Tag: Via Corona

First things first.  This is a dumb post.  Despite multiple attempts to photograph and even film this baby over the last couple of months, I just can’t seem to get off a decent snap.  I’d like to blame the lack of natural light.  Or how narrow the space is between units.  But as I prove on a weekly basis, the photographic deficit really lies with the picture taker (at least I’m consistent).

Luckily, the fact that I failed spectacularly at capturing the essence of the Ms. Closet has done nothing to damper my enthusiasm for it.

As you might recall from the plans, we created this modest walk-in by leveraging back-to-back reach-in closets and an additional 18 or so inches from Tom’s office.

Custom closet fittings were never in the budget but luckily my enthusiasm for putting together Ikea furniture was.

I’d like to be able to say I built the entire organizational system myself.  But, when the instructions on the Ikea Pax system showed me that it would take two garden gnomes to put the frames together, they were actually serious (this time).  After building three–yes THREE of the frames and then realizing they would not fit assembled into the closet, I begrudgingly admitted defeat and called in Tom to help.  He was super duper enthusiastic.  As with any project TD and I take on together, while ultimately successful, the blood, sweat and tears left in our wake could qualify the Ms. Closet as a crime scene.

Once those frames were up however, it was all me.  All in, I built and installed 14 stationery and pull-out shelves, 15 drawers, 2 units for shoe storage and a necklace gallery (ooh la la).

I love this space.  And not only because even at this writing it remains the only finished room in Via Corona.

I told you this is stupid.  However, the Ms. Closet, like most of our endeavors related to Via Corona reminds me of a quote delivered by the late, great Leslie Nielson in the cinematic masterpiece, The Naked Gun: “It’s a topsy-turvy world, and maybe the problems of two people don’t amount to a hill of beans. But this is our hill. And these are our beans!”

Our hill.  Our beans.  Indeed.

See what I did there?

TD here.

Have we mentioned that the previous owner was a tile layer (tile setter?  tile mason?)?  We have?  Multiple times?  Well,  as you can see, there was no shortage of his chosen medium in the master bathroom (or anywhere else in the house for that matter).

No doubt the work was beautifully done, but the space was poorly used.  In fact, the shower was so small that the one time I tried it out, I knocked nearly everything down just by turning around.  Picture Andre the Giant in a phone booth.  In their defense, the couple who previously owned Via Corona topped out at about 5’3″ each.  So, the shower probably felt cavernous to them.

While we’re on the subject, allow me to say this about tile.  Tile is vile.  Not only do you have to determine the color of your tile, but also the material, size, shape and pattern. The makers of tile (BIG TILE if you will) greatly overestimate my interest in their product.  And have I mentioned that every piece of tile looks exactly like every other piece of tile?  Or that tilers?  Tile smiths? get paid like drug kingpins?  Pablo Escobar had a smaller profit margin.

Luckily, Shannon relieved me of my tile showroom duties, patiently listened to my vague ideas of what I might hypothetically like if I cared and then took care of the rest.  All I know is that shot in the dark I took just to get her off my back was expensive.  Like it should have a street value expensive.  Who knew I had such good taste?

Take a gander below at the old layout of the master bath.  What you are not seeing in the drawing is  the commode, which was strategically placed right next to the window for maximum visibility to and from the street.

And below you’ve got the new layout.  Double sinks, ginormous shower and a throne that, while still near the window, is now somewhat hidden.  We’ve opted for a street view of the shower rather than toilet.  Discerning taste and all.

Originally this is also where we were going to install a pocket door with which, God help me, I have an unnatural fascination.  Alas, budgets (I’m looking at you, tile) and construction realities necessitate a standard (read: boring) swinging door will be installed in its stead.  Goodbye pocket door.  We hardly knew ye.

On the plus side, let’s take a look at this shower, shall we?  We’re talking wall to wall here.  Giant rainfall shower head above.  Handheld doohickey to the side.  Rest assured I will likely never use the handheld for its intended purpose, unless that intended purpose is turning on all available outlets full blast and pretending I’m the captain of a submarine that’s been hit.  In that case, I will use it as intended both frequently and religiously.  At least until Shannon catches me, reminds me that California is in a state of drought and walks off shaking her head and murmuring something about being raised on a five-minute shower. Killjoy.

I will readily admit that, when it comes to design and aesthetic, the best I can hope for are small victories.   Typically the answer to most of my suggestions is, “that’s not the look we’re going for here.”  For my Midwestern friends, this is akin to “bless his heart . . . ”    With most of my suggestions, Shannon sees me coming down Broadway with the doors open.   I propose a thing or two – some real ideas and some because annoying her is fun – then I sit back and see what the network censors will allow.

Tangent Alert!  This strategy all started in the run up to our wedding.  Once I told a particularly snooty wedding planner-type that I wanted molded butter in the shape of Yoda’s head.  Suffice it to say I didn’t get the Yoda heads (although that would’ve been boss) but I knew I’d found a solid running mate when Shannon played it totally straight while the wedding plannery-person clutched her pearls in horror.  Its the little things.

