Scrape, Mud, Sand, Cry, Paint. Repeat.

So while Brian worked on the outside of our house, my job was the inside. Like most people, when first viewing our before photos, you may think there is very little work to do, but trust me when I say that the photos are extremely misleading.

I decided to begin with the bedrooms for a variety of reasons. First of all, I figured learning to scrape, mud, and sand walls would be a major learning process for me and if I were going to make mistakes I would rather have them in the bedrooms than in the front rooms. Also, the bedrooms appeared to need less work, and I really wanted to feel a sense of accomplishment sooner rather than later. Finally, we had most of our supplies set up in the front rooms, so the bedrooms were already empty and easier to cordon off then the front of the house. All in all, this was the right choice.

The first step in redoing the rooms was to decide whether we should start with the walls or the floor. The walls were lathe and plaster and had many, many, (so many *cry) cracks that would need to be fixed. The floors were absolutely covered in laminate glue and would need hours of sanding, staining, and sealing in order to be their best (if they would ever be their best, again). After reading different blogs and discussing options with the guys at Ace, we decided to start with walls.

Walls didn't seem like they were going to be that difficult. I knew they would be time consuming, since each layer of mud would need 24 hours to dry, but I thought I would have no trouble doing a step, or even two, a day (*oh, the innocence of the ignorant). Therefore my timeline was approximately 3 days a room, rapidly moving through the 5 steps for every crack: scrape, dust, tape, mud (repeatedly), sand. 

However, I quickly realized that those steps looked very different when I was performing them. And in reality, a room could take me a week, or even two. 

My steps were as follows:

Day 1: Scraping

1. Scrape out all cracks in just one room.
2. Feel that arm is going to fall off when you start ceiling. 
3. Realize ceiling has more cracks then all four walls combine. 
4. Sigh, repeatedly. (Not satisfying though, because no one hears your pain.)
5. Turn on a This American Life podcast and challenge yourself to finish entire ceiling by the time the episode is done. 
6. Repeat step 5 as many times as it takes to finish scraping ceiling.
7. Convince B to come help once it is too dark for him to work outside.
8. Celebrate the end of scraping (one room).

Day 2: Dusting/Taping

1. Vacuum/dust all debris out of newly scraped cracks.
2. Notice all debris is still in cracks. Try again.
3. Realize there is still freaking debris in cracks - curse at worthless shopvac, what is the point of stupid shopvac if it doesn't suck up debris?!?! 
4. Attempt dusting with damp cloth. (Youtube solution.)
5. Discover still more debris.
6. Determine that this is more of an optional step that you will now be opting out of. 
7. Take lunch break.
8. Begin placing joint-tape over cracks. 
9. Celebrate total mastery of this step.
10. Wish all steps were putting joint-tape over cracks.

Days 3-5: Mudding & Scrapping (1st, 2nd, and 3rd layers)

1. Slather mud (joint-compound) thinly over cracks. Do NOT mess up tape. 
2. When you do mess up tape, fight your tears, and apply again.
3. Let dry and scrape.
4. Slather mud over crack a second time. Spread it a little further out, but also keep it thinner so there is no hump.
5. Curse when small hump appears.
6. Curse again when you realize you have dried mud in your hair.
7. Let mud dry while you repeatedly wash hair.
8. Try to scrape down hump. Fail.
9. Repeat application of mud one more time, but even thinner. This may seem impossible (because it is), but this is what Youtube experts say to do. 
10. Pull trowel away from wall and admire. 
11. Experience admiration quickly turn to shock as you realize a small piece of invisible dirt was on your trowel and has now messed up all previous layers.
12. Get B to look at layers and tell you if it is as bad as you think it is.
13. Deal with tarnished layers. Embrace imperfection.

Day 6: Sanding

1. Lightly sand all layers.
2. Lightly sand, damn it! 
3. When you accidentally sand down to tape, realize you must mud again (all 3 layers!).
4. Go to kitchen, pour glass of wine, wander outside to watch B work, take deep breath, and return to room.
5. Re-mud.

Day 10: Done (Realize you are never done.)

1. Feel success that all cracks are now scrapped, mudded, and sanded. Room is ready to be painted.
2. Notice new crack. 
3. Cry. Let it out. 
4. Debate ignoring crack. 
5. Realize you'll never be able to forget stupid crack, if you don't fix it. Repeat all steps. 
6. Notice another damn crack. 
7. Tell B you're quitting and going to the bar.
8. Once at bar, watch a drunk, rather short, like we're talking 4 ft. woman, play recklessly with B's longboard until the bartender is forced to take it away from her.
9. Return home and ignore any new cracks that have suddenly appeared.

Day 12: Start again on the next bedroom room.

