I started this blog 8 months ago and since been radio silent. Much of this was due to house hunting, trying to find the perfect fit in a house that wouldn’t require me to fix something drastic in the first month. There wasn’t a lot I was allowed to fix in our apartment. Well, aside from vapor sealing a window that you could feel the breeze through, thank you lowest bid contractor. But it’s hard to have a fix it site, when you don’t have anything to fix.

We finally found it. A gorgeous house, with a yard for the dogs. I was in love by the time I finished touring the bottom floor. Husband Jon took a little more coaxing. But, it was meant to be, fate, or magic that we got this house. We had been told that they had already accepted an offer and bless my Realtor’s forethought…she replied “Ok, well if anything changes, my clients would be very interested. So please let us know.”

Three days later, something did change, and we had our chance. We submitted our offer in under 2 hours and it was a bidding war. The next day, Wednesday, we got incredible news. It was ours.

I frantically called my parents, and excitedly told them the news. I sent an email with at least 30 pictures. I asked my parents to come to the inspection with me the following Monday. I was certain I could handle any and all fixes this house would require. It felt sturdy, well cared for, and full of quality materials. I just partially wanted them to see it, and partially to have my inspector dad check to make sure I didn’t miss anything while we still had a chance to back out.

Oh we were so excited.

Two days later, Friday night, I got the worst phone call of my life.

“Your father has died.”

 

The worst thing about a death, I now believe, is that the world won’t just stop and acknowledge what just happened. You can’t hit pause. You can barely breathe, your heart feels like it’s in a vice, your mind can’t wrap around anything because of the shock…and meanwhile…the rest of the world is just going about its business. Worrying about things like what Netflix show to watch tonight. You’re caught in the current and it’s so hard to slow it down or stop long enough to get your bearings.

 

Three days later, Monday, I had to do the inspection without either of my parents. Something I never ever thought I would have to do. Husband Jon was wonderful and right by my side, but I still felt so alone and scared. It felt like all of my confidence was shattered into pieces smaller than sand. Four words changed my whole world. It changed me to my very core. The safety net of daddy fix it was gone.

Suddenly, I was profoundly aware of everything I didn’t know. Or hadn’t done in more than a decade. Sure, i could wire a plug no problem, but i had no idea how to run new lines! I knew how to solder when i was 16, but I’m almost 30 now. And a million other things I had been so arrogantly confident about before those four words.

It came down to the fact that I loved the house and I didn’t want to let it go. How i wished i could be allowed just a little time to grieve, but that’s not the way it works. So we signed the papers. And soon, it was ours. The whole process was bitter sweet. I was excited to move into the next phase of our life and out of the cheaply built apartment.

But the first several weeks, I could barely look at the place. I was reminded by everything that dad had died. Every time I got an idea or had a question, be it “what size microwave should i buy?, or “what is this thing?” I would be dialing my dad’s number before I remembered he wouldn’t answer. Then it was a fresh wave of grief. I still have difficulties being in my dad’s shop.

It’s taken months now, but the house is now our primary residence. And slowly, it’s starting to feel like a home. It’s too generic to be our home, but it will get there. Things are never going to get back to “normal”. Now we have to find a new “normal” and learn how to live with the pain of loss, and move forward in life.

I miss him so much. He was the reason I love the smell of sawdust, and cannot stand shoddy workmanship. Though many times our relationship was not perfect and our strong wills collided often, I know he loved me and was proud of me. I know he would have loved our new house and would have been right by my side for every remodel to come. Now I have to be content that he’s in my heart, and he planted the seeds of his wisdom in my head. Wisdom he gained over his entire life. He gave me a solid start and now it’s up to me to keep it going.

So i guess my point to all of this is that The Handy Anne blog is probably not going to be what I originally intended it to be. Where i can distribute my vast (snirk) knowledge to those who didn’t grow up like I did in an effort to help others learn.

No, i think it’s going to be more a testimony of a new home owner learning how to care for their home. Documenting the process of trial and error, tidbits and tricks, watching hundreds of hours of you tube tutorials, probably calling in a professional or several.

I hope keeping track of all we do will help my confidence return. I hope to inspire others to do things they never thought they could. I hope to turn this house into a home.

And I hope to honor my father’s legacy by passing on his knowledge.

I’m Anne. Spelled with an E like in Anne of Green Gables. Not Annie, Anna, Ann or Annabelle, or Anna Bananna. Just Anne. These terms won’t define me in my entirety, but it’ll give you a general idea.

A prolific DIY-er, crafter, artist, geek, smartass, builder, equalist, writer. I love the possibilities of the world. Seeing something not for what it is, but what it could be.

I grew up in a fixer-upper house. And my parents did everything themselves. By the time i could hold a garden trowel, my family was digging into the foundation to remodel the bathroom. We remodeled the kitchen, landscaped, built sheds and playhouses, re-roofed, just….everything you can imagine. Participation was mandatory. My father, a city inspector, always made sure my siblings and I knew how to do things right the first time, and what the pitfalls would be if we cut corners. My mother was never afraid to get her hands dirty. While digging trenches and moving lots of wood was not so fun, we were always learning, whether we wanted to or not.

With that came other educations: cooking, camping, sewing, fixing cars, tinkering…plus my own attraction to crafts and art. As I set out on my own, I quickly realized how lucky I was, and that the education I had railed against my entire childhood was pure gold. I had friends I had thought were smarter than me struggling with things I avoided, overcame, or never encountered because of half a second of forethought. I became the reliable friend that you called in an emergency.

Later on, I met the charming Boyfriend Jon, who eventually became the wonderful Husband Jon. Now we have two small dogs and live in an apartment near Seattle, WA. We gave up our dining room table so I could have a craft table which you can rarely see the surface. It’s an organized chaos…really. When something breaks in the apartment, I’m often the one that fixes it. I also occasionally take over my father’s shop to build my own furniture because I hate particle board.

As of last October, we now own our first home. It’s both a relief and a curse that now I don’t have to ask a landlord who will do it cheap and probably wrong. Now it’s our responsibility. I hope to start a family and teach my children all that I know. I hope to help people and explore the limits of my abilities. But for right now, it’s just us. Mr. Electronics and Mrs. Toolbellt, Thing 1 and Thing 2. And it is an adventure already.

I aim to dispense this knowledge to those in need. I want to inspire men and women of all ages to learn new skills try new things, and create. I don’t care what society thinks gender roles ought to be. If a man wants to learn how to knit, or a woman wants to build something…do it! Challenge the status quo. I’ll help if I can or at least cheer you on.

Measure twice, cut once.