All posts in: Life

The Next Big Thing.

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When we closed on our house last summer, one of the big lingering questions in the back of my mind had to do with how much our decision was motivated by our total infatuation with the house itself versus how much we actually liked Kingston. At that point, we’d only spent a few short days in Kingston—we didn’t really know anybody here, and honestly we didn’t have a great sense of our neighborhood or the city as a whole. So we took a gamble: we felt like we had a good enough handle on the local real estate market that if it turned out we’d make a huge mistake, the purchase price of our house was low enough that even if all we did was go in and make a few improvements, we could probably unload it at a profit or at least break even. So we went for it and hoped for the best.

What we’ve found here, though, has surpassed all expectations or predictions. We quickly had more close friends here than we ever did in Brooklyn, and almost immediately felt like part of a community in a way I don’t think I ever have, anywhere. I love living in Kingston, and I’m not sure I’ve ever felt that way about anywhere I’ve lived (yes, including NYC…maybe especially NYC). The Hudson Valley is so beautiful and full of such amazing history, and Kingston itself is so charming, has so much going on, and really feels like a place where things are happening. We live within easy walking distance to Uptown Kingston, and the number of new shops and restaurants and stuff that have opened even just in the time we’ve lived here is pretty heartening. There’s a certain energy here that feels very inclusive, and interesting, and exciting, and it’s just…good. We made the decision a while ago to try to really make a go of living up here full-time. We still have to commute into the city sometimes for work, but given that a lot of what we do can be done remotely, it’s manageable so far. We’ve sub-letted the apartment while we give this whole thing a shot…so it’s still there if it’s really just not working out, but I don’t think we’ll hold onto it much longer. I really want to be here to stay. It feels right.

SO. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about, well, all sorts of things. What I want to be doing. Where I want to be. How what I’m doing right now fits or doesn’t fit into that. How I have this really pretty amazing platform as a blogger and how that must be good for something other than chronicling the renovation of my own house. Blogging is a strange, funny thing. I’m so lucky to have readers, and people interested in what I’m doing. I’m also really lucky that I’ve been able to turn this blog into something that generates income, especially because—at least here—I get to combine so many things that I love to do and present it exactly how I want to. Not many people get to say that about something they get paid for.

Blogging has also provided a lot of opportunities, some of which I’ve taken advantage of and most of which I haven’t. In case you don’t read a lot of blogs or just aren’t quite sure how it all works, the long and short of it is that a lot of companies want to be part of blogger content, sort of in the same way they’ll buy a full-page ad in a magazine or something. A typical sponsorship transaction for me at least generally involves the exchange of free product (which I then use and feature in a blog post) and an advertising fee for featuring said product. I always disclose when a post is sponsored, I only work with companies/products that I truly like and use, and I try my best to be as transparent about all of it as possible. Ultimately, I want my sponsored content to be a good thing—alerting readers to products or companies that they might not know about but could make their lives better. Isn’t that the point? And of course sometimes I can even convince a company to do a giveaway to pass some of that swag on to someone else.

Especially since buying the house, though, one of the big questions I’ve had to face is how to balance my want/need to make money from my blog (and, by accepting products, ease our own renovation costs) with still being a real person and stuff. Because I get it: I read blogs too, and it’s hard to relate to a project when parts or all of it are being paid for by a company. Consequently, I say no much more often than I say yes, and—truth be told—when I do say yes, it can feel sort of selfish just funneling that money and those products into my own house.

So, like I said, it’s made me think a lot. Isn’t there a way that I can take this amazing platform, and these opportunities, and put it toward something that doesn’t just benefit…me? What if I could get involved in a whole different project—something where I could take advantage of what I can offer as a blogger but in a way that benefits the community in a broader sense?

So that’s where I stood. Thinking. Considering. Dreaming.

Houseexterior

And then this happened. And I’m very excited. Let me tell you all about it.