Eventually, after what seemed like an epic period of time, I managed to finish mudding the three bedrooms and it was time to paint. Painting was a breeze compared to the previous 5 steps. Although my arm was exhausted most days and my hair was completely white, I became quickly addicted to the paint sprayer and its smooth application. I also felt insanely hardcore, since I was wearing a respiratory mask, work gloves, and wielding a power tool. Hell yeah!

Finishing the painting was definitely a huge rush. Suddenly the rooms looked so fresh and new. All the cracks were hidden, even the imperfections, and I was gifted the feeling of accomplishment I had been craving since day 3. 

The final step of the bedrooms was to refinish the floors. We were nervous about beginning this step. Until we began sanding, we could convince ourselves that gorgeous floors existed under the layers of laminate glue, paint, and carpet nails, but once we actually began sanding, we would have to face reality. It was a nerve-racking time. 

After a short discussion, it was decided that B would do the actual sanding and I would be responsible for corners, hard to sand locations, and all other steps, beside using the orbital sander. We were really worried about the sander kicking up dust and ruining my perfect paint job, so I covered all the walls in the first room. (We quickly gave this up though, as there was little need.)

The first and second pass of the sander presented minimal change, but by the third pass gorgeous floors began to peak out and by the fourth or fifth passes we were ecstatic. The floors were better (and lighter) than we had ever imagined!

By the time B finished sanding the bedrooms, we could not contain our excitement. We were head over heels in love with our new floors. The final decision we now faced was choosing a stain. We went to the hardware store and bought a variety of tester cans. B wanted to go light - like ash colored or even white. I wanted to go a deeper pine or even a red. And, of course, we bought a dark stain too, just in case that would look best. 

We applied all of the stains to a piece of test pine and were disappointed across the board. None of the stains were a color we wanted. I argued for a clear coat. I loved all the different colors already in the floor, and I thought a clear coat might just bring them out in the way I imagined. B thought the floors were too yellow and feared that polyurethane would just make him like them less.

In the end though, he agreed to let me clear coat one room, since none of the stains were any better than my idea. The results of the polyurethane speak for themselves:

We loved them.

As I finished up each room, I granted myself a day of celebration. All throughout the painting, everyone had doubted my white walls. Some people thought I would never paint all the walls white, others thought I would do it and hate it, and still others simply thought it would look weird or bad. But in the end, I loved them. 

However, I am still me, and I still craved something different and unique, and so I decided to paint each of the doors to the bedrooms their own bright color. To make it easy,  I used the original wall color as inspiration. Therefore, the front bedroom, formerly magenta, received a pink door, the middle bedroom, formerly sea-foam, received a green door, and the back bedroom, formerly cream, received a turquoise door (because I hate cream and love turquoise).

The bedrooms were now complete and they were awesome. 

That Time a Guy Tried to Buy My Boots at the Grand Bazaar

The Grand Bazaar was massive - much, much larger than I had anticipated. In fact, when I later researched it, I learned that it had over 60 covered streets and 3,000 stalls. It really was grand.

And bizarre, too. (Nice play on words, right?) The shops and corridors were full of eclectic people, colorful goods, and enticing smells. I was sure I wouldn’t be able to take it all in, especially, in just the few hours we had available.

Jule had been here before though and knew exactly what she wanted. So, as soon as we stepped through the doorway, she was off, diving into the crowd, and I didn’t have time to get overwhelmed or distracted, as I scurried after her, determined not to lose her in the masses.

As we rushed down aisle after aisle, weaving through bags and bodies, on a mission to find Jule’s ‘Turkish towel guy’, I was amazed at the wide variety of goods available. Beautiful, stained glass lamps hung from the shops, rich, wool tapestries were draped over tables, and multitudes of ceramics were heaped in precarious piles all along the passageways - there was even a shop selling luxury saddlebags for camels. It felt like I could spend days in the bazaar and not get close to discovering all it had to offer.

The shopkeepers embraced the craziness of the market. They knew they had to stand out among the multitudes of people and products. And after years of practice, they each seemed to have their own signature strategy for capturing people's attention.

At first, wandering along, it sounded like the sellers were just hollering at the general public, but then, we began to realize that many of the lines were specific to Jule and I. Even more surprising, the lines often worked, causing us to stop and smile or even shop for a few minutes.

“Can I sell you something you don’t need?” one man shouted, laughing as he pointed to the many t-shirts hanging on his walls.

“That is a beautiful purse you have, can I show you one even better?” another man offered, motioning to Jule's purse.

“You are both very pretty. Shop?” said a third, managing to make the compliment sound sincere, even as he gestured to his wares.

Or, my favorite, a lamp dealer who caught my eye and asked, "Mets or Yankees?"

Smiling, I threw my fist in the air and cheered, "Giants! All the way!" but this was simply met with a head shake and a finger wag.

