This house and I are in love. I love it fiercely, and I know it’s true love because I loved her before her big She’s All That-style makeover. Before she ripped off her nerd glasses and her dirty painter’s smock. This isn’t a looks based love- I love her bones and her soul. It was a love at first sight kind of love, even when she looked a little worse for the wear.
Look at her. If she were a person she’d be Meryl Streep, no doubt. She’s got an air of maturity. She’s confident, classic. She doesn’t need gimmicks or trends. I mean look at her for just a hot minute and try not to blush. Insert catcall. She turns coyly. “Oh, who me?” Minx.
The white brick with that squished mortar. Those arches. I’m normally a clean lines kinda girl, but those arches are doing it for me. And… there are more inside. Come, let me show you.
But First, Some Backstory
I bought her at an online auction. It was my second house to buy in this fashion, and it’s safe to say that I still don’t fully understand how these online auctions work. On the technical side of things, when I bid is an actual human being bidding against me, or is the bank auto bidding back until they reach their reserve? I don’t know, but I did know that the rule was once again in place that you were not allowed to enter the home before purchase.
Full disclosure, because we’re friends: I entered the home. Because fool me once… (I’m looking at you, Magnolia House) Cockroach style, I circled around and around and around the house looking to gain entry until, at last, I found an unlocked window with a broken screen. It was five feet off the ground, but, I was getting in that house, SO HELP ME. It was after church (I know, breaking and entering on the Lord’s day- don’t think that either the irony or the shame has escaped me) and with the boys in the truck I begged Kevin to give me a boost. Very much a rule follower, he wanted no part of my breaking and entering, but alas, it just happened to be Mother’s Day, so as ruling Queen of the Day, I commanded a boost, and he was forced to oblige. He boosted me, and I climbed the rest of the way up and shimmied my way in through the window, while he high tailed it out of dodge so that both parents wouldn’t be hauled away to jail when the cops were inevitably called.
It was love at first five foot drop. The minute I landed on the inside of the house I fell in love.
I had drop landed in a bedroom.
Peering through the windows, before breaking and entering, I had thought that maybe I had won the lottery and gotten salvageable wood-ish floors, but that was immediately proven not to be the case. Inside it was obvious that the cheap laminate floors were in terrible condition . Peeling, chunks missing, planks coming up. They would obviously need to go. But as I walked through the house I didn’t care about any of that. I was too busy falling madly in love. The second I rounded the corner and entered the living room I knew that I would stop at nothing to get this house.
LIVING ROOM
Look at the repeating arch theme. LOOK AT IT. Oh Meryl, the things you do to me. I was in love with the arching fireplace. The brick columns. The archway to the kitchen. The beams (rudely painted white, but don’t worry- not for long). All the light. It is just flooded with natural light from the arched entry window to the patio door and flanking sidelights (the sidelights open, btw. Precious.)
Imagine that arched fireplace with a mantel over it. And imagine the built-in shelf modernized. I planned to add canned lighting and a modern ceiling fan. I would do light floors, picture an ashy Oak color. Heart eyes. I would paint the woodwork white (only because the woodwork was so dated. I think dark wood trim would look amazing in this house, but the graining and style of all of the woodwork screamed 70’s cheap), the walls I would paint gray, and the ceiling beams would become wood colored again.
The little pony walls chopping up the arch to the kitchen would come out, obvi (regards them with disgust).
KITCHEN AND DINING
The kitchen and dining layout was great. I loved the spot for the dining table in front of the huge window looking into the big, (what would be) beautiful backyard.
In the kitchen, the bank of upper cabinets over the peninsula would come out, and some pretty, globed pendant lights would go in above the bar. I knew that I wanted to do something a little different with this kitchen, (this was not meant to be an all white cabinet-ed, subway tiled kitchen, friends) I just wasn’t sure what yet.
HALL BATH
The hall bath is a Jack-and-Jill set between the two guest bedrooms, but with access to the hallway. And let me tell you, it was rough. Really in pretty terrible shape, actually. The only thing that I planned to salvage was the tub. Everything else hurt my eyeballs and my nose hairs and would be gutted and replaced with new. Please make haste and empty thyself, room.