So here’s the story: this sweet little house is about a block down the street from my house. The block is filled mainly with fairly large Victorian-era houses (almost all multiple apartments now), but this house is much smaller (about 1300 square feet) and set really far back from the street. It literally took me about 9 months to even notice that there was a house here—the lot is only 23’ wide and the yard is so overgrown that you kind of have to be looking for it. Once I noticed it, though, I trekked through the yard and looked in the windows and read the big “CONDEMNED” sign on the door, and maybe that house grabbed hold of a little part of my heart. I sort of joked with Max that someday, I’d figure out how to fix it up if nobody got to it first.

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Then, a couple months after that, I was casually looking at real estate listings on Zillow because a friend of ours is looking for a house. And there was the little house down the street, up for sale in as-is condition. Asking price: $20,000. Now, yes, that’s a lot of money—but for a whole house? Stuff like that doesn’t really exist much in Kingston…even the stuff that needs a ton of work is usually around the $100,000 mark, if not more (we kind of got the deal of the century with our house…we paid a good deal less than that, but that’s not really the point).

ANYWAY, so I emailed the listing agent asking for more information. I had to know what was so super wrong with it that taking it on would just be way too stupid and expensive and insane.

He described the house as a “total gut” but assured me that it had been cleared as structurally sound (hey, it’s a start!) AND, despite its condition, actually had a nearly-new roof on it. We set a date to walk through the house so I could evaluate the condition and see if it was worth looking into further.

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This post is already getting long, so it’s maybe not worth getting into the whole crazy process of buying this house, but it was basically sketchy from start to finish. I used the same real estate agent who sold us our house (Nan Potter—if you’re looking for a house in the area, she’s great!), and the same inspector, the same plumber consult on the plumbing—so I felt like I was in good hands, but it was totally weird. Turns out the “agent” wasn’t actually an agent, so the house was only posted on Zillow. No For Sale sign out front, not listed on MLS…my real estate agent had no idea the property even existed. All of that aside, the information about the roof and the structure appeared to be completely true (this was backed up the Kingston building inspector who condemned the house—turns out it was just because it was vacant and in such poor shape, and the city wanted to deter squatters and stuff, but structurally the house was fine), and the title search came up clean—no outstanding mortgage, leins, or back-taxes. All good things. So yeah—CLEARLY needs a ton of work, but nothing totally insane or prohibitive that would just make it totally stupid as an investment. They agreed to take $19,000 for it. So we closed. And it’s mine, kind of.

So, let’s talk about the financial stuff, since I’m sure by now you’re probably thinking something along the lines of “what the hell?”. This is not the kind of house that banks are really inclined to give loans for, so this all panned out pretty differently than my house. What I really needed to make this work was an investor who could see the potential in the house, had some money to put up, and had faith that the financial risk would pay off and that I could do it. “So Mom,” I asked, “want to go into business together?” As a reader and frequent commenter on my blog and pretty much my biggest advocate, best friend, and supporter in my life in general, it didn’t take much to convince her that I was capable of taking on a project of this scope. The financial side of things took a little more convincing and lots of back-and-forth, but she agreed that the whole thing seemed to make good financial sense, and with the help of a lawyer, we worked it all out.

So here it is:

  1. We decided to roll $10,000 of our remaining renovation budget and savings for this house into the new house. It’s a lot of money…so long, refinished floors. See ya later, sandblasted radiators. Adios, renovated bathrooms. Check ya later, side porch tear-off. And so on. I feel like we’ve gotten our house to the point where we can occupy a lot of time on the cheap stuff (skim-coating, painting, that kind of thing). The house is very livable, and with the addition of the dining room, the soon-to-be pantry, the soon-to-be library, soon-to-be entryway/hallway, a bedroom that just needs a skim-coat and a paint job, we’re in OK shape. The more expensive projects can wait.
  2. My mother, bless her, decided to buy a $10,000 equity share in the house. In simple terms, this means that she has 10K tied up in the property, and how that breaks down percentage-wise (so, what percentage of the property she owns and is entitled to when it sells) will be determined when the renovation is complete.
  3. Additionally, my mom is providing a high-interest loan (technically, 10-year, 7% fixed) to cover some of the renovation costs. So basically she’s making more money loaning the money to me than she would with it accruing interest in a bank account, and it gets to go toward something awesome in the meantime.
  4. Because I’m acting as general contractor and managing the entire project, we agreed that it was fair to account for my man-hours as a way to build my own equity in the property. Additionally, any sponsorship deals I can bring in as a result of the blog will also help build my equity (so if a company provides, say, a toilet, the price of that toilet factors into my equity share).

