History of Habitation

Both Mike and I grew up in ranch houses in suburban neighborhoods in the Midwest. While Mike really liked the style of his large, rambling ranch with a sunken family room, I was less inspired by the brick ranch that I grew up in. I always admired older, two-story homes, like the one that my grandmother lived in. It had a parlor behind pocket doors, a beautiful wood staircase, built-in cabinets and a cozy kitchen with black and white tile floors. This is the kind of home that feels like home to me.

In college, Mike lived in the dorms. He loved it and the food. Unusual. I lived in a second floor apartment in an old, run-down house. But, it had the tall, double-hung windows with wide window ledges that you only find in older homes. It was light and bright, and had a nice kitchen. If you ignored the fact that the exterior staircase to my apartment was likely to disintegrate or detach from the building at any minute, it was a great place.

From college, we moved together to Kansas City. Our apartment was another second-floor apartment in a very old building. How old? Old enough that, one night, one of the bed legs broke through the hardwood floors. It was cold, and kind of dark. The kitchen was tiny. The upside? Well, we were right next door to a chocolate shop. The other upside was the beautiful balcony. I'm a sucker for balconies. And chocolate. Eating chocolate on a balcony. Does it get better than that?

Our next apartment was a duplex in Charlottesville, VA. It was probably built around the 1950s. It was two story with hardwood floors throughout. It had gorgeous southern light pouring in through the front window. Our other light source was on the east, from a series of windows with ledges wide enough to put potted plants (a feature that I really like.) The kitchen was cute, with knotty pine cabinets and a little peak-through to the dining room.

For the next two years, we had two separate places. Mike continued to live in Charlottesville, splitting an old house with two classmates. From the outside, it was cute. Inside, it was too dark. And, dirty. Three busy graduate students does not equal a tidy house. I lived in Washington, DC, in the basement of my friend Amy's parents' house. It was a tiny little apartment, but had a nice kitchen and windows on the walkout side.

Once Mike finished his graduate coursework, he moved up to DC to live with me. We rented an apartment in a nice highrise building near my campus. While it wasn't charming, it was very comfortable, even luxurious, in its own way (e.g. dentist, hairdresser, convenience store, all in the building.) If something in the apartment broke, the maintenance men were on the scene within minutes. The best part was a giant picture window that took up half the living room. Once again, let me reiterate, I love light. Light, light, light. I also love a house that isn't plagued with maintenance problems.

We moved from DC to a small village deep in the rainforest of Papua New Guinea. There were no roads in or out of the village, only air (or foot) transportation. No power or running water. We lived in a small, two room house that Mike had built with the help of the village, the summer before. We had lots of windows and a nice front porch for socializing. There was a metal roof that amplified the pitter patter of raindrops (or the roar of a downpour.) I liked that little house, and the noisy roof. It would have been nice to have indoor plumbing and fewer uninvited guests (e.g. rats, geckos, bugs.) But, it was home for that year.

Ugh, moving back to the States we lived in this ground-level apartment in Fairfax, VA. It had bad light, a narrow kitchen. Nothing really redeemable about it. Our upstairs neighbors smoked and littered our little cement patio with cigarette butts. And, we spent the whole year writing dissertations. Whew--glad that's over.

After completing our dissertations, we both got jobs at Kansas State University. We rented an apartment on Houston St, behind the bank at 14th and Poyntz. It was a little two bedroom in an older home. The kitchen was adorable--knotty pine with cabinets that could be opened from both the kitchen and from the dining room. It also had one of those little peak-through joining the kitchen and dining room. I should clarify that I'm not actually such a huge fan of knotty pine that I's want it in my own home, but in that apartment, it was cute.

So, next was our first time as "real" home owners. It was a little 1 1/2 story house in St. George, KS. It was built sometime between the 1920s and 1940s (it was moved to its current site from another location, so it's hard to say for sure.) I was utterly charmed by this house. Screened porch, sunroom, hardwood floors, built-in cabinets, large windows, a walk-out basement, and all the difficult to quantify charm of an older home. I painted the kitchen a cool blue-green color and put in black and white tile (to remind me of my grandma's house.) Unfortunately, the house was very drafty. It needed new windows and a new roof. By the time that our son Wilson was born, we realized that the neighborhood was not one that we wanted to settle in. So, we searched for a house that would be more comfortable.

We settled upon a two-story house in the suburbs. It's about 20 years old. It's comfortable and easy to heat and cool. It has established landscaping including automatic sprinklers (which, I love.) It has a nice, fenced back yard that includes a paved basketball court that is great for our son to ride bikes on. The downsides? Most of the light comes from west windows, which is just blinding in the afternoons. Almost no light comes from the south. I elected to get rid of all my houseplants, because I couldn't find enough light for them. The house is in very good shape and many people would find it quite beautiful. But, asethetically, it has kind of a 1990's oak cabinet kind of feel when I'd prefer a 1940s vibe. It just doesn't feel right to me.

I realize that many, many people would look at my current house and think that I was crazy for not loving it. Here's my analogy: pretend our two houses are boyfriends. The first was a relationship with great passion. Unfortunately, he had fatal flaws (e.g. smoked crack.) The second boyfriend is perfect from everyone's perspective: he's a high paid doctor, who is handsome and takes me to Paris for weekend trips. But, call me crazy, there is just no spark there. It wouldn't be fair to either of us to commit to a long-term relationship when there isn't any passion between us.

So, what have I learned from the 11 places that I've lived?
1) I love light. Southern light. Don't like light from the west.
2) I love big windows with wide, window ledges. I'd also love a window seat, but I've never had one.
3) I love balconies, porches, and sunrooms. I'm not too thrilled about decks, due to high maintenance.
4) I love those touches that are unique to older homes: unique woodwork, grand staircases, built-ins, pocket doors.
5) I like formality and symmetry. Mike loves an informal, open floor plan. One compromise that we've considered is using pocket doors to give a more structured look when closed, or give more open flow between rooms when opened.
6) I like my maintenance to be easy. Love that my current yard waters itself. If it could weed itself, I'd be in heaven.
7) I want a house that is comfortable and energy efficient.

More about all of this in future posts.