So, here I sit with what will be a rainfall shower head and some jazzy-looking woven tile on the floor (Did I mention that tile costs more than 4 years at SIU?).  Puts my record at about 2-726 on this particular project, but, as I say, small victories.

So, there you have it.  I’m sure Shannon will, do a deep dive on the  greater gravity, influence and significance of her design choices and how the space will evoke a spa-like elegance and an uncommon tranquility when tied together with decorative soaps and accent towels that I will never, ever be allowed to use.

As with everything in our marriage, Shannon plays chess.  I play checkers.  Works for me.

Shannon here.

First, we have never had nor ever will have towels, soaps, dishes, blankets or other home goods that are not allowed to be used. We’ve never owned an accent towel.  There are things that have certain purposes and using them for purposes other than those is frowned upon.  But everything gets used.  TD is confusing me with a Blondie cartoon.  Or maybe June Cleaver.  Or more likely, he’s simply assigned an antiquated belief about gender stereotypes because he thinks it sounds funny.  Whatever.

So.  Dude knows about the marble basketweave tile for the shower floor and the size of the shower.  That’s about it.  I’ll fill you in on the details.

In addition to the 24 square feet of marble basket weave tile, we’ll also add  6X24 inch marble tiles to the shower walls and wide charcoal porcelain tiles for the floor.  To take the edge off of what started to feel a little bit like a granny’s bathroom (classy, but granny), we’ll use  contemporary fixtures and some walnut accents.  Finishes in polished chrome.

And a shower timer. Remote controlled.

Want to read more about our renovation adventures? Go here: Via Corona

Ah, the powder room.  That one room in the house where denizens of wanna-be designers get a little jiggy with it.  Your host is no exception.

Tucked away between the foyer and the kitchen,  this little room was an oddly-sized masterpiece of unnecessary tile.  Like its upstairs siblings, it also possesses an unfortunately placed window.  Or maybe that was just an excuse to install those super-fly metallic brown and pink curtains.  I’ll let you be the judge.

The layout won’t change much.  We’re trying to steal four linear feet from side that shares a wall with the kitchen (vanity side), taking the once palatial 6X4 space to a cozy 5X4.  It’s a powder room, there are very few things a person needs to do in here so why waste space–especially if it means more room in the kitchen?

Just have to throw in another shot of how terrible this space looked after demo.

Design inspiration for this bathroom began with a single sink and console made by the Italian company Antoniolupi via the blog Le Femme du Bucheron .  How gorgeous is this piece?

Seriously.  Go back and look at it some more.  Or maybe you shouldn’t.  Sometimes, it’s liberating to know that having to ask how much  means it ‘aint in the budget.

But, I like a good challenge, especially one born of inspiration.

Eventually, my research lead me to this very well priced sink and console by Duravit (in distressed oak rather than the walnut pictured here).  Not quite as elegant or sexy as its Italian counterpart, this German piece of furniture is spare and efficient while keeping the feel of the Antoniolupi console.

I’m still patting my self on the back for this find.

Originally I wanted to do the wall facing the hallway (and where the sink and toilet will call home) in floor to ceiling encaustic tile.  However, no matter how fantastic it looked in the pictures, I couldn’t get the idea to sit right in my gut.

Right before hitting send on the tile order, I decided to attempt one more look around for an alternate.  I’d dabbled a bit with in wallpaper but previous forays found me  quickly overwhelmed.   This time I got lucky.  When Abigail Edwards’ Seascape paper popped up in my search results, all three cherries lined up and  bells went off in the design portion of my brain.

Subtle nod to Via Corona’s location?  Check.  In line with the neutral and black scheme I have going?  Check.  Edward Gory inspired?  Bonus check.  In stock at Walnut Wallpaper  in Hollywood meaning I didn’t have to pay  $40 in shipping?  Check.

Black fixtures including a cool wall sconce, towel hook (remember, there is only one rack in this house and you can’t hang towels on it) and TP holder by  Onefortythree round out little party.  I mean potty.  Wanna come over Mickey?

I know I’m a cliche.  People like to get a little frisky in the powder room because the stakes are low.  And I’m no different.  And now you know my idea of frisky.

Next week TD will bring you the master bathroom.

Well.

He’ll bring you the lead-up and I’ll deliver the plans.  I’m pretty sure he has no idea what it is supposed to look like when it’s done.  Styletatorship has its privileges.

P.S. Somehow that haute couture mirror in the original powder room was saved in the demo.  We’d be more than happy to donate it.  Perhaps Sotheby’s would be interested.

Want to read more about our renovation adventures? Go here: Via Corona

TD here.

Marvelous Marvin Hagler is one of my favorite boxers of all-time.  Left-handed, relentless, great chin.  Head like a giant Milk Dud.  He reigned as the middleweight champion (that’s 160 lbs.) for almost seven of my formative years in the 80s.

He was also famous for wearing this super awesome (if not grammatically challenged) sleeveless t-shirt you see above emblazoned with his mantra: destruction and destroy.

Now that I’ve lost a good 50% of readers, let’s talk about my own little destruction and destroy mission this week – getting rid of the dopey river rock clinging onto Via Corona’s exterior like so many barnacles.