SO. That’s how that’s working.

One thing (out of a million) that makes this project very different than my own house is that, obviously, I’m not living in it or planning to live in it, meaning I have carrying costs to deal with, meaning I have to get this thing done. I’m aiming for about 8 months. We can all point and laugh later on if I totally blow that, but I think it can be done.

So what’s the plan with this place? Originally I was thinking it could be a rental property, providing a little bit of supplementary income every month, at least until the Kingston real estate market picks up a little. Really, though—I don’t really think I want to be a landlord, and I think I’d feel so much better about selling it to somebody who will love and appreciate it as much as I do. Which I guess would make me a novice flipper, but that word has such negative connotations that I’m very hesitant to use it. I bought this house because I love it, and because it’s on my own street and having vacant, condemned, falling-apart homes like this isn’t good for anybody in the community, and because I was worried that somebody else would buy it and just continue to pay the taxes and let it fall further into disrepair. And I felt like I could do it, because of all the stuff I talked about earlier, and moreover that I wanted to do to it and I think it’s a good thing. I’m going to put a lot of blood, sweat, tears, effort, and love into this place, and if that can be appreciated and maintained by some young cute family buying their first home or something like that, I’d be beyond thrilled.

So what does this mean for the blog? Well, for starters, more content! I’ve pretty much accepted that I don’t think I’ll ever be capable of being the kind of blogger who posts everyday, but the pace of this project will hopefully be pretty fast and furious, and there’ll be a lot of ground to cover. I’ll also still be working on our own house (although the pace of that is probably going to have to slow down quite a bit for a while…), and sharing a freelance project every now and then…I guess it’ll basically be Manhattan Nest on steroids.

As I mentioned earlier, this will also (hopefully, god willing, because I am counting on it) mark something of an uptick in sponsored content here on the site. I know lots of people (rightfully, often) have reservations about sponsored content on blogs, and the only thing I can really say is that I will continue to be as transparent as possible, and I will continue to be selective about who I work with. I’m never going to agree to something just to make a quick buck. At the end of the day, I want Manhattan Nest to be entertaining, of course, but I also want it to be a high-quality, trustworthy resource, and I don’t want to do anything to compromise that. It’s not worth it.

I’ll come back in a couple of days to talk more about the house, show lots more pictures, talk about alllll the work it needs, etc., but I think it’s too much to get into all of that now! It’s going to be so great, though, and I’m so excited and happy to be able to do this. As always, I hope you’ll come along for the ride. It should be wild!

PS—Oh yeah, we need a name for this place! I keep calling it “the other house,” but let’s come up with something more catchy.

I Love Lorde and I Don’t Care That Everyone Else Does Too.

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Over the summer, Max became obsessed with all of the different music streaming services available and spent hours endlessly comparing and analyzing the relative benefits of each. A side effect of comparing the services was actually using them to listen to music, and because we spend a lot of time in the car driving back and forth to Kingston, we’d end up listening to his new discoveries together until I’d make him turn them off. I’m grouchy when it comes to all sorts of things, but music especially, and once I’ve decided I’m not into something, I’m really not into it.

Things were different when Max “found” Lorde last summer, though. I guess she was already doing pretty well on Spotify but had yet to get any radio play, and from the second he started playing The Love Club EP, I was pretty much in love with this girl.

