Her Side Funnies

This post follows “Slipforming, the next generation, part 1.”  If you wish to see that post, click here.  

One of the initial concerns of starting a rock home is how much it will cost.  If you think about that for a minute, you’ll realize it’s an impossible question to answer.  I don’t know if you’ll use $30/gallon paint, or $10/gallon paint, or ANY paint.  I don’t know how clever you are at recycling and “thinking outside the box.”  Even you don’t know how many resources will fall into your lap, nor how many extra expenses will hit you that were not anticipated.  My question to you is:  Are you committed?  (Not commitable, committed!)  If you are committed, it can happen.  Period.  Once you can state your idea, clearly and concisely, your eyes will see opportunities in unlikely places.

For us, that unlikely place was a dilapidated Victorian home in a town an hour from where we lived.  While my husband was on a business trip, I drove past a vacant, home in Hotchkiss during a visit to my parents.  It had not been lived in for at least 10 years and was in grave disrepair.  The foundation was crumbling on one side and a back addition was downright scary. 

Ken was gone, so I put an offer on it and figured I would explain later.  When he called, he asked if I had purchased anything while he had been away.  Previous trips of his had yielded chickens, bum lambs, geese and the like.  I told him that I had found a lovely home that had a sunken bathtub, large trees and would be “just gorgeous” when we finished it.  He thought I was kidding. 

So, when we drove up to this house, he knew I had either 1) taken the joke too far, or 2) committed us to the ownership of a dump.  

“This?  This has a sunken tub?” he asked, incredulously.

“Oh yes,” I answered, eagerly.  “Come see for yourself.”

We crept through the yard, which looked like this:

By now, Ken is asking a LOT of questions, like why I couldn’t have a fetish for shoes, or new outfits, like his co-worker’s wives did.  They, he assured me, got in a lot of trouble if they spend $69 on a  new outfit.  I had just committed us to $30,000 on a house, without his permission.  But, that said, he was eager to see the “sunken tub.”

It is difficult to capture, in words, his reaction when he saw it.  It was unlike any sunken tub he had ever seen. 

It took a minute to compose himself, and probably to restrain himself from strangling me. 

Once his life had passed before his eyes, he quietly said, “I need to get you out more.  This is not a sunken tub.” 

The tub had collapsed through the floor and was filled with brackish water.  If you look closely, you can tell that someone tried to approach it, and fell through the floor. 

Oddly, we entered a contest for the Ugliest Bathroom in Colorado, and did not win.  I cannot imagine what the winning bathroom must have looked like.  Truly, I thought we had THAT competition wrapped up!

To the original question of how we financed the slip-formed castle we now live in, we hired a contractor to remodel this home.  We tore off the back addition that housed the bathroom, and gutted this Victorian, putting in new electrical, plumbing, windows, roof, and added skylights. 

Earlier in our real estate adventures, we had taken a partner and it was during this property renovation that the partnership ended.  After scrounging up every cent we had to buy out our partner, Ken lost his job the next morning and this home, which we had intended to sell, ended up being our personal home.  Ken ended up getting a job working from home, so it ultimately ended well, but was pretty chaotic for a couple of weeks while we were scrambling to land on our feet.

Living closer to my parents was grand.  I was raised on a farm and they lived only two miles away.  I was intent on teaching my kids the value and sanctity of life – by having them nurture sick animals into health, which sometimes did not work despite valiant efforts.  My hope is that they’d learn to take good care of their health – because without it, little else in life is as enjoyable.

My mom and dad agreed to take the animals, once healthy, onto their ranch.  So, we had critters, but usually only for about a week.  Ultimately, I got turned in to the town cop for violating a town ordinance which refused to allow livestock in town.  I explained to the policeman that the kids were raising these exotic dogs in our back yard (shown below)….  Yeah, the policeman didn’t buy it, either.  He said if I didn’t quit with the farm animals in town limits, he’d offer me free room and board at the cross bar hotel, a.k.a. jail.  That’s when my husband and I took a serious look at building out of town.  (I do think it took Ken a minute or two to consider the relative merits of having me jailed, but ultimately, after a gut-wrenching debate on his end, he opted to support the idea of getting me out of town…as soon as possible.)

We sold the Victorian on the condition we could rent it for two years while we built our home.  This left us approximately $39,000 to invest in our stone home and a home to rent during the building process.  Getting the utilities to the home site cost $23,000, so we actually started the slip formed home with $16,000 plus blood, sweat and tears. 

To see slipforming, part 3 for the next thread, “The biggest obstacle,” click here.  To see the complete list of slipforming articles, click here.

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