Hey, folks, this is Dan. In this post, Debra talks about the Hildring House hallway transformation. A lot of the changes we’ve made at Hildring House have been pretty dramatic (especially the unfitted kitchen, which is the subject of an exciting surprise we’ll reveal soon – cue suspenseful music). None, however, were more fundamental – transforming the entire house – than the one she talks about today. As usual, my comments will be in italics. Here is an intro shot of the hallway, just to set the stage. Enjoy!
Hildring House Hallway
I mentioned in my last post that Hildring House originally had a long, dark, notverypretty hallway.
We are very lucky to have our grandchildren nearby. They spend a good bit of time at our house, so it was important to us to create a space just for them – the boys’ room. Kids’ rooms run the gamut from “leftover” to “designed-within-an-inch-of-their-lives-cutesy” spaces…
The Boys’ Room Design
I was shooting for something in the middle. A space for sleeping, playing, and storing toys. We have diligently attempted to limit the amount of store-bought toys in the house. Our preference is for them to create their own toys using imagination: boxes, string, whatever they can find. (This is Dan, chiming in. They usually do very well.) And I confess, we often break down (we’re grandparents, after all). Like when we invested in the giant bounce house water slide. So there is that 😉
It’s not pretty, but it’s oh-so-fun for little boys. (You may remember it from this post.)
My friend Kellie Bullinger (with League Real Estate 817-523-9113) has this great listing – which happens to be right across the street from Hildring House! Come be our neighbor! Call Debra (Virginia Cook Realtors) at 817-903-1112 or Kellie to see! It will go fast (because the neighbors are awesome…hehe)
It’s summer in Texas, so let’s head south – way south. Far enough south that summer becomes winter. We’ll trade the Texas heat for Argentina’s capital city, Buenos Aires, sometimes called “the Paris of the Southern Hemisphere.” This is not by mistake. At the beginning of the Twentieth Century, the government of Argentina recruited many French architects and engineers to help transform the city. It’s a lovely place – large, diverse, energetic, and cosmopolitan. Many areas do, indeed, recall Paris. Let’s take a stroll through one of them – La Recoleta Cemetery.
The comparison to Père Lachaise Cemetery in Paris is understandable, particularly if you’re looking for similarities. Both are relatively large, boasting tombs of many famous people. Both are architecturally interesting for the designs of their mausoleums. And both are navigated by means of cobblestone avenues rather than simple pathways. But beyond these parallels, they are quite different from one another.
At over 100 acres, Lachaise is almost eight times the size of La Recoleta and far more open. The passages are wider, there is space between the crypts. And it’s, well, French. It looks French and feels French.
Four months and many many dollars later… the laundry room is “finished”…. well, as finished as anything ever gets with me around. [This is Dan – I’ll be chiming in occasionally. Just can’t help myself, you know. I have to agree – “finished” is euphemistic for “reasonably satisfied for the moment but don’t get too used to it.”] So here is a long overdue laundry room post – with some good pictures by Trey Freeze.
Today’s something extra is lagniappe for the Fourth of July.
I was an Air Force brat. If you think that the word “brat” makes that a self-deprecating statement, you are mistaken. Other military brats know what I mean. When asked the question, “Where did you grow up?” a military child typically can’t answer with a single state, so they describe a state of affairs.
I don’t know why “brat” became part of the description. Perhaps because many military kids moved so much that they had trouble assimilating – seemed standoffish, a bit aloof. Particularly the introverts. Shyness looks that way sometimes.
Whatever the origin of the term, as a military brat, the Fourth of July has always been a particularly poignant occasion for me. My dad spent most of my childhood in a position dedicated to the protection – by force, if necessary – of “the American way of life.” As a kid and as an adult, I’ve thought a lot about what that means.