I know it’s kind of completely ridiculous now to sit down and write anything about a now mega-famous, super successful, and broadly loved teenaged pop star, but Lorde is so…different. So much writing—whether it be essays or song lyrics—tries so hard to be “universal” that it ends up just becoming incredibly generic, and I feel like that’s what so much pop music is: generic, vague, disposable, and boring. Lorde doesn’t necessarily sing about what everyone else is singing about, though—her writing is so beautifully specific and personal. She’s not writing about being a 16 year-old girl; she’s writing about how it feels to be living her life as herself at a particular moment in time, and she renders it beautifully. That might seem like the same thing but it really isn’t—whether or not the listener relates to or understands exactly what she’s saying is completely secondary to telling her story in the way that she wants to tell it.

Back in September, my birthday was spent alone in Kingston. Max had to stay in Brooklyn for some reason, the dogs were curled up by themselves somewhere, and I was spending the evening trying to manage all of the construction debris and garbage and clutter that had accumulated in the front parlor room after the destruction of the vestibule wall. By some amazing coincidence, Lorde’s first full-length album Pure Heroine had also come out that day, and I remember listening to it on repeat while I was trying to wrestle sections of vestibule into contractor bags, frequently going back over to my computer to replay certain songs and turn the volume up even higher. I know birthdays are supposed to be exciting, but I always tend to just get really angsty and sad, and matters aren’t exactly helped by being alone and surrounded by trash with the pressure of trying to procure a new roof and a new boiler before winter sets in weighing on you. Something about listening to that album over and over again helped, though, and made me feel OK. Almost 7 months later, it still sounds fresh and new and exciting to put on. It’s kind of a perfect album.

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Max and I went to see Lorde at the first of her three shows at the Roseland Ballroom on Monday night. I loved her performance at the Grammy’s but I don’t think she sounded all that amazing—I’m sure she was nervous—and I was kind of expecting her to be good. Not spectacular, not bad.

WELL. This show? Incredible. We had general admission tickets and we were pretty much right in the middle of the crowd. Normally, this makes me sort of frustrated and anxious—I don’t like being trapped and surrounded by tons of people, and I always feel really short and like I can’t see anything, and the people around me are always pissing me off in one way or another. But there was just a completely different vibe at Lorde’s show. We basically got to know everyone around us between the opener and when Lorde’s set started, and it was fun to feel like we were experiencing the show with all of these people instead of just trying to block them out. We were packed in tight but nobody was pushing or shoving or making enemies. We were on each other’s team.

Digression: the one thing that totally detracted from the show was the broad use and overuse of cellphones to take pictures or record video. I get that people want to capture the moment and I don’t really see anything wrong with taking a few pictures, but when people hold their phones a foot above their heads and record video of entire songs, it’s is just so rude and obnoxious. There’s a whole group of people behind that person whose  view is completely blocked by the dumb phone, just so that they can capture a crappy low-quality piece of footage that they’ll never watch again. It makes me crazy, and I really hope my generation figures out that this is not OK behavior, or conducive to enjoying live performance. Don’t do it, people. 

Digressing from my digression: how does anyone take halfway decent concert photos with an iPhone? I barely even try to take pictures at concerts anymore because my photos are always, without exception, awful—even when I’m standing close to the stage. It’s like my special power.

Aside from the phones, though, the crowd was great. And Lorde was great. She sounded amazing vocally, and the performance was just completely enchanting. There wasn’t anything technically very flashy or interesting about the production (the lighting and her costumes were very well done, though), but that understatement suits her. When she wasn’t singing, she was personal, humble, incredibly charismatic, and just so cool. I do wish she had played a couple more songs off of the EP and done an encore and played for 7 more hours and come to give me a hug and let me take her out for coffee and let me join the tour and allowed me to play with her hair and tell her my secrets and become her BFF, but other than that it was a perfect concert. She’s going to be around for a long, long time, and I’m so glad we got to see her so early in her career. She’s incredible.

New Yorkers—if you have any way to get yourself to the third and final night of the show at Roseland Ballroom tonight, DO IT. You can usually scalp tickets around the venue or look on Craigslist. And here’s the list of her upcoming US tour dates! And if you don’t know what I’m talking about at all and need to be initiated, go do yourself a favor and download Pure Heroine.

I Wrote a Thing!

