Why you're never too old to ask Dad for home improvement help.
Sorry, I've been neglectful in the blog lately, but I am diligently working behind the scenes on my first novel. No, I'm not ready to talk about it. Yes, it's funny, but sadly it's not autobiographical.
A special shoutout to all of the new folks who are following me! The most exhilarating thing about being a writer is not recognizing a person's name when they subscribe to your posts. The most terrifying thing about being a writer is not recognizing a person's name when they subscribe to your posts.
So welcome to this burlap sack of feral cats fighting in my brain. You're most welcome here, friend!
Brian and I moved into our house three years ago and I have been secretly dreaming of completing a project since I fell down a Pinterest rabbit hole. I was in my dreamy "oh wouldn't that be nice" phase of homeownership. Honestly? Pinterest is really like adult content for organizational people. It's dangerous and addictive.
With that being said, I was positively obsessed with an idea I saw for a laundry basket organizer. We had the perfect alcove to place something similar, but a big problem with this plan? I am not handy, my husband is currently working 12-14 hour days, and the first builder who came to give me a quote wanted over $1,000 for it. Hard pass.
What's a frugal girl to do? Call her Daddy, the OG Al Borland.
I'm sure 90s kids get the reference, but for those of you not hooked on ABC's home improvement sitcom, the show follows bumbling TV host Tim Taylor and his trusty sidekick, the bearded and much more competent Al Borland. Think of them as the 90s version of Chip and Joanna Gaines, and imagine if Chip had no idea what he was doing. Hmm...maybe that's not a good comparison after all. To say Al was the brains of the operation is an understatement. Tim was constantly screwing everything up.
Watching as an adult, that show hits differently. I can just imagine the copays The Toolman pays annually. Did his kids ever get to college? Does the ER have a triage room dedicated to him? I digress.
A few years ago my dad was going through old boxes from his childhood home. My parents aren't exactly nostalgic and that makes me a little jumpy. I don't think we should save everything from our childhoods, but the important things? Let's hang on to them!
I told him if he ever ran across anything he was especially proud of making, would he please consider not throwing it out. I would take it for nostalgic purposes!
A few months later, I was sitting at my parents' kitchen table when Papa reached into one of the cupboards and presented me with this incredible cutting board he made in high school. I am glad to say it will never see the blade of a knife. It's too precious. It was freshly sanded and honestly, breathtaking.
Seriously, the dude made that when he was 18. Know what I was making at 18? Yo Momma jokes and bad life decisions.
My Papa is truly a master carpenter. I realized from an early age he could build anything! The bed I slept on for the first 18 years of my life was a testament to his handiness. As was the picket fence that surrounded our yard and the gorgeous deck he built around our swimming pool.
He's a professional at measure twice, cut once.
When I moved into my first grown-up apartment almost 20 years ago, I came home to find two gorgeous hand-made Adirondack chairs sitting on my front porch. He had made them, drove them up from Alabama, and surprised me! What a guy!
The irony is I'm really an indoorsy kind of girl, but just the idea that I could sit outside was appealing. Those chairs have adorned every front porch I've owned, including the current Casa Fuller B&B.
So back to the present day, I was seriously wanting a Papa custom-piece to put in my new home, the cat of course was gifted a bespoke (bespoken?) eight-foot cat tower we named the Taj Mahal years earlier. Grandchildren are meant to be spoiled, yes?
Can we take a moment to appreciate that hot pink trim thought? *chef's kiss*
I texted my dad and asked if he would be willing to put one of my Pinterest dreams into reality.
I offered to pay him handsomely. I offered to fetch it myself, I even told him he could build it out of the cheapest wood you can buy. That's plywood, right? Nope, the master carpenter would not be persuaded. "But dude, I don't have high standards," I texted him.
"Yeah, but I do." He replied. Mic drop.
Papa asked me to sketch him what I wanted and he would make it a reality. Having successfully mastered the art of our home office renovation, I knew I had this, despite my hatred for simple math.
Joke's on you, high school math teachers, I do carry around a calculator in my pocket daily.
I got out my trusty measuring tape and did what my Papa always taught me - measure twice.
Using the bottom of a box of Club crackers (I wish I was kidding, but it's true), I created a rough draft of what I hoped it would look like but told him that he had artistic liberties with the final product. Again, I don't have high standards.
The master carpenter actually complimented me on my thorough design and recording of all dimensions. It's a nice feeling to have Yoda tell you did well at something. I'm still a Padawan in the art of home improvement. My midi-chlorian count is suuuuuper low and I tend to embrace the dark side most days.
We made a few tweaks from design to construction, most notably abandoning the cubby system in lieu of open shelving. But seriously...Papa literally blew me away.
True to form, he made it from solid wood, so if we ever experience a tornado I have a safe space in the laundry room. This thing is a beast.
Delivery came free of charge, but I think my parents both had mild coronary episodes when they realized my laundry room was on the second floor.
I was totally down to let it sit in our entryway until my two handsome weight-lifting neighbors came home to help me take it upstairs, but no. My dad got a dolly and yall. It took ALL THREE OF US to get it up the stairs! Sweet heavens gracious, that thing was heavy. I'm still concerned both of them may have hurt themselves during the climb of Everest.
On Saturday, Brian took me to Wal-Mart and I picked out a pretty Pioneer Woman shelf liner. It was fun and had some of the deep teal colors as my walls.
So, all in all, how does it feel to have a custom-made Papa piece in my home? It's incredible. It's not what I envisioned - it's so much better! Suffice it to say, if we ever move this is not staying with the house. I will love and cherish it for years, knowing it was made with love. Papa even signed the back. Awwww.
I think I'll wait at least a few years before I ask him to build anything else. But I did treat him to a bbq lunch and a giant t-bone steak for his trouble.
So all in all, we both got something we love.
Thanks for reading!
~ Christy
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