Men in the house...

The began to arrive at 8:00 AM. I had a pot of coffee brewed, and I had fried up a pound of locally raised bacon. One by one, strange men came through the door. The contractor and his dad. An electrician. A plumber. A window salesman. An insulation expert. They went in the basement. They went upstairs. They made suggestions. Notes were taken. Questions were asked. Decisions were made. Bacon was eaten, and the coffee pot went dry. It was daunting and exhilarating, and a little tiring. The rough estimate is that construction will begin in April and take 4-6 weeks to complete. I am terrified and thrilled,all at once. I feel like I am eating an elephant, and trying to concentrate on one bite at a time.

The beginning of a dream...

It all started in October, 2013. I have been very happily employed at a grooming shop for 10+ years. My employer mentioned that she was contemplating retirement in the not-too- distant future. I had a few days of abject panic. My time working for her has been quite idyllic. I didn't want to work for anyone else. It would be possible for me to purchase her wonderful business, but at this stage of my life that seemed... too big. Too ambitious. TOO MUCH. So I did what I am good at doing and began to fret and stew. Then I switched into planning mode. My first thought was that I would purchase a mobile van and take my show on the road. I had done this in the past, and it was fun. But here in rural Maine... with the months of bad weather and ice and dicey roads... with the far flung area my target customers would reside in... the plan seemed unworkable. I then considered building a wee out-building on my property, and having a shop there. Then a friend had a brilliant suggestion! I should buy an old travel trailer and have it outfitted as a tiny grooming space. I was VERY excited about this idea. I could picture how cute this little structure would be, tucked under the apple trees in the side yard, with easy access to the driveway. I began to plot and plan. I researched renovating trailers and learned a lot. Meanwhile, my sweet sister came to visit. She is not the type to sit still,she likes to have a Project (with a capital "P.") We had previously decided that the project would be to clean my front porch. The front porch of my house is what sold me on buying this property when we first moved to Maine. It stretches the length of the house, with ancient windows boasting old, wavy glass letting in sunlight and starlight and moonlight. I love the porch. It had, however, gotten a bit cluttery, and the walls were in need of a good scrub, the windows desperate for a wash. My sister doesn't do things half way, and before I knew it we had pretty much emptied the porch of just about everything. We washed the walls. We washed the floor. We decided to wait on the windows, that was just too daunting. It was while I was vacuuming that I turned around, and saw this empty space... that it hit me. I gasped. Loudly. My sister asked, "WHAT?" I think she thought I'd stumbled upon some loathsome spider or something. I literally couldn't speak for a moment or two, because I was gobsmacked by the idea that had just slapped me upside the head.

THIS. This space. It would make the most wonderful little grooming studio. But could it? My sister thought it was a fabulous idea. So did my daughter. Even my husband, who I thought might be skeptical, embraced my thought whole heartedly. So I began to take steps to see if I could make this little dream come true.

The first step was to find a contractor who could answer all the questions that were swirling around in my brain, keeping me wide eyed at 2 AM. I asked a friend who had recently had an addition built on her home, she she highly recommended her contractor. He came out to the house, in worn Carhart pants, with a beard that needed trimming and a warm handshake. I liked him immediately. I told him my plans, what I thought I would need... new windows, a vent fan, plumbing, lots of electrical outlets, new walls, a water proof floor, a new front door, heat, insulation! "Is it possible?" I asked, worried. "ANYTHING is possible," he replied. A few weeks passed and he sent me a rough estimate. It seemed reasonable. Meanwhile, I had been told I should get at least two estimates, so I arranged for a second contractor to come out. It took a while, we were deep into the busy holiday season, but finally I met contractor #2.

He was a very nice man, quite professional. He measured and nodded, he sent out an electrician and a plumber to look the place over. Then he send me a very detailed estimate, that was quite a lot larger than the one the first guy had given. I called the first guy back. He came out again, and we talked. I had solidified my plans more by this time.

Meanwhile, I talked to the brilliant women at my tiny town hall. They told me I would have to talk to the planning board about a home business. I made a phone call and the next week at 7 PM I found myself sitting before 5 or 6 members of the planning board. They asked me questions, I answered the best I could, and 20 minutes later I left with their blessings. I need to bake them cookies. They told me so!

My wonderful niece is a talented interior designer. She drew up a floor plan for me, with the grooming tub and table I had chosen neatly fitted in. It was such a thrill to see how the space would look with those items installed. She made some suggestions about lights and walls and space and every morning I would step out onto my frigid porch and see my small, uncluttered, bright work area there, tucked between my living room and the lovely world outside those huge windows. And I'd smile a smile so big it hurt my face.

Today the first contractor came out again and talked further. He seems to see my vision for my little space, and wants to be sure my 100 year old porch stays looking like itself, and not some modern, shiny thing. He is back at the drawing board, and I am shooting him emails full of my ideas. He might need cookies, too.

And this is the beginning.