As with all things Via Corona, intrigue lies around every corner, or under every rock as the case may be.  At times she reminds me of a song my Dad used to sing:

“Same song, second verse.  Could be better, but it’s gonna be worse.”

Case in point, earlier in the week, a few bashes with a mere mortal hammer revealed that the river rock facade was actually covering . . . wait for it . . . a brick facade.  Belt. . . meet suspenders!

Quite literally any numbskull can swing a hammer and blow a rock to smithereens (as I’ve proven), but can any numbskull rent a 20 lb. demolition hammer to speed the plow?  Well, it turns out the answer to that question is also yes, provided said numbskull has a drivers license and like $70 bucks.  (Not really even sure the license was mandatory.)

Anyway, 20 lb. Makita mini-jackhammer to the rescue!  Or so we thought.

(Note:  the product above has some kind of side handle apparatus.  This was not a part of my rental unit.  I relied on what’s commonly known as Death Grip.)

The mini-jackhammer caper is actually an adventure in two parts.

First was the part where the stupid river rocks were affixed to stucco.  This was the case for about 10% of the job. Those rocks slid off like Via Corona’s exterior the French in battle.  They offered little resistance and were all too happy to cede their homeland, which was, in this case, a lustrous mint green (yes, mint green) stucco.

The second part, where the accursed river rocks were affixed to brick?  Those were more akin raising a small child (I surmise) – relentlessly challenging, occasionally impossible, intermittently rewarding, and the end result looks different than what you imagined but hopefully you didn’t screw it up so completely that it’ll refuse to take care of you when you’re too old and jacked up to do it yourself.

Now, if all of the hated river rocks had been of the vichy variety, the job would have taken about three hours tops – but Via Corona is a diabolical mistress.

It took nine hours.

Even Kendrick Lamar on Spotify crapped out at the seven hour mark.  Et tu, Kendrick?

In hindsight, this probably should have been a two-day job, but I only had a 24-hour rental and when the clock is ticking you’re duty-bound to swing it in the morning . . .  and the evening . . . all over this land.

Destruction and destroy, indeed.

I believe it’s key in any home improvement project is to add a level of complexity that borders on the ridiculous.  Bonus points of it’s dangerous.  For the 20 lb. demolition hammer adventure, we added a ladder (thanks, Tom P.) and two gawky teenage juniper bushes (you see me taunting one in the photo below).

The ladder assured just the right amount of instability when hoisting an awkward, vibrating power tool overhead.  The juniper bushes, while making me otherwise thirsty for a gin and tonic, were mostly just in the way.

We fixed that . . . eventually.

In case you’re wondering (or scoring at home), I only had one “unscheduled dismount” of the ladder.  It was fairly early in the process and I held on to the hammer all the way through the landing.  With the degree of difficulty, it was easily a 10.0 if not for the Russian judge.  Your move, Simone Biles.

As in all things, the day wouldn’t have been nearly as enjoyable, complete or frankly necessary without The Misanthropic Hostess herself.  She placed the rocks in pristine piles in the unlikely event House Beautiful sends a photographer for their Gobs of Useless Rocks edition.  She also hobnobbed with the neighbors (who pleasantly and repeatedly reminded us that cheap labor can also be found at Home Depot), made sure I stayed hydrated and generally kept me from dying which was, and is, appreciated.

In the final analysis, the wall actually looks worse without its ludicrous rock overcoat, but in the fullness of time, and with a new coat of stucco and/or HardiePlank siding, TMH has promised that it will look (and act) like a home.

She hasn’t been wrong yet, but in case she is, I think we can learn a thing or two from Marvelous Marvin Hagler after his controversial loss to Sugar Ray Leonard in 1987.

He moved to Italy.

Finally, since this blog is mostly about recipes, here’s mine:

Want to read more about our renovation adventures? Go here: Via Corona

…you know, Beauty and the Beast is probably my least favorite in the Disney princess franchise.

My favorite?  The Jungle Book (in the original).  I know it’s not right to anthropomorphize animals. And, don’t get me started on the geographic misrepresentation of fauna.  But man, who doesn’t like a scatting orangutan?

Anyway .  . .this post is a joint effort.

Currently, Via Corona doesn’t look much different than she did a couple of weeks ago.  We’re at what TD calls the John Cazale Stage of the renovation – it’s the necessary stuff that no one notices because it isn’t super sexy – you know, plumbing, electrical, and the like.

TD here.  For the uninitiated, John Cazale appeared in five films in six years, all of which were nominated for the Academy Award for Best Picture.  The Godfather, The Conversation, Godfather Part II, Dog Day Afternoon and The Deer Hunter.  Cazale wasn’t the star of any of those films, but he did a ton of heavy lifting in each.  Can you imagine Michael Corleone without Fredo?  Of course, you can’t.  (Except Shannon can because she’s never seen the Godfather. There’s something wrong with her.)  So, here we sit with new copper plumbing, LED can fittings and a freshly hot mopped shower.  Fredo stuff.  RIP John Cazale.

Lacking anything cool and new to show you,  we’ve got plans.  Literally.  Starting with the guest bath.

At the top of the stairs just off the linen closets, the original layout of the guest bathroom was pretty unfortunate.  Like a limo with a hot tub: long, narrow and inefficient.

