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I moved to Chattanooga Carrolton Ga. in 2000. I rented a small house in North Chatt. Tiny little house with no yard and no windows. At the time I thought it was cool but it wasn't. Then I found an awesomely beautiful apartment downtown. Ten foot ceilings. Huge 9 foot tall windows. Open, lofty, painted beautiful colors. A balcony accessed through the living room window. Some called it the Friends apartment for that reason. It was perfect until the owner decided to gut the bottom and top floors (I lived on the second floor). I endured 2 years of renovations until one day while in NYC for work I got a call from the management office saying "We are bringing the real estate woman by to take pictures at 5." "Good luck with that" I replied "I'm out of town. Hope the place is a MESS." It was then, standing there in a subway, that I made the decision that I would buy a house come hell or high water. Times were good. My car had just been paid off. I was ready and was able to get a house with no money down. I got in just right before the market crashed. The building I used to live in was finished and put on the market about that time too. It sits on the corner of 4th and Lindsay, still for sale. Karma can be a bitch.
I had always wanted my own house. God knows we lived in some ugly ones when I was growing up and my mother and stepmonster were certainly not stylish. I suppose I've developed some sense of style along the way and people seem to like where I live. After the horrors that I endured living with holes in plaster and cut electric wires and noise and dust and inconveniences I knew that I no longer wanted a fixer upper. I found a nice little 40s house in a good neighborhood and made it my own.
That's where I am now and this blog is about what goes on in that house. The projects, the parties, the mishaps, the weedy yard and garden ect. It's about what happens when Martha Stewart's not looking.
