Notes from HoB

As the longest week of work for all of us finally comes to an end -- Brooke recognizes that for her newspaper colleagues, that is not necessarily true and she has the utmost understanding -- we apologize for skipping nearly three days of blogging.

There was Bon Jovi's christening of the New Meadowlands Stadium on Wednesday night, and paycheck-earning the rest of the time, so we're letting the grass grow high at the House of Bich (though I hear a rumor that a friend's son will be cutting the field our yard has become this weekend).

Holy cow, we have a yard.

After a rather contentious Sunday arguing over the hardwood floors, Rich and I reached a compromise: If I trust him and let him take care of it, I'll get new floors five or so years from now, and I get to choose the paint colors and the decor. Enter Macy's and an excellent sale on curtains ...

The hot tub is gone, and the pool will go as soon as I have a taker. (Free to any, BTW.) I discovered the garden department at Hackensack's Home Depot and will be thrilled to acquaint myself with it better soon.

On Tuesday night, Rich took the train down to meet with the flooring guy we're going with and forgot to find a way home, so I drove down and met him at JJ Bitting Brewing Co., which will become our local pub (hi, Tim!) and offered buy-one-get-one-free pints of very good local brew before we headed back to Edgewater. Oh, and Tubby Burros. YUM.

Tomorrow, it's the wedding of two simpaticos at a winery in New York, and we're excited. We love weddings and the chance to (badly) dance all night and catch up with old friends. Especially when Sunday involves something as icky as painting ceilings.

Love

I realize I shouldn't be falling in love with pieces of furniture just yet, but this ... this, I love.

My mom has one that she inherited from her grandmother; it's in beautiful shape. While it's never been my style, it's an intriguing little piece that fits perfectly in foyers or entrances (depending on which house they're living in at the moment). When my coworker Amanda showed this to me -- after finding out it's called a telephone table, which seems obvious now -- from Kanibal Home, a shop in Jersey City, it was instant WANT.

And at around $135, pretty darn reasonable.

It would go so perfectly on my enclosed porch.

Speaking of the porch, that'll be my vacation project come August. I'll strip the windowsills and scrape down what is probably 12 layers of paint, then repaint the walls and trim. Right now, my favorite color for that room is called Apple Crisp, by Behr, but I've got some time to mull it over.

Underfoot

We discovered on Friday night that our hardwood floors are not in good shape.

OK, we kinda knew that, but then we brought the guy in who did Charlie and Denise's floors (they're amazing -- Charlie and Denise, too, of course), and he told us that the floors are pine, and refinishing will just make it look a little better, but possibly not much. Pine is too soft and shows every nick, scratch and high-heel dent . . . which is why it's not used anymore.

Right now, there is carpet throughout the upstairs and in the downstairs room we'll turn into an office. The hardwood in the master bedroom is in good shape, so we'll refinish that and the upstairs hall, and probably the stairs as well. The floor under the carpet in the office is also in decent shape; at some point in the future, I'd like to use a lighter bamboo or ceramic tiles in the kitchen, upgraded tile in the bathroom, and tile in the front porch, but those are areas that we're not worried about yet.

It's the downstairs we're somewhat torn on, due to the price difference.

Our options:

1. Rip up the parquet floor in the dining room, exposing the hardwood underneath that runs throughout the living room and hall as well; put down new oak floors for consistency throughout the downstairs. Refinish the steps, paint the risers; refinish the master bedroom and upstairs hall.

2. Simply refinish all floors throughout, with replacement to come later.

3. Focus on the downstairs and the steps -- new floor, refinish the steps -- and reserve the upstairs for a later, pain-in-the-ass project.

Everyone, House. House, Everyone.

A lot of noteworthy things happened in 1929.

Al Capone had seven rival gangsters murdered, an action that prompted the eventual repeal of Prohibition. The first Academy Awards were handed out, starting a process that ended with the recent abomination of Miss Congeniality winning one. And, of course, the Great Depression began.

Unnoticed in all that hubbub, someone built our house that year. Figured that before we start carping about everything, introductions were in order.

Using pine for wood floors, the home was likely built as a bungalow, the style of the day for what was basically a suburb. In fact, construction on the Parkway and the Turnpike wouldn’t begin for nearly 20 years. Sure, Woodbridge was already a large town (27 square miles), but it had only 25,000 residents.

Today, the houses on our street mostly retain the original style: a full first floor built over a full-sized slab basement. The laundry is down there – as will our wine collection at some point. The top floor is pair of a rooms separated by a nook that we’d eventually like to make a half-bath. The two rooms upstairs – unlike those in many Capes – do not have slanted ceilings where the eaves protrude – a highlight for me. We’ll use the front room as our master bedroom and the back room for guests (that means you).

The downstairs features the living room, a full formal dining space, a third bedroom, the home’s only bathroom and a nice-sized kitchen. We’ll use the downstairs bedroom as our sports memorabilia room/office. The first floor also has an enclosed porch that runs the entire width of the house. The porch was originally uncovered – again, think bungalow – but at some point was fully wrapped.

Last is the backyard. Not sprawling, but it already has two paved patio areas and a frame shed. The fence is in workable condition. Just have to get rid of the above-ground pool taking up the majority of the space and then the yard – like the rest of the house – will be a blank canvass for us.

If only paint didn't cost so much.

Beginnings

Greetings, visitors ... there aren't many yet (Hi, Alison!), but that'll change as we start to post.

It's 11:45 on a Friday night in May. Rich is in bed, Brooke is browsing furniture sites and tending to the cats -- Woody and Bernie, who will play a big role in the posts to come.

We've been homeowners for approximately 36 hours: On May 20, 2010, we closed on a Cape Cod in Woodbridge, New Jersey, that was built in 1929.

So there it is. More history to come.