Some shopkeepers were less funny and more sleazy, though. One such guy, a tapestry dealer who had earlier shown us his gorgeous, handwoven merchandise, caught us on our way out. Stepping between us, he turned to face me and asked for a date - trying repeatedly to convince me to go to dinner with him.

When I said that I couldn’t, and explained that I was married, his face suddenly split into this giant grin. Taking a step back, he whipped his hands out of his pockets and wiggled his fingers just in front of my nose.

”Me too!” he shouted excitedly, “I'm married, too!” He flashed his gold wedding ring in the lamplight and jumped up and down, laughing. I wasn't sure what to make of this reaction, I guess I was happy we both had someone, so I just smiled and nodded and we continued on, just a little disconcerted.

A few minutes later, another, much more timid, man approached Jule. Sidling up beside her, he looked her over appreciatively and then hissed annn-gggeee-lllll in a way that sent shivers down both our spines.

But, the most confusing and captivating seller caught us just after we had successfully purchased our Turkish towels and were about to exit the market. As we walked past, deep in a conversation about how amazing our towels would feel, a man stepped out, grabbed my arm, and excitedly gestured to my short, black boots.

“Where did you get those boots?” he asked.

I smiled and said nothing, well used to the way this worked now. I knew that this was just a ploy to get my attention, and I also knew that we were in a hurry to get to the Blue Mosque before dark, so I thought the fastest way to deal with the seller would be to say nothing and let him move on to the next shopper.

He wasn’t so quickly appeased, though. “Those boots,” he tried again, “where did you get your boots? They’re very nice.”

I laughed and shrugged, honestly a bit confused. Why was he still asking? He already had my attention, was he serious?

“My boots are three years old," I responded, "I bought them at Aldo - a shop in Kuwait. I like them very much,” I added, half laughing, half trying to untangle myself from his grasp. Jule had wandered ahead by now and was looking in a ceramic shop a few stalls down.

“I like them, too,” he responded. “I will buy them, ok? I will buy them from you for a hundred euros. You will sell them? Right now - a hundred euros,” he said, letting go of my arm to enthusiastically motion at my feet again.

I gave an awkward laugh. He couldn't be serious, I thought, and anyway I had no other shoes, and I really loved my boots, but still, the offer of one hundred euros stopped me from responding too quickly.

“No,” I said slowly. “No, I don’t think so. I like my boots. Plus, they are my only ones. What would I wear?”

He shrugged, seemingly unconcerned with the plight of my feet. I began to wonder if he had some sort of bet with the other shopkeepers, like how long he could keep a tourist talking or if he could really convince a tourist to part with her shoes. There were a few people watching us now, and even Jule had returned to see what was taking me so long.

“No. No.” I tried again. “I think I will keep my boots. Thank you, though.” I smiled and laughed, reaching out toward Jule, hoping she could pull me away from this surreal conversation I seemed to be having.

The shopkeeper suddenly let out a huge belly laugh and threw his arms in the air.

“Okay, okay, you keep your boots. I would like them, but you keep them. Remember, I offered a hundred euro,” he said laughing. Then he turned, still laughing, and waved to his shop, “Would you like to come in?”

I had to laugh, too, but politely declined. I wasn’t sure what would happen if I entered his shop. It was quite possible I would end up selling all of my belongings to him, or maybe, buying all of his. He was a smooth talker and I was already deeply confused.

Jule started down the aisle and I turned to wave goodbye, still not sure what had just happened. Had I really just passed up a chance to sell my old boots for one hundred euro? And what would he have wanted with them anyway?

This last question would provide hours of good fodder for a feisty fetish conversation later that night.

Before & After: Our Bedroom

I have always been a small bedroom type of gal. I like my bedroom to be just for sleeping and napping and chilling. I like it to be a serene, quiet place where no one will go unless they also plan to be silent. Luckily, B feels similarly.

When we first moved in to our apartment, our bed was located in a room that had a bathroom connected to it. This was my first time sleeping in a bedroom with a master bath and I quickly realized I hated it. Is there anything more embarrassing than having to use the bathroom in the night and wondering the whole time if your sleeping significant other is actually listening to you tinkle? And don’t even get me started on other bathroom possibilities. Yuck.

So when I began to rearrange and redecorate our apartment, I began trying to think of ways to make that bathroom off limits. But B’s practicality always prevailed…

Me: Let’s just shut that door and NEVER use that bathroom.

B: But that toilet has the most powerful flush.

Me: Yuck. Well, then fix the other two toilets, so we can shut that door and NEVER use that bathroom.

B: The toilet across the house is fixed, but it is too far away to walk to in the night, in the dark, when we have a toilet RIGHT HERE. (Gestures to toilet that can be seen from bed.)