MASTER BED AND BATH
GAHHHHHHHHH. I cannot stop buying bedathrooms. [Bangs head against wall] WHHHYYYYYY?! Have mercy on my ever loving soul, I swear to you, I do not secretly love them. I publicly loathe them. They just seem to be present in every single home that I buy. Which I suppose is a good thing because this brings me one step closer to my goal of eradicating them from the planet altogether. But OMG, if I have to stare into the soul of one more bedathroom, guys… So help me.
My plan in this room was obviously to make it into two distinct rooms, AS IT SHOULD ALWAYS HAVE BEEN.
I would also rip up all of the nasty floors and paint everything and do some really cool bathroom tile.
BEDROOMS 2 AND 3
The two guest bedrooms were really great spaces look how beautiful that front bedroom is with that huge arched window. The light in this room is just amazing. I would so call dibs on this room.
All of the flooring would be ripped up in these rooms and they would be painted a nice neutral color with white trim and some nice modern ceiling fans. Easy as pie.
THE BACKYARD AND POOL
The backyard is huge. The neighborhood is one of those nice, quiet, older neighborhoods where the houses sit back off the road a little on oversized lots. The homes and yards have all been well maintained. It’s pretty dreamy, and though this yard won’t be earning Yard of the Month in its current state, it has great potential to one day. In fact, it has all the potential under the sun.
This was my first time to delve in a pool on a remodel… and all of the troubles that come along with it. I mentally set aside a hefty chunk of my budget in preparation to repair this in-ground potential beauty with attached spa. Not pictured: all the tadpoles of the earth. A plague of tadpoles. (Side note: on a Bring Your Kids to Work Tuesday I had my boys with me, and my oldest fell into the tadpole infested cesspool, and I fretted for days over imminent death by cess-pool related dysentery. The fear was real, but thankfully he’s licked grosser things so ultimately he lived.)
The siding around the back window was all rotted out and would need to be completely replaced. The porch sagged in a couple of places and would need two posts set to lift it once again.
The yard would need a good deal of tree and vine clean up and the fence needed repair, but I had a solid vision of shining this penny up again.
I CAN’T WAIT TO MAKE HER PRETTY
So as I said, I was in love.
And so, as a result of that fierce love, I overpaid for her slightly. And by overpaid, I mean that I paid about $10,000 more than what I absolutely, firmly said, “I will not pay over X for this house. I just won’t do it!” [cringe] But like I said, I was a mad woman. Crazed. Fevered. I would stop at nothing to get this house. And even with paying more than I wanted, there was still plenty of room in the budget to make this house very very worthwhile…. right?? [She said nervously, trying to convince herself] This house was a great flip choice… if I can bear to part with it when the time comes. No, just stop. I can’t think about parting with her yet. 😭
This. House. Was. The. Worst.
We fought. Lawd how we fought. It fought me, I fought back. I went through entire periods of time where I disliked this house very much. Do you hear me, Magnolia House? (name is based solely after its street address, no affiliation to my besties Chip and Jo) I’m looking at you. I DISLIKED YOU VERY MUCH. There were times even that I wanted to hang up my brand new flipping hat and say peace out to this endeavor. Just strike a match and throw it over my shoulder and cut my losses. There were challenges big and small. Nothing- I mean NOTHING- went right or smoothly.
ONLINE AUCTION
The exterior of the house looked fine, cute even, with a big pretty tree in the front yard and all the shiny potential in the world. I saw no issues; no red flags arose to my optimistic and eager (blind) eye.
The windows didn’t offer great visibility inside the house, so I really and truly was going to have to bid on the house with the interior SIGHT UNSEEN if I wanted it.
But I was eager. I had gotten a taste for house flipping and I wanted more. I was hungry. I was fiending. I needed a fix.
So, on my cell phone, at a pho restaurant at lunchtime, with my kids in tow, over bowls of noodle soup and arguments over who touched whom with a chopstick, I bid. And I was promptly outbid. And so, never to be outdone, I bid again and again and again and again, and finally: I won. I was elated. Have you ever won an eBay auction item and your competitive nature comes out and you want to scream at your computer screen “YEAH! IN YOUR FACE! SUCK IT! I WIN!” Come on, that can’t just be me. You’re all big fat liars. Anyway, winning this house was a lot like that, and the victory tasted amazing.