It also hid some of the most hideous wallpaper in history, which is saying something in the storied history of wallpaper.  Actually, last week we found new wallpaper in the ceiling of the powder room–that stuff is currently in a sudden-death shoot-out with this for most hideous wall covering.

Nothing says “I’m an exhibitionist” like having a window in the middle of your bathroom.  Come to think of it–all three of of Via Corona’s bathrooms are like this.  We played with the idea of doing something about it but ultimately did not want to compromise the symmetrical look of the windows from the exterior. Luckily the upslope of the hillside and the occasional visitor with poor timing are the only potential witnesses to TD’s morning gun show.

With that pleasant visual dancing around in your noggin, let’s explore the guest bath as it used to be.

The tub-shower combo was tucked into a dark corner behind the door.

While long and technically spacious, the vanity area was not very efficient.  It was also 29 inches high.  No joke, TD could bang his knee on the countertop.  To borrow from the great Steven Wright, perhaps the old owners posed for trophies.

And  I know they call it a throne and it is generally integral to the successful functioning of a bathroom, but having the toilet front and center wasn’t much fun to look at.  Of course having it sit in the middle of what used to be the kitchen isn’t a much better place (we’re assuming this is just an ornamental stopover on its way to the dumpster).

Changing the size of the bathroom was not an option.  So, we rearranged everything (except that window).  We added a door to the guest bedroom to make the bath an en-suite.  This not only created another form of entry but added a little privacy to the commode area.

Neither TD or I really cared about having a bathtub but we knew we needed to keep one in the house for resale value.  And the one currently sitting in our front yard doesn’t count.  Also, TD likes to quote former 49ers running back Roger Craig who once told him, “you can’t make the club in the tub.”  If I heard it once, I’ve heard it a thousand times.  I’m not kidding.  He says it all the time. I still have no what it means.

Alas, life is about compromise and in this case we gave up vanity space.

As for the look, we’re keeping things pretty neutral and clean with a couple of interesting touches.  The flooring is a warm grey chevron limestone tile.  I originally wanted to use dark charcoal fan-tiles but when the estimate for the hand-made pretties came in at $10 per tile…PER TILE…I changed my tune.

To play off the warm grey and to offset the more masculine fixtures (TD: Which is a misnomer because no man ever has cared about the look of a fixture. TMH: It’s a description not an assignment of interest.), we’ll go with an almost-there shade of pink for the walls.  The color is Benjamin Moore Opal…yeah, I know…you read the May issue of House Beautiful too.  I also think the pink will make a nice contrast to the bright white glazed subway tiles in the shower/tub.  We’re going with a white shaker vanity with a marble countertop and clear lucite hardware.  The fixtures are all in stainless steel.  Oh, and I am very anti-towel rack.  You won’t find a single one in Via Corona.  It’s all about the hooks baby, and this guest bath will have a couple of cool ones topped with sliced agate.

While designed as the guest bath, this lovely space will be mine (TMH) for everyday use.  TD and I have very different schedules and there are plenty of bathrooms to go around with just the two of us in the house so–why share?  TD gets the master bath.  The master bath has an eight-foot shower.  Just remember that when he complains in a future post about how my inability to share got him kicked out of the walk-in closet..

Want to read more about our renovation adventures? Go here: Via Corona

“Do you know where you are?  You’re in the master bathroom, baby!  You’re (probably) gonna diiieeeee!!”

-W. Axl Rose 

TD back again, check it to wreck it let’s begin . . . 

Today I have the enviable task of showing you the “progress” on the upstairs – recently home to abandoned underwear, 7-foot ceilings in the hallway and shop lights in one of the bedrooms.  Someday soonish (betting on December) this area will also be home to the World HQ for my thriving little business, Caught Looking, Inc. and a walk-in closet that I will not be allowed to use.

Remember that scene in Lean on Me when Paterson, New Jersey’s East Side High fell into disrepair before your very eyes only to later be redeemed by Principal Joe Clark (Morgan Freeman) using unconventional methods that showed he really did care?  If not (don’t worry, Shannon has no idea what I’m talking about either), the following short film will probably make little sense to you but watch it anyway.

Warning:  If you don’t like Guns N Roses (or you happen to be my Dad*) you might want to kill the volume.  Rest assured it will not ruin your appreciation of the “art”.

*Just kidding, Dad.  Love you!  But, seriously, turn the music off.

Via Corona Upstairs

(Disclaimers:  1.)  Now you can see why I hire some of the best editors in the world to do my bidding.  2.)  Sorry for the abrupt edit on the ending, but if you thought I was going to do a full-length video you’ve greatly misjudged how much effort I’m putting into these posts).

Today we’re also introducing a new segment:  The TMH Mail Bag!

On the heels of our treasured items raking in exactly zero million dollars at auction comes this article from the hoity-toity New York Times, sent in by eager reader Sarita D. from Hawthorn Woods, Illinois.

TL;dr – Sometimes people leave stuff and it’s worth something more than the steaming pile of jack squat we were left with.  Here’s the money quote from Gerard “Captain Obvious” Splendore . . .

