Halloween. They froze before he could get to them, so he said he’d come by at the first thaw. Well, the thaw never came.

I just did the math and that’s almost five months – or about 40% of the whole damn year – under ice.

We didn’t spend those five months hammering away as planned, but we did pick up fun new skills like pipe thawing, flood fighting, car boosting, and ice chipping – all vital when powering through cold, cold February in a Victorian home.

In any case, we’re getting back into the swing of things — our energy levels rising as the days grow longer. JF is nailing in our new powder room ceiling as I type.

First priority when things thaw? Stripping the addition’s siding so we can insulate the mudroom. There goes the hardwood floor budget, but at least we’ll avoid more long winter nights holding hairdryers to our pipes.

Here are some photos of our space as it looked last weekend. There are about a zillion things that don’t look right or need to be fixed, but it’s feeling like home.

Heather and Jerry left us this lovely sign for our front porch

Heather and Jerry left us this lovely sign for our front porch

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The Paint Fairy

Anyone who has ever read A Little Princess remembers the happy moment when the kind neighbour starts turning Sara Crewe’s cold attic into a cozy haven. She gets back after a day’s hard labour to find warm slippers, a comfy chair, and a hot dinner.

Well, JF and I have our own special benefactor: my amazing (generous, funny, smart) aunt JoAnne, a.k.a. the Paint Fairy.

The Paint Fairy comes into our house while we’re at work and makes magical things happen. First, she made our ugly purple stairs a more dignified black.

Left: purple city. Right: dignified black

Left: purple city. Right: dignified black

Then, she swapped our grimy yellow doors for neutral white ones.

Left: Yellow doors, white walls. Right: white doors, white walls.

Left: Yellow doors, white walls. Right: white doors, white walls.

She never drips, does as many coats as it takes, cleans everything up, and leaves nice notes on the kitchen table.

She also (I suspect) does far more than she lets on. Something tells me all the trim in the hallway is looking fresher than before, and I’m pretty sure those exposed pipes were a dirty brown.

The Paint Fairy’s gifts – time and energy – are infinitely better than money under my pillow or presents under my tree, because they make my too looooong to do list that much shorter. And they instantly put me in a good mood when I get home.

Because she won’t let me thank her with money or presents (she’s granted me dinner at our place… pretty sure she’s never sampled my cooking) I want to thank her here.

Merci, ma tante, pour ton merveilleux cadeau. Je t’aime.

If there were more paint fairies out there, the world would be a happier place.

Electric baby blues

I have long subscribed to Style at Home, House and Home and Architectural Digest magazines. Plus I buy the occasional drug store issue of Home and Garden and Elle Décor. I have also watched every single episode of anything on HGTV by Sarah Richardson. I spend a lot of my spare time trolling through home stores and antique shops.

Suffice to say, I thought I had the decorating thing down. I had absorbed good taste by osmosis. Plus I figured I must have excellent style genes from my mother, whose home is simply lovely to be in.

Turns out that looking at fabulous pictures of Diane von Furstenberg’s Manhattan penthouse isn’t the same as being Diane von Furstenberg. Or her interior designer. Or even anyone distantly related to her interior designer’s assistant. And style doesn’t transmit through DNA.

I have absolutely terrible taste in paint colours. So far I’ve chosen a chilling hospital white and a colour I can only describe as electric baby blue. Both are uniquely horrid, but after two months of living with frog tape, we’re simply unwilling to paint over either. We’ve accepted the baby blues.

JF, puttying the cracked bathroom walls

JF, puttying the cracked bathroom walls

Paint debacle aside, the place is starting to feel like home. We’ve made a few good meals, hosted a few good friends, and gained a few good pounds thanks to the Elmvale bakery’s boston cream donuts — they have real cream in them and are made fresh every morning. They smell like delicious trouble.

Mmmmmmm

Mmmmmmm

And even though I’m not happy with the way it looks right now, our house will get there. I did a walkabout tonight and took some pictures for you. Skipped the loft because it’s currently the most work-in-progressy space, but I promise to post photos of those rooms soon.

What I’m loving most about being in this house is what’s around it. My family is minutes away. The air smells like fresh rain, or cow dung, or burning leaves – depending on the time of day and year.  And I can walk 30 paces to pretty trails filled with fall colours.

This field is just off the trail by our house

This field is just off the trail by our house