It was 23 years ago this past February that Bill and I bought our house in Denver. We had been married only eight months, and up until then, we had lived a few months in the little house Court and I owned near Washington Park. We sold that house in December, and spent the rest of the time in Bill’s big house near downtown Denver.
We were pretty open-minded when it came to choosing the house in which we knew we would live together for years and years. We claimed that we would live in any part of the metro area. And though we looked at houses throughout the metro area, when it came down to it, we only really felt comfortable when we were looking at houses in southeast Denver where both of us had lived all of our respective times in Denver.
We, of course, discussed what each of us was looking for in a house. I wanted an eat-in kitchen, a separate formal dining room, nearness to decent schools, and four bedrooms.
Bill’s list was much shorter, but quite a bit more difficult. Having lived in a beautiful large historic home that generated a lot of attention, here was his one and only request in a home: It had to have something special. When I would push him to try and find out what that meant, he would always answer the same: I don’t know what I mean, but I will know it when I see it.
It took some time to find our house, and quite frankly by the time we did, I had given up looking. “You go with the realtor,” I told him in my crabbiest manner. “You’re the one who wants something special, so you find it and let me know.
Well, he did, and the rest is history. By the way, the something special in our house was our huge and beautiful back yard and the steam room and sauna in the basement.
This is a long way of telling you that I loved the house immediately when I saw it, except for one thing.
“I will NOT be able to live with the paint color on the walls,” I said. It was this sort of dirty beige color that was wholly unattractive, and they had painted the ENTIRE HOUSE that color.
Well, ladies and gentleman, I am embarrassed to tell you that for the most part, our house remains that very same color 23 years later. We painted our living room, our kitchen, and our bedroom, but the rest of the house is this sort of dirty beige color that is still wholly unattractive.
Now let me tell you about my wonderful sister-in-law. Sami has exquisite taste. In addition, she has something I don’t – the wherewithal and creative spirit to actually do what it takes to make her house beautiful. And often at a whim. In fact, my brother claims that there have been several times when he has gone to bed at night and the kitchen was one color, and gotten up the next morning and the kitchen is an entirely different color. (In addition to being a decorator, Sami is a night owl.)
I often think when they come to visit, Sami must sort of cringe when she comes in the door only to see the same walls, the same furniture, the same decorative theme. However, in addition to being a decorator and a night owl, she has good manners, and so doesn’t even so much as sigh.
Sami is the kind of person who, if something goes awry in their house, will get on the internet and figure out what’s going on. If possible, she will repair it herself, even if it requires power equipment. I am tentative when I have to move Bill’s unplugged weed wacker, and she is wielding chain saws. I love that woman.
The other night, my brother sent me a text message which included a photo……
That day, Sami had gotten the chain saw she had ordered, and according to Dave, was extremely excited about it – sort of the way I felt when I got my Kitchenaid. There is no universe where a chain saw would excite me.
What I love most about the photo is that she is wielding the chain saw while wearing the frilly nightgown that Bec and I had gotten her recently for her birthday, and standing in front of a sign that says WELCOME.
She looks like Jason of Friday the 13th fame, only pretty.