“It seems to me that sellers always leave something, and buyers are usually appalled,” said Gerard Splendore, an associate broker in the Brooklyn Heights office of Halstead Property. “They don’t see it as a windfall. They don’t want somebody else’s stuff.”

Thanks, Sarita!  Keep the info coming.

Finally, our parody of The Who’s My Generation inspired songsmith James P. C. from Scotch Plains, New Jersey to pen this little ditty to the tune of The Who’s 1978 hit, Who Are You?  Please enjoy and keep The Who parodies coming as well.  No one has yet covered I Can See For Miles, Baba O’Riley or Eminence Front – which is one of my top 10 favorite songs of all-time.

What’d we do?
Fools, Fools, Fools, Fools!
What’d we do?
Fools, Fools, Fools, Fools!

What’d we do?
Fools, Fools, Fools, Fools!What’d we do?Fools, Fools, Fools, Fools!

I woke in our Redondo beachouse,
The Pacific knew our name
It said “You must go sleep at Via Corona tonight”
“You bought it, must be insane”

I staggered back to that f*cking dump
And tripped on a broken stair
I remember it needed new plumbing & electric
And a million other repairs

[chorus:]
Well, what’d  do? (What’d we do? Fools, Fools, Fools, Fools)
I really have no dough (What’d we do? Fools, Fools, Fools, Fools)
Tell me, what’d we do? (What’d we do? Fools, Fools, Fools, Fools)
‘Cause we really have no dough (What’d we do? Fools, Fools, Fools, Fools)

I took the 5 back out of town
Arrived at my condemned house
Felt a little like crying, man
Our dream home dream was doused

Every act of creation is first of all an act of destruction.

Pablo Picasso

If what my friend Pablo said is true, Via Corona is on its way to being the next Dora Maar au Chat.  Except…you know…with all the parts in the right places.

It felt like it took forever for the “actual work” to start on Via Corona.  There were architectural plans to be drawn up and preliminary engineering stuff to be done (and we are still working on secondary and tertiary plans).  But finally, about a month after we hired our builder and and nearly an eon after we closed on the house (at least six weeks), demo was a go.

Today I bring you Via Corona “during”–the downstairs addition.  I’ve included what the original spaces looked like as reference.  I’ll let you be the judge on whether Via Corona in her state of current undress is an improvement over her original state.

Here we have the 6’8″ entryway ceiling.

Minus the floor tile.

We didn’t do much of the demo ourselves but TD and I did take on that ceiling.  Destroying it was deeply and viscerally satisfying.

Ceiling removed and support beams gone.  It’s an old house and eight feet of ceiling is all we could hope for–but man, it makes a huge difference.

Remember our lady of the wall?

She’s now our lady of the wall no more.

Downstairs powder room in her brown and pink prime.

Tile and fixtures: history.

And so is most of the wall and flooring.  We knew from the inspections that Via Corona had a termite problem.  Now that most of the house has been demoed, we know that much of the wood-eating party was in this bathroom.

This part of the house is so disgusting and scary that we’re afraid to go in it for fear of falling through the floor.  We just stand in the doorway and gawk.

Kitchen before.  We felt a little bad about this one.  The cabinets were custom and we could have easily lived with the whole setup for some time.  But blood was already in the water so…

So. Much. Tile.

Cabinets: gone.

Flooring: gone.  All that remains is the soffit and that comes down as well.  To gain a little space we’re going to borrow from the powder room on the left wall.

Yep.  Toilet in the middle of the kitchen…Via Corona working on chanelling her inner Picasso.

Now you see the dining room.

Now you see the subfloor.

You’ve seen this shot before.  Let’s just say that we have yet to walk around in this house with bare feet.

The mantel was actually the first thing TD and I destroyed.  The scale of the mantel was far too large for the room–and would have been even after the addition to the left.

“End of life” carpet removed.  You know it’s saying something when janky plywood subfloor is categorized as “an improvement.”

Prom stairs before.  The carpet was so old that it disintegrated as we pulled it up.

TD and I spent a surprisingly therapeutic afternoon pulling out nails and staples after discovering hardwood under the carpet.    Unfortunately the wood we’re using for flooring isn’t a close enough match to save what is on there.

We gave ourselves an A for effort as consolation.

Not satisfied with making the foyer regular ceiling height, we also decided to take the upstairs hallway 21st century standards.

We are still waiting for the permits for the downstairs addition and new deck…another day another post.

On Thursday, TD will put on his docent’s badge to give you a tour of the upstairs.  Bet you can’t guess which one of us produces film in real life.

Episode 7: Appetite for destruction, part deux

For all Via Corona posts (so far): Via Corona

This week’s post is all TMH.  

There is no way to sugarcoat the following truth.  When it comes to the design approach on this project, there has never been nor will there ever be any pretense of style-ocracy.  I am the style-tator.   I make the style-cisions.  Luckily, TD trusts my judgement.  And when I say trust I mean doesn’t really care.  The formula works for us both.

A few years ago I started throwing pictures of architecture, interiors and design elements I liked onto a Pinterest board.  I reasoned that if I collected enough information about the things that “spoke” to me, I could figure out my style.  I mean our style.

