When it comes to remodeling, I'd describe myself as a prenovice. Despite my "adorable little tool box" (Rob's words), I have no clue when it comes to tools, construction or home repairs. The condo I recently sold was a model unit, with brand new appliances and every upgrade in the book. I purchased a condo because - at the time - I preferred to pay association dues instead of worrying about maintenance.
I wish I had a photo of my parents' faces when they first saw Our Care-free Home. We're so impressed that you have a vision! It wouldn't be our choice, but good that you can see beyond [insert major home flaw here]. After all, my parents knew then what I know now - I was in wayyyy over my head. Add to that my recent major surgery, newly-launched side business and upcoming wedding... whaaaat was I thinking???
Fortunately, my dad (who, in partnership with his wife Karen, has completely transformed his hobby farm over the past decade+) is retired and has been helping pick up my slack. At times, given I work a 9-to-5 job, we are like two ships passing in the night - he the battle ship that accomplishes great feats during the day, me the puddle jumper that feels proud to simply get from Point A to B without breaking down.
Yesterday, after a weeklong doctor-required break from manual labor, I returned to the house and discovered a treasure trove of fatherly advice... left in the form of short notes, similar to those my dad has left me throughout my life. I'm lucky to have a dad that will give me good advice rather than bark angry orders when my painting technique is clearly terrible or I ruin yet another $15 paint brush. (Not to mention a future husband that doesn't freak out when I purchase more than $100 in custom paint in the wrong finish, but this blog post is not about you, dear).
So this post, dad, is in honor of you. Thanks for all the great advice, for your help and encouragement, and for bestowing upon me DNA that could see an architectural gem through the dirt and code violations . I love you.