I’ve been called quite contrary, though my name is not Mary, but man oh man, does my garden grow!
My father was into gardening. My mom, not so much (aka never). My father was born on a farm in Willisville, Illinois to Italian emigrants. His dad was a coal miner. His mother, my Nana, a force of nature. He was the first and only college graduate of a first generation family of 6 and he was the baby, to boot. My father was the only one to not only graduate from high school, but to get his Doctorate. Yet, among his siblings, he was not the only one to make his mark in the world. His family personified the American way. If you work hard, you can make your way with or without an education. Never underestimate the power of resolve.
Food was raised not purchased. Stories around the table relived not told.
My father loved his girls; all six of us. He was a Renascence man whose interests included Orchids, opera, needlepoint, ice skating, language, cooking, hunting, sewing, making wine, and most of all, making merry
I never paid attention growing up to my father’s fascination of plants and gardening. It was just his thing. He had a greenhouse built on to our house. Little did I know it was his floral fort designed to neutralize the harsh realities of the day. He would disappear there armed with cocktail, watering can and sweet silence. He’d emerge 45 minutes later nurtured,” watered” and fortified for dinner with 7 women – with a smile on his face.
In honor of my father, I present to you, my Murco garden.
The older I get, the more I become my fathers daughter. My enthusiasm for gardening surges through me like my Miracle Grow in my veins. The satisfaction of mixing earth & elements to inspire glorious unbridled consequence. It’s like raising offspring that don’t get lippy in their adolescent years.
Color, mad growth & perpetuation of more of the same are what I strive for. This is one reputation that I don’t mind being soiled…for once.
This year, my garden is on steroids. All my plantings have come from other properties. Over 20 years, I have never purchased new perennials. A cutting there, a transplant there; mementos from houses long extinguished. Over time, my garden has taken on a life of its own. Each year it returns, bigger & bolder. I am more witness than creator at this point. It’s sustaining both environmentally and intellectually and it connects me metaphorically and physically to my earth & sky.
He had no sons, only daughters, but the moon shone and set around us. He was the lion of the pride and roared till the day cancer claimed him 17 years ago.
Happy father’s day, Dad. I love you.
We all have a shelf life.
Building materials and humans were not meant to live forever
I lost a friend of mine to breast cancer this week. So so sad.
My dearest friend from college on also wrestles with it
We all know there’s only one ticket out of this joint and it ain’t pretty.
“Don’t worry, sooner or later, I’ll be home.
Red-cheeked from the roused wind,
I’ll stand in the doorway, stamping my boots and slapping my hands,
My shoulders covered in stars.” – Mary Oliver
God how I love that image!
It could be an occupational hazard, or it could be my nature, but I’m a “saver”. I like to keep things in use for as long as they can stand it. I have painfully discovered that saving lives is apparently outside my realm of influence. Thankfully, my track record for saving materials, is quite more effective.
All of this got me thinking somehow about the many similarities between humans and houses. I’ll give you 3 examples off the top of my head.
How they react with the environment depends on age.
Most are unaware that multitudes of newel y fabricated building materials have adhesives in them that off gasses for several years to your home. You name it, it’s got it. Laminate counter tops, veneered cabinetry, engineered wood flooring, shelving units.. The newer the materials, the higher rate of off gassing. Similarly, humans both the very young and the very old are completely oblivious to off gassing and choose to do so with great abandon every chance they get. Everyone in between the very young and the very old are tolerant if not slightly bemused.
Protection from the elements is key.
Have you seen a deck that hasn’t been sealed and waterproofed in 10 years? That’s your face in 25 years should you choose not to protect yourself! Or seen a roof that’s sagging, choose to ignore it and instead of being able to repair the section, you now have to do the whole thing. Speaking of sagging…yeah, you know what I’m talking about. Get your fanny in gear and get stronger because growing old is not for the weak.
Build them right the first time.
If you build your house on faulty foundation, it’s just a matter of time before the cracks come to light. You only have one chance to raise your little ones. It’s best to take the time with them when they are young to build a healthy foundation. Once they’re built, it will be a lot more expensive to fix. Paging Dr. Freud.