I was also hoping it would help to divorce me from the “pick something someone else would like” rule I used for the mini-renovation on our last house. Hundreds of saved photos combined with several years worth of subscriptions to House Beautiful, Elle Decor, Dwell and Sunset and some clear patterns emerged (yes, dear former colleagues…and I know you know who you are…I can hear you saying ‘and now let’s put on our nerd hats’).

First the good news: my design-centered grounded theory approach worked (still wearing that nerd hat just to be obnoxious).  A clear aesthetic emerged.

Now the bad news for my ego: that aesthetic is not very original.

I’m calling it California-Scandanavian-pinch-of-eclectic-grown-up-comfortable. You can call it “the most popular pins on Pinterest.”  You know the look: light walls, white kitchen, mostly neutral furnishings with maybe a rattan accent chair or faded kilim rug to send the message that you’ve been places (IKEA) and know things (mostly from Instagram).  I love this look.  So does everyone else.

Source: Amber Lewis Designs

I have long been a stalker…I mean fan…of Amber Lewis of Amber Lewis Designs. Her approach is contemporary but laid back, super rich on texture without being overwhelming and so, so Californian.  I even thought for half a second that we might be able  to hire her firm for Via Corona.  But, budget limitations and some kind friends convinced me that I could do the design work myself  (well, and I couldn’t even work up the courage to send her an email inquiry).  A fool’s errand indeed.

Source: House Beautiful  also, One Kings Lane

Some houses  are a tabula rasa while others tell you what they need.  Part of the draw to Via Corona was that from the minute we stepped in the living room, her message was clear: view, location and light. We’ve talked about the view ad nauseum.  In terms of location, the house is about a mile from the beach.  The house gets a great ocean breeze and is subject to the early morning (and late afternoon) marine layer.  As for light? It’s beautiful in nearly every room in the house.  Light was something we really struggled with on the first floor of our old house so this was something we took note of during the house search.  And there you have it:  our golden triangle–view, location, light.

Source: Camille Styles

Focusing on this triumvirate  has made many of the design decisions easy (except for the part where the Stark antelope carpet I’d been coveting just didn’t make sense in this space). So has the fact that once the addition is complete there will be very few walls in the common space and lots of windows and french doors.  The idea is to keep visual distraction to a minimum while creating a super comfortable and functional place to hang out.

Source: My Domaine also, Amber Interiors

We’re also picking and choosing our luxuries and bargains.  TD’s television and sound system for the entire house were purchased before we even met Via Corona (in his defense it was purchased for the ugly but mean girl house).  I’ve chosen wide-plank oil finished hardwood for the floors and crazy (for me) Italian porcelain countertops in the kitchen.

Source: Tessa Neustdat

On the flip side, we’re going pre-fab and semi custom for the kitchen and bathroom cabinetry, lots of my favorite white subway tile where tile is needed and carpet in the bedrooms.  We’re also doing the closet and pantry/laundry shelving installations ourselves (I know this is peanuts to all you seasoned DIYers out there but it’s a big deal for us).

We’re also keeping to the golden triangle when it comes to furniture.  Because of the way we are opening up the downstairs, the result will be a kind of L-shaped great room.  Dining will blend to living will blend to sitting will blend to kitchen.  After trying many configurations via pen and graph paper it became clear that a sectional was the way to go.

At first I was very disappointed.  Sectionals are SO suburban.  At least that’s what I thought.  Luckily they’ve come a long way from my early 80s memories of  rust-colored plush monstrosities complete with cup holders and dueling recliners.  With the sectional and our existing dining room table serving as the anchors, the rest of the furniture will be collected over time.  You can bet that at some point, this chair, or more realistically, a version that I can afford, will call Via Corona home.

Source: Design within Reach

While we joke about the exterior as “rectangle,” the house ever so subtlely suggests colonial and cape cod styles.  In keeping with many of the houses in the area, we’re planning to stay simple with a clean white exterior from top to bottom and black accents via the shutters and doors.  And some crown stuff.  There will be some crown stuff…like a weather vane or maybe a door knocker.  You know, classy.

Source: Charm Design

Hardscaping and landscaping will come next year after we’ve lived in the house for a few months.

No detail too small, we did not forget about the feline contingent of our domestic unit.  TD has made an aggressive lobby for a cat tree or two.  This suggestion has been repeatedly denied.  Style-tatorship has its perks.  However each cat will get a brand new groovy litter box.  Gracie has already called dibs on the orange version.

Source: Modko

I hope the cat in the picture is included.

If you follow-along on Instagram (@TMHostess) you’ve caught a glimpse of the destruction brought down on Via Corona in the last few weeks.   She’s gutted my friends. So, next week we have a double post of “during” pictures.  Tuesday we cover the downstairs while Thursday is up.

Episode 6: Appetite for destruction: Downstairs edition

See all Via Corona posts (to date) here: Via Corona

TD here!  Against her better judgment, TMH turned over the keys to the kingdom this week.  

Fair Warning:  This post really has no point.  It’s simply a grab for cash to augment a continually escalating budget.  If you are looking for renovation progress, recipes or salvation, check back next week.  Or maybe the week after.  Now, on with the show!