I got it for a good price, and after comparing comps and establishing a fair asking price after repairs and renovations, I felt sure that I could do great things with this house and make a wonderful profit at that. It was going to be easy as pie. I can’t believe everyone doesn’t do this. Babies can flip houses in their sleep. And if they choose not to it’s only because they’re lazy. Lazy, lazy babies.
COME INSIDE WON’T YOU?
Things looked… not the greatest. I couldn’t put my finger on any one thing, but there was a smell, to begin with. (Feces? Human remains? Petrified Broccoli?)
Then I brought in people. And that’s when I really started to frown.People walked through and told me rude things.
Things like “not only does the roof needs to be replaced, but also the entire roof decking.”
Frown.
And, “plumbing leaks. Lots of plumbing leaks and water damage.”
Frown.
And, “see all of those black spots on the ceiling around the vents?”
Yes I see them, duh, but stop looking so closely at them. Someone obviously spilled something on the ceiling. All of the ceilings, and only where the vents are, and paint can cover that. Look away! You’re killing my buzz and I don’t like you.
“The furnace has at one time been on fire.”
Stahhhhhhhhp. Frown.
“Total furnace replacement.”
OMGeeeeeee FROWN. Grimace. Glower. Can my frown get any more down turned? I’m glowering at you now and I hope that it hurts you the way that you’re hurting me.
Dollar sign, dollar sign, dollar sign, all the dollar signs.
All the budget. So many things were WRONG with this house that my entire budget was having to be redirected toward UGLY THINGS. Like furnaces and roofs. I DON’T LIKE THOSE THINGS. I only want to buy pretty things! This isn’t how house flipping is supposed to go. I’ve seen the shows. I paint the things and pick out cute tile and make the things pretty and then I sell the house and become rich and buy myself a diamond grill and some chains and put spinners on my minivan, and that is all, that is the end. This is the way these things go. WHY ARE PEOPLE TRYING TO TELL ME OTHERWISE?
WHERE ARE ALL THE PEOPLE?
Add to the budget issues the fact that I couldn’t get workers to show up. That had all gone so smoothly with my first flip- which I completed in 5.5 weeks from beginning to end. This house, which was considerably smaller, took over 8 weeks to complete. So, basically all of eternity and half of a second eternity. My workers that I had used on my first flip had received a large increase in business and were struggling to keep up with their workload. Growing pains. There were many days where the house just sat with no one working. I would call. I would beg. All to no avail. And multiple times different trades would show up on the same day unexpectedly and they would leave because they were in each other’s way. [Steam comes out of ears]
When I did get workers to show up on the right days they sometimes… messed things up. Critical budget saving things. For example, the plumber ripped out the hall bath vanity that I planned to salvage. That I NEEDED to salvage. I also planned to keep the existing kitchen countertops which weren’t my favorite, by far, but were an inoffensive wood looking laminate that was so dated and out of style that it had come marginally back into style, or at least would be passable for “stylish” when I layered all my other kitchen goodness in there. They were damaged beyond repair when the backsplash was removed by workers. [Eye twitches] And then the plumber busted a line under the kitchen sink and the kitchen flooded AFTER flooring had been laid, so all of the kitchen flooring had to be ripped up and replaced. [Loses all semblance of remaining cool. Flips table, breaks a mirror, punches wall.]
HOLY BUDGET NIGHTMARE.
So, we were indeed in a sad state, myself and this house. The relationship was tumultuous at best.
In a money saving endeavor I bought a wall oven off of Facebook Marketplace and drove all the way to Henryetta, Oklahoma to pick it up after having multiple conversations regarding the precise dimensions of this particular unit. Three hours later I got it back to the house, and the promised dimensions were incorrect, and the oven did not fit. So I had to buy ANOTHER wall oven- bleeding my budget twice. [Eye twitches]
And then there was the unfortunate incident involving a worker backing into a neighbor’s car and fleeing the scene, and the neighbor coming to me threatening deportation of what she very wrongly assumed to be an illegal immigrant worker (full disclosure: I have zero bit of patience for this ignorant and assumptive attitude. I am rolling my eyeballs all the way up to my brain cells as I even recall and type this story out. I think I actually sprained my eye). I investigated and solved the mystery (Call me, First 48!) and lo and behold the culprit was in fact a legal Caucasian male. There was no deportation of innocents, but it was just ONE MORE THING with this monster house. [Eye twitch returns]
At this point was I even going to make a profit on this house when all was said and done, or was my second flip going to be a flop? Out of the ashes (because I wanted to burn the stupid house to the ground) would something new and living and pretty come… or just nah??? I was trying to prove to the world and myself that I could do this, but I was completely defeated.
