I feel I should do a better job of explaining what we are writing about here. Looking back over previous posts, I realize it’s totally unclear what’s the deal. So here it is. Casey and I are furniture makers, collectors, oddity appreciators. We met and have been living in Los Angeles for several years. We decided the city was grinding us down. The rent was high, there were no seasons, we hated smog, and having to watch people poop on the street. Also, we are both originally from the east coast. So we started looking around at real estate on the east coast that we could afford (i.e. fallin
g down rat-traps with no roof or windows). Pictured at right is one such option. We opted not to go with that one.
So, after awhile, and some help from a growing group of amazing friends and supporters, spearheaded by the incredible Gina Fox, we got into negotiations on a big old abandoned house by a creek on Hollow Rd. The house had not been lived in for 15 years (as far as we knew), was in an estate with a bunch of heirs who couldn’t necessarily agree, and was a grand old project. For sale as-is (i.e. take it or leave it, warts and all, don’t bother with inspections because nobody is going to fix anything that’s wrong with the house. It’s all on you. Take it or leave it). Needless to say, we took it.
That was in August. August 16th, to be precise. We closed on this house, and our the promise of major change in our life was sealed. The very same day, we got to the house and started clearing out, organizing, and really figuring out what we had bought, and what we could afford to do on our shoestring budget and what we would have to do (and figure out how to do ourselves).
There’s been some earlier posting on the topic of that first day after closing by both of us, so I won’t belabor the point, but needless to say, we spent a rodent-dropping filled week, piling crap in two dumpsters, and trying to figure out whether we had a working well and viable electricity, before hightailing it back to LA to pack and actually move.
We wound up renting two, count ’em two 24′ moving trucks to fill with our own crap to refill the house with – that includes a big complement of wacky cast iron wood working machines and almost a decade’s collection of various bits of lumber, and live edge trees, to say nothing of our personal effects.There’s a lot of that too.
We drove cross country in these behemoth trucks for about 5 days.
Over the Rockies (maybe not the smartest route), praying and hoping not to get pulled over and fined by state troopers for having too much weight in the trucks, and arrived (as we left) at about 9 at night on the damp evening of September 13th.
The good news was, in our absence, the electricity had finally been turned on. So when we unloaded the mattress from the maze of belongings (that mercifully seem to have survived the whole bone rattling trip with almost no casualties) we could see well the mud puddle it fell in by the light of the kitchen window. That was our first night sleeping in the house. We haven’t looked back since.