This Old House

Too keep myself on track, or at least remotely inspired I subscribed to several old home/restoration/farmish/do-it-youself type magazines. The spring copy of This Old House came yesterday, and in it the editor was talking about a job he had to do at a relatives house. And he described the house as ramshackle. I immediately thought "Omigod, I think I live in a ramshackle house." At least, if This Old House was to walk by, they would call it ramshackle. I think I am going to embrace that word, and make it my own.

There is a wierd feeling I get when I get home late from work, all is dark, the kids are at their dads. My house looms. It is not even very big(!) 1900 sf or so, and it literally looms above me as I walk up. It is not an ominous looming, just a presence. As in, I have stood here at this spot for a dang long time and you gotta respect that, lady.
I cannot help but think how proud the original owner who built it must have felt. It seems BIG for its era of modest Poulsbo farmhouses, and the proud feeling I have of making this a home for my family has to be nothing next to the feeling of building it 106 years ago out of nothingness on empty logged dirt.