It has been said that I lack self-confidence. Perhaps this observation should have left me feeling exposed, shaken, and seen. But instead it felt as banal and obvious a noticing as a description of the color of my eyes or hair. My lack of self-confidence is as much a part of me as my love for guacamole.
I have lived most most of my life feeling like the Man Behind the Curtain in Oz. When will I be exposed for the fraud that I am? In Chiropractic school I looked around most days and thought “I am not smart enough to be here; I am not skilled enough to be here.” Most days in practice I spent wondering why any patient would ever take me seriously and listen to my advice. I have worked out at the same gym for the past 8 years, but every day that I enter I think “today is the day that someone points out that I have no business being here.”
This new house flipping endeavor fell happily in line with my comfortable, organized, and well-practiced pattern of self-doubt. “I have no business doing this, and everyone knows that. I got lucky the first time around, but I’m so out of place in this world. I am a joke.”
Every obstacle that this house presented me, big or small, felt like an assignment to climb Everest handcuffed and with a broken foot. Every challenge only served to drive the point home that I was not good enough, that I would not succeed. Each challenge preyed on the ever present host of insecurities and self-doubt that I tote around with me in my little self-doubt backpack. The sum of all of the attacks that this house threw at me felt like a warning: “Get out now. Leave. YOU CANNOT DO THIS, but you already knew that about yourself.”
But here’s the funny thing: where I am lacking in confidence and any real skill, I was ironically “gifted” with determination. It’s an absurd and confusing pairing of personality traits. I can’t give up; I will dig in my heels and I will not give up. In fact, it became the butt of an exasperated, joking one-liner spoken to be my my mom throughout the course of my teenage years. When I would dig in my heels, in a fit of teenage girl angst, and lash out at her with my words, she would answer back, “YOU JUST DON’T KNOW WHEN TO QUIT, DO YOU?” And it’s true: I could challenge the Hulk to an arm wrestling competition, and I would snap my ever loving arm off, Lego-style, trying to win. It’s irrational and, at times, humiliating. Whatever horribly unattainable thing that I begin I cannot walk away from. I am my own personal Mean Girl and will berate myself the entire time, telling myself that this thing will not end well, and that I cannot do this thing, that I am not good enough. I will even ask God to let me give up, BUT FOR SOME REASON I CANNOT AND DO NOT GIVE UP.
But the house did not know this about me. It thought it could best me.
So, like I said- the house and I fought. We went round after round after round. It fought me hard.
But I fought back.
I found coupons. I scraped around for things on sale. I got bids and rebids and price compared and ran numbers, and then I did it all over again. I called workers daily, stayed on top of trades. This house consumed me, but IT WOULD NOT DEFEAT ME.
Eventually, after round and round of punches the house and I came to some sort of mutual agreement that we wouldn’t ever love each other, but we would respect each other.
It took 3,782 years to flip this wretched house, or 8 weeks if you want to get technical- whatever- and it came in at MAX budget, but it was complete. Praise Jesus, it was complete. And it was even pretty cute. She said begrudgingly and with a mountain of a chip on her shoulder.
Stay tuned later this week for the afters on the Magnolia Flip. We’ve earned them, dammit.
Here she is.
My family home. The home that I lived in from birth until age 19 when I moved out to be closer to my college campus, and of course the home that I returned to every weekend and holiday to visit my mom.
Built in 1968, it is your typical traditional ranch style home which is the most common architectural style for our region, and my parents were the original owners.
The Sunroom
The house, when built, was around 1600 sq ft, but my dad enclosed the porch and routed HVAC to it creating, by definition, a sunroom- although we just referred to this room as “the back room,” and in my lifetime it was used as our family computer room.
