A Tiny Island off the Coast of Belize

 April 2013 we took a plane, slept in an airport, then another plane, then an overanxious taxi ride through the busy streets of Belize City, ate some tacos, then caught a water taxi and cruised for about an hour until we came to a little island, not visible on most maps, by the name of Caye Caulker. Their motto, which the islanders are so diligent to remind, is "Go Slow." As in, "Hey mahn, gooo slow." 

 The food on this island was surprisingly amazing with a wonderful marriage of latin american staples and Caribbean flavor. 

 Drinking horchata from a bag.

 Snorkeling with sting rays and nurse sharks. 

Globalization is the darndest thing. 

Here I am walking with Matt and Allison McFarland, our wonderful traveling mates: 

 Brightly painted homes and shacks, picket fences, locals passing on beach cruisers, barefoot children playing ball, street vendors selling grilled shrimp or fish, and hammocks along the water lent to the charm of this island. The only vehicles crossing our path were the occasional golf carts. Standing in the center of certain roads allows for views of the ocean on both sides. 

 The only arrangement for accommodation we carried was a picture in our minds from a random internet shot of some colorful cabanas lining the water. A local by the name of Rambo dropped his bicycle mid-movement to take us to a few places until we finally came upon our picture and immediately committed to the $20/night charge. 

Our little cabana just steps from the water. Infested by termites and a peep hole in the bathroom floor, yet the simplicity and rustic charm made for the perfect experience. I would love to go back and nap in the porch hammock taking in the ocean breeze. 

100 Years in the Making Part 1

I wish every mark of progression in life had a before picture. It would be nice to see that sometimes no matter how crappy you think things are, they used to be a lot crappier. 

I posted   THIS POST   a couple of years ago with the intention of posting a series of pictures of our home remodel project. For a quick summary of the history, see the link. 

BEFORE:

The home was completed in 1906. Don't let the 1970's mask fool you. We drove straight to the house and tore the faux rocks off the wall directly after signing the papers. 

  I never knew I would become so comfortable using a crowbar. We ripped EVERYTHING out using our own manpower. The rumor we heard was true, there were two additional feet of space before the original ceiling:

Then the hopelessness, despair, and agony of what we really got into settled. Things became so much worse before they ever got better. . .  

DURING:

We could see the potential through our ghastly mess while friends and family members justifiably thought we were over our heads and out of our minds. 

This was my view for the majority of the remodel while EVERYTHING was replaced and I learned first hand how a house is put together. It is a much shorter list if you ask me what JR didn't complete on his own. 

This space was opened up to return it to its original purpose as a "parlor." I found the original parlor door wheels from 100 years before in the ground under the floor. We also uncovered hundreds of bird skeletons above the ceiling.  

 This wall was torn down, brick by brick to make way for a new staircase:

The original stairs would have been more appropriately called a ladder and they were accessed through the kitchen. 

The new staircase under construction:

That rotted piece of metal was the previous air duct JR found when he tore into the floor. Needless to say he replaced the entire system.

In all fairness to the house, the before pics didn't have the greatest lighting. . .  

AFTER:

Between the two of us, JR and I could tell you how much each project cost and probably inform you, whether you wanted to know or not, how much money we saved. We were enslaved by this house but it prevented us from having to borrow any money. The furnishings have also been  designed on a dime, most either second-hand or produced-by-hand. The most expensive piece in the entire house is our brown West Elm sectional purchased from an outlet for $200.  

Once again, Before:

After:

(Chandelier was purchased broken for $10 and fixed by JR, you know, in case you were wondering)

Before:

After:

Before:

After:

I will continue adding posts to this remodel photo album as I'm having too much fun looking at the old photos. Stay tuned to see JR's escape from getting toppled by a ton of bricks or the "haunted" old attic converted into a nursery. 

What the Blog is it for?

 It seems as though the time of the blog is meeting its expiration. Pinning, tweeting, or "insta" sharing are the preferred communique. I will admit, I've loved the sharing of blogs, and I've absolutely hated it with every fiber of my being. I appreciate the fuller, more complete updates the blog allows from those I respect and admire. I despise the competing, self validating posts plastered with images shot with a slanted lens (and no, I'm not talking about photography quality). I like honesty, but think sticking to the highlights is just fine too. I dislike lengthy, wordy posts I'm forced to skim, only to get to the end and regret knowing every gift your child received for St. Patrick's day or whatever amazing craft you are congratulating yourself on for Memorial Day (disclaimer- this isn't based on any true posts). I know we have all felt this way one time or another, so what is the point?

I've come to the conclusion that this doesn't mean you should change your posts to please the masses, but to record with a perspective for what your family and progeny will value. Yes, a lot of time has been wasted looking at certain other blogs, but I don't regret any of the time I spent on my own blog, just as I'm sure you value the time you wrote and pasted about your life. You may hate every post I've published, yet it doesn't matter because in the end the blogs were for us. I feel 100% fine with the fact that I'm the only one that will look back through my blog and treasure the time I took to select a few pictures out of the thousands from each event, write a little, and frame the passing events of our family. It is a unique portfolio that I will continue to contribute, if only for myself and a few friends. The clearing up of the blogosphere makes way for less pressure and more of a sense of freedom of what is expected. Write on your blog and write for you.
 I feel like I've just gained some room for stretching out here. 


P.S.- Back in August we went to a balloon launch in Sandy.

Emerson's first day of preschool

The draw-string canvas backpack, plaid shorts, bright top that no longer fits him, little flip flops, desire to have his hair look like a "G stud", and confidence to leave the nest of his mama- all things I want to remember.