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Writing is more or less what I studied in college——mainly non-fiction——and what I really love to do. But actually writing? There’s a lot of fear that comes along with that. There’s the invitation for constant rejection and judgment, the small or nonexistent paychecks, the uncertain future, the inherent narcissism of feeling that anybody should care at all about the words you manage to string together. I’ve become far less shy (thanks, in large part, to this blog) about letting people read things that I write, but despite the encouragement of many professors, friends, family, and readers here on this site over the years, I’ve been a real shithead about actively trying to do anything with my writing. I seem to operate on the idea that someday I’ll get around to it, but not today. I feel like I spend a lot of my life these days hustling from one thing to the next and just trying to stay afloat and make it all work, and as a consequence I tend to worry a lot about whether I’m losing sight of my actual goals. I worry that I have no real idea about how one goes from Point A to Point B, and that my life doesn’t reasonably allow for the possibility of figuring it out. I suppose these are pretty common feelings for 20-somethings (or everybody, really) to feel, but still. I can’t escape the constant nagging that I’m doing everything wrong and backwards.

I want to change that. I want to write stuff. So I wrote a thing: the “personal history” essay segment for Anthology Magazine‘s Winter issue. And it felt really good. Working with Anh-Minh Le, the editor, was so great—she gave me loads of creative freedom and feedback and then patiently allowed me to be annoying and picky about details and editing as I reworked and tried to whittle it down to an acceptable length. It was stressful and hard and scary, but I’m happy with my work. It’s just 3 little pages——nothing crazy——but I learned so much in the process.

And now, here it is! Something I wrote, printed in a really pretty magazine, on really nice paper, with illustrations! Anthology is a really beautifully produced publication, and this issue——also featuring my cyber-friends Lisa and Clay, the multi-talented Fabulous Beekman Boys, and lots of other great folks——is no exception. It’s packed full of inspiration and beautiful pictures and good writing and interesting stories, and there I am, wedged into pages 43-45. It’s so cool to be a part of it.

So if you ever wondered what happened to the previous owner of our house or whether our house is haunted or why the Internet is a crazy place or how I feel about it all, I’d appreciate if you’d pick up a copy! Here is a list of stockists who might have the current issue if you’d like to buy it in person, and it’s also carried at Anthropologie stores nationwide and online.

Huge thanks to the team at Anthology for taking the leap on me and to the very talented Christine Rösch for the fabulous illustrations of my piece! I’d be hugely pleased if you read it.

P.S.—the Hygge & West giveaway is still open and accepting entries, so if you haven’t thrown your name in the hat for some beautiful wallpaper, get to it!

Life
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Happy Birthday, Mekko! 4!

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My family always had a lot of pets. Not, like, a creepy amount of pets, but enough pets. There was one dog, and then there were two, and shortly thereafter my siblings and I were each allowed our own private living animal to teach us about responsibility. I got a hamster. My sister had a guinea pig. My brother had a small exotic tree frog indigenous to the South American rainforest, whose talents included changing sexes at will, devouring live crickets, and making loud chirping sounds in the middle of the night. The idea was that we’d each care for our own creature independently, and I suppose we did, insofar as children really can do anything independently. The duty still fell to my mother to take us to the pet store for fresh bedding and hay, or to point out when our rooms were developing that pungent odor that meant it was time to give their various enclosures a good scrub-down. Somehow—at what seems now like the very birth of the Internet—my mother found a place online that allowed her to have a cylindrical container of live crickets for the frog sent through the postal service and delivered straight to our mailbox. The pet store was only a 15 minute drive away and they always had loads of crickets, and at the time I remember feeling like the whole charade was sort of silly—a solution to a problem that didn’t exist in the first place. Where did these crickets even come from? How many people had to be involved with the packaging, handling, and delivery of these crickets? Is this really what Scott, our mailman, signed up for when he took on our route?