After the sunroom enclosure the square footage was brought up to 2050 sq ft. I’ve always loved the exposed brick wall back here and the bank of windows along the back wall that poured natural sunlight into the room. It was absolutely brimming with potential.
THE “BONUS ROOM”
But my dad didn’t stop there. The man couldn’t sit still. When I was in 5th or 6th grade he decided that our home’s ample attic space was a missed opportunity for a second story. So he transformed our single story home into a two story with his DIY addition of a 600 sq ft heated and cooled “bonus room,” before those were even a thing. I can remember this transformation happening and not thinking anything of it, wasn’t it perfectly normal for parents to add a story onto their homes…?
Check out those stairs.
This was all before HGTV and Pinterest and, gasp- the internet even, so he did all of this out of his own brain.
The upstairs was my domain. A clubhouse of sorts. That “stage” (which is raised to accommodate for the vaulting of the living room ceiling below) is where my band practiced. It’s true- if you thought I looked familiar all this time it’s because I was the rhythm guitarist- and for a stint the bass guitarist- in the wildly famous all girl band Aquarius, which was later renamed That Great Band after learning with palpable heartbreak that there was already a band called The Age of Aquarius. The band broke up in mid-high school citing artistic differences as the reason for our demise.
After purchasing the home but before getting started, I brought in two different home inspectors to inspect all of my dad’s handy work, and I was terrified. None of this extreme change was done to code, and I was certain that the entire upstairs would need to be ripped out and the ceiling patched up like it never existed. This would have broken my heart as I felt it would have deleted some relic of my dad’s legacy.
Against all of my expectations, when I brought in two sets of home inspectors they both said a version of “I WANT to hate this. Everything in me wants to say that this is bad and wrong and needs to be ripped out, but I actually kind of love it and have serious respect for your dad for doing all of this himself.”
The stairs, though steep, were all uniform in distance, head clearance was to code, joists were all present and accounted for. In that moment I felt an overwhelming surge of pride for my dad, and I had an intense desire and newfound motivation to make him proud of me in return by doing this renovation justice.
But all tenderness aside, there was some dated and ugly stuff in this house, guys. I mean.
ENTRY/FORMAL LIVING
Those posts “defining” the formal living room had to go. In fact the formal living had to go altogether. Nobody does formal anymore. “Please, won’t you come and sit in my well defined parlour and drink some tea. Let’s first, though, walk past the perfectly good couch and loveseat in my first living room to get there. Ah, yes, that’s much better. I’m exhausted from that walk and in great need of this tea.”
Yeah those dark, ugly, dated, and unnecessary posts had to GO. This room would become a study with a set of two sliding barn doors to give privacy if desired.
LIVING ROOM
The living room lacks any natural light as it has no windows of its own. To remedy that I would remove what was originally the sliding door to the patio, now an unused and cumbersome door to The Sunroom (I had of course taken to calling “the backroom” “The Sunroom” because it was about to become classy, so it might as well start acting the part.) This would become a large opening and would let in plenty of natural light. I also would paint all of the trim and the fireplace white to brighten it up majorly. Also, can we get some shiplap up in here? Mama needs some ‘lap. Out would go the bookcase to the left of the fireplace, in would go some shiplap in its place- picking back up on the other side of the fireplace.
What was the point of that pass through window to the kitchen with a doorway to just *walk* into the kitchen right next to it? That had to come out to open up the living room to the dining and kitchen. However, that wall was a load bearing wall, and a beam would need to be added to ensure that the house didn’t cave in. That would be sad.
KITCHEN
The kitchen just needed your typical cosmetic updates. Ivy wallpaper, you’ve seen your last days. Goodbye to you and your matching fruit border friend.
My mom had new granite countertops installed a few years ago before her memory really went downhill, and while they weren’t my personal first choice in color I knew that I could design around them and make them look intentional, saving beaucoups of money that desperately needed to be spent elsewhere.
LAUNDRY ROOM
The laundry room is HUGE, which was unheard of for a home of this era. It doubled as my mom’s sewing room, and I knew it would make a fantastic mudroom with all of that space and being right off of the garage. It had to have built in mud cubbies. I vividly pictured a young family coming home from school and hanging up their backpacks on little hooks in this room while kicking off their shoes and filling their mom in on their school day. MUD CUBBIES OR BUST.