Here’s the harsh reality of renovation budget planning:

1.  Create an absolute worst-case scenario budget

2.  Add 30% to that number

3.  Light that budget on fire

4.  Who do you think you are anyway?

Since we’ve had no takers on the indecent proposal scenario, it’s come to this.

Welcome to:

Crap from Via Corona

This week and this week only we’re offering you (yes, you!) the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to purchase a genuine chunk of Via Corona history.

That’s right, we’re selling the actual items the actual previous owners actually left in the house!  You can have it all!  My empire of dirt!

Before you get all up in arms about our responsibility to return all of this to the original owners, you need to know that we gave them an additional week to move out after closing on the house.  My generosity knows no bounds!

Before the bidding begins, please remember that these treasured items are sold as collections only.  No substitutions.  Meet or exceed the minimum bid in the next 48 hours and this vile garbage valuable loot could be a heaping pile on your doorstep in as little as 7 to 10 business weeks (shipping and handling not included).

LOT #1:  THE HUSTLE & FLU COLLECTION

We begin the bidding with a menagerie of medication.

If you’ve been under the weather in the last 20 years, do we have the collection for you!

As they say South of the border, “patada el tempora de frio y gripe en el culo”  with this fine collection of vintage medicines (handy Spanish translator HERE for those of you who didn’t take two semesters of Spanish at SIU).

This collection has everything!  Three bottles of Zicam Nasal Spray (two unused!).  Zicam claims it actually shortens the cold.  Great news if you had that cold in 2007 because these babies expired in July of that year!

Let’s say you had strep throat, pneumonia or a pesky skin, middle ear or urinary tract infection a decade ago.  I’m assuming Gimalxina would have handled it, but who knows because the instructions are completely in Spanish.  So go ahead and shove fistfuls of Gimalxina in your pie hole if you want.  The only way you can die from ingesting this much amoxicilina (whatever that is) would be to choke on the bottle cap, because this bottle . . . (dramatic pause) . . . ALSO expired in ’07!

And while we’re . . . um . . . South of the Border, say Montezuma took his revenge on you – again back in ’07.  I’m sure this unopened box of Imodium A-D would have been just what El Medico ordered!

“But TD”, you say.  “I’m an insufferable hipster and only do vintage.  Do you have any antique medicines?  Stuff from before the turn of the century?”

Three words:  Ab-so-lutely!

The year was 1997 . . . the Packers beat the Patriots in the Super Bowl, Bill Clinton was President and the average cost of a new house was $124,100.  In August of ’97 an unused jar of Vicks Vaporub expired, but it did not die in vain.  It still has the pungent odor of your grandma’s nightstand, so smear a gob of this goo on your chest and breathe freely like the American hero you are you magnificent bastard!

At this point you’re definitely thinking a collection that includes an adult diaper and a feminine napkin can’t get much better, and on that point you’d be 3000% wrong!  How about Norelco Cool Skin electric razor with charging station (power cord not included)?  To say nothing of the Hollywood Beauty brand carrot oil to control split ends (Warning:  bottle coated in carrot oil).  How ’bout a Sweet 16 sheer bandages from Long’s Drugs (a company ceased to exist in 2008), a genuine lemon flavored sucker of unknown provenance or Coricidin!  Coricidin!  Coricidin! They’re all here!

Act now and we’ll throw in trace amounts of a 2 oz. can of Isoplus Oil Sheen Hair Spray, “The Hair Doctor in a Can”.

Minimum Bid for Lot #2:  $912.37

LOT #2:  THE PUG LIFE COLLECTION

We probably should have called in the Torrance Bomb Squad to handle this weapons-grade stick of comedy/sexual dynamite.  See, it’s a pug . . . but it’s wearing lipstick?!

Next Valentine’s Day you are guaranteed to become instantly irresistible to males, females and everything in-between when you unleash  Pugs & Kisses!

Dinner?  Chocolates?  Roses?  Don’t be a chump.  This card is like stuffing Tom Jones and Teddy Pendergrass in your mailbox.

This lot comes complete with genuine, sun-damaged yellowish envelope*.

*Stamps not included (postage, food or tramp).

Minimum Bid for Lot #2:  $1,500

LOT #3:  THE IT MAKES YOUR MOUTH TURN GREEN COLLECTION

This barely-used Comet Variety Pack comes in Regular, Club Size and Nacho Cheese Bilingual flavors.

Club Size Comet let’s you “step up in da club” as the kids say with the only environmentally-surly cleanser that’s both highly corrosive to the eyes, skin and respiratory tract and kosher!

And don’t wait until the wall goes up, make your grimy tub great again with Bilingual Comet with Blanqueador.  Whether you scrub in English or Spanish you’re sure to see a scratch-free shine from here to wherever the manufacturing jobs went!

Order before midnight tonight and we’ll add the random can of Ajax which is proudly made in ‘Murica (or Connecticut) by hard working people like you.

Deal with it, Kemosabe.  Sh*t’s getting real.