What I’ve realized in adulthood that I didn’t adequately understand as a child is that having crickets delivered through the mail cut out one small thing for my mother to worry about. That’s a big deal when you spend so much time dealing with the constant issues and minute problems of three small children and five pets. The key to keeping up was efficiency and practicality. I’m aware now that parents these days will often book a doctor’s appointment for their children at the slightest sign of a sniffle, but my mom’s strategy was typically to let time and over-the-counter medications take care of things, unless they began to look somewhat serious. The same was true for the pets. I have a feeling my mom will resent this characterization, so I’d like to point out that we were well cared for and, where pets were concerned, highly indulged. My hamster was, after all, treated to multiple rounds of life-saving antibiotic regimens and her life ultimately ended after several days of overnight care at the vet’s office. But the general philosophy was that serious reactions were reserved for times when chances of extreme misery or death seemed high. Otherwise, a little Tylenol and daytime TV could probably fix it.

It’s a logic that still makes sense to me. If Max had it his way, we’d be at the vet’s office at least a couple times a week, the dogs getting poked and prodded and tested for exotic medical conditions he read about online. He worries constantly and endlessly that they might drop dead at any moment. I think I’m a pretty reasonable, responsible pet owner, but next to him I’m basically a scene from Old Yeller. 

That’s how it was a few weeks ago, when Mekko threw up as Max was getting ready for work. It wasn’t a lot of vomit. Max insisted that I take her directly to the vet, and I told him that she was probably fine (Pit Bulls have notoriously finicky stomachs) but that I’d keep an eye on things, and he told me that if she died it would be all my fault. Noted. Good chat.

As soon as he walked out the door, though, I heard it. That gurgling, weird sound that dogs only make when they’re puking.

The expression on a dog’s face after it’s vomited is the saddest thing in the world. Not only do they feel sick, but they feel really guilty about being sick, and they want nothing more than for you to know how guilty they feel.

We walked a few steps down the hallway back toward the kitchen so I could grab the paper towels and a slice of bread to help settle her stomach a little. Then it happened. She just…stopped. Then she kind of crouched. Our eyes were locked, and hers grew three times in size. She looked like she was about to sit down, but then she stopped halfway. This is the conversation we had, telepathically:

“Come to the kitchen, baby! You’re OK.”
“I can’t. I can’t move from this spot.”
“Mekko, why aren’t you moving?”
“I can’t.”
“Mekko, are you…shitting??”
“I think so. I think I am shitting.”
“Oh my god. Oh my god. Um. I officially don’t know what to do.”
“I don’t either. This is all happening so fast.”
“Oh dear lord, that is just disgusting. Oh Mekko. Oh Honey.”
“OH GOD WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME I’M SO SORRY.”
“Holy fuck, this is foul.”
“WHY IS THIS HAPPENING. WHAT IS COMING OUT OF ME.”
“I’ve never seen this before. I never want to see this again. I literally don’t even know how to clean this up.”

And then it was over. We just stood there, staring at each other, both of us sort of frozen in shock and inaction. Saddest Thing in the World II: perfectly healthy, relatively normal dog momentarily looses complete control of bowels. Then she ran to the couch and hid in shame.

I decided to stay home and monitor her for a few hours, and that was the end of it. Whatever it was had evacuated itself from her system, and by noon she was acting completely normal, if still a bit humble and apologetic.

The severity of the foulness of that day continues to haunt me weeks later, but in a way, I think it brought Mekko and I closer together. That’s kind of how it is when you have a dog. They can take a massive, explosive crap on your floor while staring you directly in the eye, and you’ll still think they’re the most special, endearing thing on the planet.

We’ve had Mekko for 2 years today, which is crazy both because it seems to have gone by in the blink of an eye and because it’s so hard to remember what it was like without her. I realized last night that if I knew me two years ago—less than a year after meeting Max, still a student, and very unsure about so many things—I would have told me that I was crazy to adopt a super energetic 2 year old Pit Bull with a mysterious past from a shelter I knew nothing about after walking her around a city block for five minutes. I would have told me to get a grip, and that when the time was right, I’d find the right dog. Someday, but not today.