HALL BATH
The hall bath had seen better days.
Can I start by saying that the ceiling in this hall bathroom dropped down to SEVEN FEET? Seven. For no reason. No other room in the house had a ceiling this low. The vanity counter was also weirdly low like it was custom made for preschool children to wash up their hands after finger painting and before snack time. What say we go ahead and make this room normal human sized?
Oh, and let’s 86 the mauve wall paint and matching mauve floor, the flower wall paper border, and while we’re at it the mildewed tile tub surround. That cast iron bath tub was quality though. It would stay. They don’t make ’em like that anymore.
MASTER BEDROOM AND BATH
Bless its heart.
WHY IS THIS FLOOR PLAN A THING? I need you to fully understand and feel my distaste. My brow is furrowed. Why would anyone ever think “You know what would be great? Having a sink IN the bedroom, 5 feet away from the bed where the wife is sleeping when the husband wakes up and brushes his teeth every morning and then uses his electric razor to shave his face. The noise will wake up the sleeping wife an hour before her alarm is set to go off and it will be fantastic. They will live happily ever after.” I AM FROWNING AT YOU, 1960’S ARCHITECT.
This would have to be fixed. And all God’s people said “let us give this blessed husband and wife a real deal bathroom with walls and doors and everything, Amen.” And so a wall would be built, separating the bedroom from the bathroom so that it would actually BE a bathroom, and a pocket door would be added to conserve space. Additionally the door between the vanity area and the shower would be opened up slightly to create the feeling of more space. Oh, and it would need a major attractiveness boost, obvi. All the things would need to come out of there and be replaced with new pretty things.
BEDROOMS 2-4
(I’m missing a picture of the fourth bedroom.)
The remaining 3 bedrooms were a good size- nice and spacious, with no real issues other than just needing paint and carpet and fixtures replaced. They would have their dated folding closet doors replaced for real hinged opening doors.
THROUGHOUT THE HOUSE
Throughout the house all of the floors would come up and be replaced with wood-look tile with the exception of the bedrooms (which would be carpeted) and the bathrooms (which would be tiled). The walls would all be painted a light, neutral gray, and all of the trim and cabinets in the house would be modernized with a fresh white paint. Much of the trim was damaged and would be replaced (all of the baseboards would wind up needing to be replaced) and a bedroom door that had an unpatchable hole and would also need to be replaced.
All of the light fixtures throughout the house would be replaced with stylish, modern looking ones, and all cabinet and door hardware would be replaced- hinges and pulls.
Additionally, the entire electrical panel for the house and much of the plumbing would need to be redone. This was not an expense that I budgeted for and this made me VERY SAD. The electrician said it was one of the worst electrical jobs he’s ever done. And my budget replied: “ouch.”
The exterior wasn’t bad. It just needed a few paint color tweaks and a good power washing as the garage doors and siding were both relatively new. And it of course needed landscaping, shutters and a new, adorable front door. And I had already decided that the front door had to be a minty blue-green.
I felt optimistic as I embarked on my journey. I had a reason to get up out of bed every day and put on clothes and leave my house. I had a purpose- something that was waiting on me. A commitment that was depending on me to see it through. I had an outlet to channel my sadness and heartbreak over the loss of the baby. I poured my confusion and frustration and anger into demolishing wood paneling and ripping wallpaper from walls. Sometimes tears of anger poured out of me as I ripped and tugged and freed the walls from their ivy patterned prison.
I spent time in prayer and also ample time talking to my parents in the many hours that I was there alone. I cried to the empty walls and to their memories, and I felt them there- in the place where I grew up, in the living room where my mom rocked me as a baby, under the second story that my dad had built by hand- surrounding me and loving me through it. It was there, in my empty childhood home, in the eleventh hour of my darkness and hurt, that I started to find a glimmer of something. A flicker of something on the other side of that dark place. A reminder that I was valuable, and the promise that something good was coming; something was changing.
Out of the ashes comes something living, something good and light; out of the ashes comes the promise of hope.
****Stay tuned next week, when I reveal what became of my childhood home after her dramatic updates!****