Minimum Bid for Lot #3:  $24.31 (or 450 pesos)

 LOT #4:  THE RUB A DUB DUB COLLECTION

Never in your life has a set of moderately used toiletries made you so appealing to the opposite sex.  This fabulous package includes:

Conditioners!  Conditioners!  Conditioners!  We lead off with a 40 oz. bottle of Dove Cool Moisture Cucumber & Green Tea Conditioner (approximately 12 oz. remaining), a 15 oz. bottle of Alberto VO5 Extra Body Conditioner (you’ll get a good 4 ounces here!), a full 9 oz. of a 12 oz bottle of Pantene Pro V Heat Shield Conditioner and finally, as the French say, the piece of resistance – the Bad Boy of Bargain Conditioners.

Yep he’s the one slouching in the back making your heart beat just a little faster.  From the curvature of the bottle to his handy pump dispenser, this controversial 40 oz. bottle of Kirkland’s Signature Hydrating Conditioner says, “I got you, follicle!”  Controversial, you ask?  Indubitably.

A summary glance on the Interwebs suggests you can’t even buy the 40 oz. bottle anymore.  It would appear that BIG CONDITIONER sold out to the Commies and now you can only get it in the metric 1 liter (33.8 oz.) size.

The price tag says, $14.65, but can you really put a price on sticking it to BIG CONDITIONER?

Felonious Funk:  Felons reading this post need ever worry about dropping the soap again with this half-used 8.5 oz. bottle of Neutrogena Rain Bath Refreshing Shower Gel.  Even the Aryan Brotherhood will notice that fresh scent (here I’m guessing).

Clear the Air:  Finally friends, reek no more with out fine collection of air fresheners.  Here we’re offering a mostly full 7 oz. can of Arm & Hammer Deodorizing Air Freshener or try Glade’s Suddenly Spring Sorpresa de Primavera scent for the times you might need to “suppress your primavera” if you know what I’m saying.

BUT WAIT!  THERE’S MORE!  Act now and we’ll throw in the moderately-used-yet rarely-cleaned shower caddy in the photo!

Minimum Bid for Lot #4:  $50

LOT #5:  THE LET THERE BE LIGHT COLLECTION

If you’re a Philly sports fan, this lot is your jawn!  We’ve got 25 batteries.  Mostly of the popular D cell variety in a plastic box to go with a flood light and an ironically non-functional flashlight.

You wanna chuck batteries at Peter Freaking Bourjos for hitting a buck-ninety-five?  Now you can!  With this veritable sh*tload of Cold War Era batteries, it’s a safe bet your arm will get tired long before security wrestles you to the ground!

Minimum Bid for Lot #5:  $220, $221 . . . whatever it takes (see what I did there?)

LOT #6:  THE WINSTON WOLF COLLECTION

Say you shot a man in Reno just to watch him die?  Your crime scene will be spic and span in a jiffy with this exciting double lot of cleansers.

Windex, Cascade, Raid, Lysol, Dawn, even WD-40 . . . they’re all* here!

*Spic and Span and Jiffy not included.

At this point you’re asking yourself, “Am I even man/woman enough to own this many half-empty cleaning products?”  The short answer is probably not.

But what it we threw in three serving platters and a digital telephone modem?  Fact is, you’d still probably be a pantywaist, but you’d also be a pantywaist with exactly two cans of roach spray.  One for you and one for that special someone.

Minimum Bid for Lot #6:  Make us an offer.  As long as that offer is north of $1,000 simoleons, it’s done.  Done like the dinner you’re serving on those kick-ass platters.

LOT #7:  THE FAMILY JEWELS COLLECTION

If you’ve been sitting on the sidelines, get ready to reach for your wallet.  We’ve saved the best for last.

Set a course for adventure with two pair of moderately clean men’s knit boxer briefs, size medium (only one previous owner!).

Can’t decide to rub or scratch?  Do both with this genuine Las Vegas combo back scratcher/massager (Made in China).

Finally, you’re the King of the World with seven photos of a Windjammer Cruise you did not go on!

Order in the next 20 minutes and we’ll throw in that funky stain on the carpet absolutely FREE.

Just look at that sweet, sweet Windjammer Bar, dammit!  There’s not another living soul in any of these photos, so make up some story about the time you were on a ghost ship!

Look at you, you’re not even sure how to act right now.  And why are you still reading this?  Make moves, my friend. Make moves.

Minimum Bid for Lot #7:  $100,000

I’m sure TMH will be back next week to add some much needed class and decorum to the proceedings, but let me remind you that I’m serious as a syphillis about selling this crap.  

Everything must go and operators are standing by so don’t just stand there Tiger Mom-ing or Leaning In or whatever you call it.  See, see you future.  Be, be your future.  May, may, make your future!

As long as I’m shilling, one last thing:  Season 2 of one of my shows, the BattleFrog College Championship premieres next Thursday at 9:30 PM ET on ESPN.  Episodes 2 & 3 are both at 8:00 PM ET Friday and Saturday also on ESPN.  My partners and I worked really hard on it for a very long time and it would make me happy if you would watch it. Not to put too fine a point on it but, Via Corona’s future kind of relies on you and all your friends watching but hey, no pressure!  

Next up, Episode 5: Zhushing the rectangle

For a list of all Via Corona posts: Via Corona