But that’s the thing…maybe there are better and worse times to adopt a dog (or do all sorts of things, really), but there’s never really a right time. There’s never really a time that’s just GREAT for the potty training and the added expenses and the unexpected vet visits and the bad behavior and the enormous puddles of shit on your floor first thing in the morning, and all of the many things that come along with being a pet owner. But you make it work.

Mekko is a great dog. I’m so glad we met her, and I’m so glad we brought her home. I can’t imagine my life without her, and I can’t believe she’s already FOUR! Happy birthday, Mekko! Here are some snapshots of the birthday girl from the past year:

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Mekko is a Pit Bull Terrier, one of the world’s most misunderstood and unfairly stigmatized dog breeds. Pit Bulls are incredibly kind, patient, loyal, affectionate, intelligent, and resilient, and I’m so glad that we adopted one. It’s estimated that around 90% of Pit Bulls brought to shelters in the United States are euthanized, and that only 1 in 600 will ever find a forever home—so please, if you are considering getting a dog, please think seriously about adopting a Pit. Further, if you have a dog, please spay/neuter and encourage others to do the same. 

We adopted Mekko from Sean Casey Animal Rescue in Brooklyn, an organization that works tirelessly to rescue animals in need, with a particular focus (though not exclusive) on Pit Bulls. Every year, I make a donation to help them continue the work that saved our dog. If you’d like to donate too, you can do so here. Every little bit helps!

Life
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Thanksgiving + Ferm Winner + Discount!

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Even though Max and I campaigned hard to get everyone to come to Kingston for Thanksgiving this year (which, admittedly, might have been a little crazy given the current state of the house!), that didn’t happen. Instead, we all ended up convening at my parents’ house in northern Virginia, which, come Monday, will belong to someone else.

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When I tell people that my parents just sold the home we grew up in, they tend to get this look of deep sympathy and sadness, as if somebody died. But it isn’t really like that. More than anything, it’s just sort of disorienting seeing the house so undone. It’s weird to walk into empty rooms that I’m used to seeing full of furniture and things. It’s weird to open closets or cabinets that have always been packed with stuff, or to be unable to locate a tube of toothpaste. Not sad, just…odd.

I don’t think I’ll miss this house—the actual bricks and mortar structure of it, that is. Like so many other similar houses in this area, it was built in the 90s in that strangely conservative style that I’ll never totally understand the mass appeal of (I think it was described by the builder as “French Colonial”). As we were the first occupants, the house was a blank canvas when we moved in—nothing to fix or undo. As I slowly understand more and more of the unique challenges that old houses present, I’ll admit that there’s something sort of nice about that——a complete set of double-glazed windows, modern electrical and heating systems, walls that can be simply painted without being entirely reconstructed first, that sort of thing——but I still can’t say it’s something I’d choose for myself.

Still, I’m thankful for this house. There isn’t really anything I can say that’s more cliché than this, but I’m thankful for the memories my family made here. I’m thankful for the bedroom that my parents let me fill with whatever would fit (unless it was a TV). I’m thankful for the backyard where we buried deceased pets, and for the long summers that I spent gardening carefully around their graves. I’m thankful that this was a place where we were encouraged to become the sorts of people we wanted to become, and I’m thankful that this was a place where we could comfortably, safely, and confidently bring home the people we love.

My parents are headed to a cool, super modern new condo right in the heart of Washington, DC, and I’m so excited for them. They’ve lived in this area for about 30 years at this point, but they’ve never actually lived in the city, and I think it’ll be a great change for them. So I’m thankful for that, too. I’m thankful that they have the good sense to move on, downsize, and let somebody else enjoy this place now. It’s time.

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I’m thankful for so much this year that I guess I should just say that I’m thankful that I have too many things to be thankful for to list them here. If you’re reading this post, though, you’re on that list! Thank you for being here, and I hope you have a terrific Thanksgiving (and if you’re not in the States, I hope you just have a great day!).

FERMDISCOUNT

ALSO——judging from the oodles of entries to the giveaway, I guess I’m not alone in loving Ferm Living Shop! Even though there could only be one winner (congratulations, Shauna!), we can all enjoy this handy discount code. Yay!

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