Me: But that’s the problem, it is RIGHT HERE. (Now I gesture, but construing it as a negative thing.)

B: Seriously, babe, I am not going to walk across the house when I stumble out of bed at 2 in the morning. If you don’t want to see or hear me, then you are going to need to move our bed away from the bathroom. (He shrugs and leaves me to my plans.)

But honestly he had just given me a genius idea; I could move the bed into the office room. The office room has one small window and four walls. No bathroom, no noise and just large enough to fit one king size bed. Perfect.

Thus began the redecorating of our bedroom. First I replaced the curtains, because I genuinely hate mustard yellow – it is in my top 5 most hated colors ever. Next, I painted the walls gray – which I loved. It gave the room a very mellow vibe, good for sleeping, napping and relaxing. I decided to keep the walls mostly empty, except for right above the bed, where I created a small gallery wall of prints we had collected throughout our travels that year.

I hung my first ever shelf and placed a few books, a candle and vase upon it. The room looked great. I was so proud. Then B’s practicality came walking in.

B: You hung a shelf full of breakable things directly above where I sleep.

Me: I totally did! All by myself! Doesn’t it look great?

B: (Tugging on shelf.) It looks dangerous. Like it might kill me in my sleep. Is this screw stripped?

Me: Maybe. I messed up a bit, but it’ll stay up there.

B: (Lifting heavy vase.) This looks heavy. Seriously, are you trying to kill me? Why would you put glass candles and a heavy vase directly above my head?

Me: Stop worrying. And because it looks pretty. And it does look pretty. Admit it.

B: Yes, it looks nice. (Smiles.) Want to bet how long it takes the kitten to break everything on that shelf by dropping it on my head?

Me: No.

The final additions to the room were a standing mirror and a banner from our wedding. I hung the banner on the wall we would wake up to every morning. That way we could be reminded of our “much love”. I placed the mirror in the room because we have a very vain cat, and I knew she would love spending hours curled up on the corner of the bed, basking in the sunlight, admiring her beauty. And she does. That is basically where she spends the majority of her time now. (But, of course, she is a cat, so when I wanted a photo of it she hopped off and walked casually away -  such a very "cat" thing to do.)

Except for every Saturday morning, when she jumps on to the shelf above B’s head and drops books, candles and plants on him. Turns out we were both right: the shelf is dangerous, many things have been broken, but nothing has killed him, not yet.

Before: Our Apartment in Kuwait

It was recently pointed out that I have never really given a “before” home tour of our Kuwait apartment - the way it looked when we arrived. Since I am planning to do a “Before & After” of each room, I thought it might be fun to show where it all began.

The great/terrible thing about teaching abroad is that more often than not your salary includes a "furnished" living space. The great thing about this is that you don't have to try to find a place to rent in a foreign country where you may know little to none of the language (you also don’t have to pay rent). The terrible thing about this is that you have no choice in the matter, you get, what you get and you don’t, throw a fit. End of story.

B and I were very lucky upon moving to Kuwait. Since we were married we were eligible to live in the ‘family’ building and since we were hired early we received an apartment near the top of the building. Therefore, we walked into an 11^th floor, 3-bedroom, 3-bathroom apartment. It was huge. I thought we would never fill it. (Oh, how wrong I was.)

It came “furnished” with some essentials: a bed, two end tables, a couch, a loveseat, a chair, a (gorgeous) dining room table, two dressers, a coffee table, a TV stand (no TV), an oven, a fridge, a washer, and some cupboard space. Beside the bed and the table, everything was very mismatched and showed its age.

The furniture was situated throughout the house so as to give you an idea of what room was what. The dining room table was located as you walked in the front door, the kitchen was located down a hallway past that, as was the laundry room and a bedroom with a bathroom.

The other half of our large living space held the couches, end/coffee tables and TV stand. Beyond this space, was a room identical to the first bedroom, but with a bed in it, there was also a guest bath and a small room at the end that became known as the office. There were no closets in any of the rooms but there were these five ginormous, ugly, but practical, wardrobes.

The absolute best part of our apartment was the view. One wall of the living room was floor to ceiling windows. It was awesome. Even with the construction, the apartment buildings, the roads and the smog, the view was fantastic. Even better we could see the sea touching the sky. This view became the inspiration for the living room. I wanted to bring that sense of endlessness into our space.

The absolute worst part of our apartment was the color. Everything was a version of tan. The walls, the floors, the couches, the pine furniture, the curtains, it was like drowning in sand. I understood the logic, tan doesn’t show the sand that coats everything, but I knew I couldn’t live in this sea of tan. I needed color.

And so began the transformation…

If you like this post, then check out:
How to Make a House a Home
Before & After: My Craft Room
Before & After: Our Bedroom