I've received many requests from both of my loyal blog readers to post some interior pictures of the house that we rented in
Lynnwood during our first six months in Washington. As described in realtor lingo, "this suburban cottage is delightfully cosy and full of character". Translation: "This joint's so tiny there's not enough room to blow your nose without going outside." In particular, you couldn't open the dishwasher, oven or fridge in tandem without having a major collision. The "full of character" part was spot on though.
There were little nooks and crannies all over the place for us to display our
objets d'art, and there were really cool windows in the living room. We've always called it our little dollhouse since it was so tiny and compact. It was the character that made the coziness tolerable...I actually miss that place quite a bit. I also loved how the master bedroom was the
entire upstairs (there were no hallway or doors, just our bedroom), and the bathroom had a neat skylight. I was always a little nervous in that bathroom for fear that I would be spied upon by astronaut perverts. You can't tell me there's no such thing as astronaut perverts...remember the diaper driving incident?
By far, the finest feature of our little dollhouse was the great big exposed attic above the Master Bedroom. We were able to store all of our non-displayables up high and out of the way...the only problem was that there was no way to access the space. We had to buy an 8-foot ladder to get up there (that's the green line on the right side of the picture), and we
sweat away many evenings trying to haul heavy boxes up the ladder and into the attic. Of course, by "we" I mean "Randy", who we always con into helping us out when moving. Randy is blessed to be about 9 feet tall, so he always ends up putting stuff on high shelves for people. Avoiding having to help people move is the reason that I maintain my pygmy-like height. For this same reason I doubt that I will ever be the owner of a pick-up truck. Although, having a pick 'em up truck would have proved very beneficial when trying to get that 8-foot ladder home. Over our 6 years of marriage, Sara and I have have managed to cram many pieces of furniture into our passenger cars, and the giant ladder was no exception. I got that sucker into
Nermal, my Honda Civic, and was still able to shut all her doors and windows. To this day, I continue to tell this story at dinner parties and award
ceremonies.
I was sorting through the pictures of our little house, looking for those few photographic gems that could be deemed
blogworthy, when I came across this one of the little bathroom downstairs. Check out how cool Zoe's potty poster is! During those dreaded few months of potty training, Sara drew a giant incentive poster of Elmo on Zoe's shoulders and she (Zoe) got to put a sticker somewhere on the page
every time she had a successful potty venture. Aside from the creepiness of being observed by a
muppet while in the bathroom, this ended up being a great idea thought up and brought to pass by my perfect little wife. I bet none of your kids had a personalized Elmo potty poster! I'm also very proud of my wife for having always decorated our bathrooms with Van
Goghs.
I've received many requests from both of my loyal blog readers to post some interior pictures of the house that we rented in Lynnwood during our first six months in Washington. As described in realtor lingo, "this suburban cottage is delightfully cosy and full of character". Translation: "This joint's so tiny there's not enough room to blow your nose without going outside." In particular, you couldn't open the dishwasher, oven or fridge in tandem without having a major collision. The "full of character" part was spot on though. 
There were little nooks and crannies all over the place for us to display our objets d'art, and there were really cool windows in the living room. We've always called it our little dollhouse since it was so tiny and compact. It was the character that made the coziness tolerable...I actually miss that place quite a bit. I also loved how the master bedroom was the entire upstairs (there were no hallway or doors, just our bedroom), and the bathroom had a neat skylight. I was always a little nervous in that bathroom for fear that I would be spied upon by astronaut perverts. You can't tell me there's no such thing as astronaut perverts...remember the diaper driving incident?
By far, the finest feature of our little dollhouse was the great big exposed attic above the Master Bedroom. We were able to store all of our non-displayables up high and out of the way...the only problem was that there was no way to access the space. We had to buy an 8-foot ladder to get up there (that's the green line on the right side of the picture), and we sweat away many evenings trying to haul heavy boxes up the ladder and into the attic. Of course, by "we" I mean "Randy", who we always con into helping us out when moving. Randy is blessed to be about 9 feet tall, so he always ends up putting stuff on high shelves for people. Avoiding having to help people move is the reason that I maintain my pygmy-like height. For this same reason I doubt that I will ever be the owner of a pick-up truck. Although, having a pick 'em up truck would have proved very beneficial when trying to get that 8-foot ladder home. Over our 6 years of marriage, Sara and I have have managed to cram many pieces of furniture into our passenger cars, and the giant ladder was no exception. I got that sucker into Nermal, my Honda Civic, and was still able to shut all her doors and windows. To this day, I continue to tell this story at dinner parties and award ceremonies.
I was sorting through the pictures of our little house, looking for those few photographic gems that could be deemed blogworthy, when I came across this one of the little bathroom downstairs. Check out how cool Zoe's potty poster is! During those dreaded few months of potty training, Sara drew a giant incentive poster of Elmo on Zoe's shoulders and she (Zoe) got to put a sticker somewhere on the page every time she had a successful potty venture. Aside from the creepiness of being observed by a muppet while in the bathroom, this ended up being a great idea thought up and brought to pass by my perfect little wife. I bet none of your kids had a personalized Elmo potty poster! I'm also very proud of my wife for having always decorated our bathrooms with Van Goghs.
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