A Product of My Environment

Yesterday I was driving to pick up a mid century dresser for Eden to resell. I guess I've passed the baton. She seems to have the Midas touch. That phrase always makes me think of tire stores... So I mulled over the man's address while observing he had been the most laid back seller in all of history... More on that later. I thought "hm Terry St.! I bet that house is a hundred years old! What's the best way to get a tour? I know, I'll be reserved but enthralled." I pulled up to the craziest claptrap old house since D. Herbert and I would stake my honor, if he had been relegated to a townie life, I'm certain he would have lived in such a peculiar contraption. There seemed to be fences of various heights and materials running everywhere with holes cut in circles for apparently no reason. My eyes darted every direction trying to discern the purpose of all of these things. Why didn't I take pictures!? He grandly swept open the most ornately carved door I've ever seen on the tiniest little cottage imaginable and propelled me inside with pomp. He expected me to be amazed and yes I was but perhaps in not the way he anticipated. The little cottage had been hacked and chopped on, removing low ceilings, creating vaults and beams...an added entry room, walls were painted colors that made me flinch and knick-knacks galore. Strange knick-knacks, like head mannequins with wigs, a bucket full of ancient umbrellas, geckos and southwestern cacti, a magenta plush couch, all of the feathers from an owl in a glass case, a small rodent skeleton and of course a chihuahua locked in a bedroom because if he let her out she would "get me." Everything in my house falls into four categories; somebody's castoff, handmade, a gift or Jody bought it. So meeting this man in his strange little home comes naturally to me. I've bought thousands and thousands of dollars worth of stuff from all manner of people just like my father before me and his mother before him. He showed me the first dresser which was crammed so tightly with belongings that I felt a sinking dread. People, buyers don't want to see what's in your drawers... any kind of drawers. My mind calculated 10 minutes to unload that thing... no way. We moved on to the Kent Coffey piece I had actually come for and it was loaded to the gills as well. My heart sank. I told him I would take it and he spontaneously decided to give me a tour. I had tried to appear politely disinterested but he was oblivious. We did the tour. Apparently every owner in its history had tinkered excessively with it while keeping copious notes in a large leather satchel which was always passed to the new owner. The clock was ticking but he rambled on with inconceivable details finally coming close enough to me for a poof of alcohol to hit my nostrils. Every friend I have would have freaked ou about their vulnerable position alone in a house with an inebriated stranger. I didn't, but I did observe that must be why he was so chilI about me changing my pickup time three times. We all have fears but that one just isn't mine because I've always been more comfortable around men. I spent most of my childhood in the company of men and I know the bad ones. I drifted in and out of the monologue until he mentioned that an herbalist had once lived there and planted the whole yard in herbs... my ears perked up. We finally returned to the dresser and he slowly began unloading drawers. I strolled out to the front porch absently waiting and he brought me the first drawer. My eyes landed on a plant. And something started humming in my brain. 

"Do you think that's a comfrey plant!?" I asked very excitedly. I have always wanted my own comfrey plant so badly. 

"Probably so!" He answered.

His answer seemed too prompt and enthusiastic but I remembered his inebriated state. 

"Does it get little blooms?!" I asked hopefully.

"Sure it does" he said carelessly.

I felt like he was just telling me what I wanted to hear. I pulled up a pic of a blooming comfrey. "Like that?"

"Yes! Just like that!" He said. 

I inwardly rolled my eyes at his effusive tipsy behavior.

"Why? Do you want to dig it up?" 

"Yes! Can I really have it?"

"Sure!" A drunk man will give you the shirt off his back.

We loaded the dresser and he acquired a kitchen spoon to dig up the plant. Apparently he had already given his yard tools to his grown kids. We tried digging but to no avail. He went back inside and returned holding a buck knife with easily an 8 inch blade. He flashed it sheepishly and said "don't be alarmed by my tool, my son gave it to me as a present... He did two tours."

I laughed and said "just don't tell him you cut dirt with it. My brother is a knife guy too. 

In retrospect, I think most women I know would need smelling salts at this juncture but enormous hunting knives have always been a part of my life and it was only in the hand of a harmless happy guy. I would find a baseball bat more alarming. He handily dug up the comfrey and delivered it to my grocery bag and I came home with the happiest smile ever on my face. 

My night wasn't over, I still needed to go to Highlands Ranch. I had no anticipation for this. Highlands Ranch is just a maze of cookie cutter houses. I drove the hour there wishing I could still call my dad and chat him up about my escapade but alas he's far happier where he is and I don't wish him back for my pleasure. 

When I turned into the neighborhood I realized it was a gated community. That's not exactly common in Colorado though I have encountered it here and there. Then I saw a sign advertising new builds at three times the price of my house. I felt a little curious but not excited. When I pulled up at the house the most amazing chandelier I have ever seen was shining through a transom window above the front door. I sat and stared. I was in love. I rang the bell and she opened the door seeming unaware of her house but my thrill could not be contained. I was standing in the middle of a DWR catalog with five beautiful children milling around. I have been in a lot of houses. Probably 75 a year, but this house was flat out my favorite. Well, Tory Bond had a close second but only because her kitchen wasn't done yet. Had it been done that old 4,000 sq foot rambler probably would have won.

(Update 6-26-16 Tory sent me this 😍

https://www.houzz.com/ideabooks/55685315/list/my-houzz-fresh-update-for-a-midcentury-ranch-in-denver)

I've been counter shopping with some friends and that is one slab. Can you even imagine? It's like 8x12.

Look what she did here.

Isn't that fancy!? I love fancy things! 

She showed me the kids new computer area and I asked if she shares her ideas on Pinterest because it's just beyond fabulous. Her husband was rolling his eyes throughout. I could imagine his thoughts. "Oh no! A crazy lady came to buy the table at 8:30 at night and she's never leaving!" But his wife was so encouraging and gracious I guiltily tuned him out.

I got a little brazen and invited myself into her dining room with a hand made walnut dining table and clicked away.

I was basically delerious with delight and she made the mistake of saying "oh you have four kids? We would probably be best friends if you lived closer." Because we ARE best friends now. It's a done deal. Don't even joke about that amazing lady! 

Unfortunately I failed to take a decent picture of her entry light. But here's what I got. See her stair railing? Love it! 😍

All of her lighting was from Restoration Hardware, you know that magazine that I always embarrassingly drip drool on when it arrives? Her family room had this crazy... oh I don't know... 8 foot light fixture that looked like it had candles all the way around. I wish I had just clicked one more time... I felt like a horrible gawker... Click click click with my iPhone so although it looks like I was on a photo spree I DID try to hold back. Fun night. Oh, and I did buy her old table. I love it. 

This morning I emailed her to ask if I could blog my pics and she graciously acquiesced. Then I got a text from the comfrey guy wishing me happy gardening. They will always be my friends even if we never meet again. 💜

Addendum:

I got an email from my new BFF in Highlands Ranch (we chat all the time) and first of all, her husband is a GC and designs and oversees construction and remodels in all of "Denver's hip zip codes" (I'll be incorporating that phrase into my vocabulary stat) and he watched me make a total fool of myself over his house never mentioning it. I find this really admirable and funny all at once. She said they only went as modern as suburbia would go. Sigh. Apparently there's all of these amazing houses all over Denver that I will never see the inside of. My life is hard. She sent me pics of her new custom kitchen nook table because we chat all the time. 😉