Embracing my broke-ness
I envisioned my blog to be all about reuse. Well, I need to veer from that because I’m doing so little of it these days. Yeah, no surprise business is down. Way, way down. And with that brings consequences and adjustments. You know what I’m talking about. There is no one who is unaffected by the state of the economy today.
The reality of less money coming in and what need s to go out is not a pretty one.
However, I’ve decided to embrace my broke-ness and become really, really good at it. Mastery over Disastery.
I thought I’d share some of my adjustments for your edification and amusement.
I drive a 9-year-old Lexus that I bought used and is paid for. Part of Lexus’ suck up policy is to provide free car washes, free coffee and free 10 min massages on Mondays. Guess where I am on Monday mornings? Pathetic, but it makes me feel better to invest in joy without feeling frivolous.
I renewed my library card. If you’ve strayed from the library, I suggest you revisit it. You walk in, find what you like, and walk out with a promise not a payment Or can peruse online and they’ll notify you when it comes in. Free entertainment. Well not exactly if you pay taxes, but it feels like free and that’s what matters. You don’t feel guilty for pleasure. When you deprive yourself of pleasure resentment builds, but if you can still entertain yourself without hurting your bottom line, consider it a literary coup.
Even before I had to count my pennies, I made it my own personal challenge to only shop Thrift or resale for clothing. Why? Well, reuse of course. It’s first and foremost in every aspect of my life. But secondly, it’s a challenge for me to look like a million while spending $25.00. The funny thing is, when people compliment me on my outfit, I immediately feel compelled to tell them that the entire outfit cost under $10.00. Why? Why not keep the mystery? It’s because skirting (pun intended) the system makes me feel as if I’ve accomplished something in no harm no foul sort of way.
I don’t believe in something for nothing. I do, however, believe in creating something sensational out of next to nothing. After all, that belief is what caused me to start Murco. I had no money to do what I needed to do with my house, but all the desire, energy and vision to make it happen. If necessity is the mother of invention, then desperation is the “mutha” of reinvention.
Finding creative ways to sustain my lifestyle while being fiscally responsible makes me feel rich beyond measure. Although, being rich (aka not worried) feels pretty good, too.
You can’t judge a house by its cover!
I spend a lot of time during the week looking for houses that have the materials you’re looking for. It’s hard enough to sell you what you want, let alone what you don’t want. I learned the hard way, let me tell you. One of my favorite lines at auction is when buyers say, “There’s nothing here”. Obviously, there is something there, but if it’s not what you’re looking for then it’s a metaphoric nothing here. Metaphoric or not, I’ve learned that you’ve got to give the people what they want. And what you want is the best of the best for next to no money. Does that sum it up correctly? I certainly don’t blame you. I’d be the same way given the chance. I get it. That’s why you shop with Murco, and that’s why I’m not a princess yet.
Finding houses that “qualify” for auctions by virtue of having enough life in them is like housing triage. About half the houses that I look at deserve a quick and speedy death and go to that great Menard’s in the sky. The other half who are facing impending catastrophe get their vitals transplanted so that other houses can live a better life. Just call me Dr. Murphy. Those transplant candidates are our auction houses.
I can’t tell you how many times I have pulled up in front of a house and groaned– because I can see from the outside it’s a dog. Sure, the owner told me that the house was packed with reusable materials, but reusable does not covet-able make.
Sometimes I pull up to a house and its stunning edifice makes me literally squeal with delight. Yeah, baby! My buyers are going to poop their pants! Then I walk inside and want to puke my guts out. Damn it!
That just happened to me the other weekend, actually. Check out what I mean in the video below:
Sometimes however, I pull up and groan, only to walk in and be delightfully surprised. Jackpot! You can’t judge a house by its cover.
My point is that even though we’ve been a bit slow these days, I’m out there every day searching for something worthy to sell you. We’re just pulling out of our slowest time of the year so look for a flurry of houses coming in the near future.
Rest up, Rehabbers…… you’re going to need it!
An Ode to the Big A
It’s my mother Angela’s 84th birthday. I thought I’d take a moment to share something about this wacky woman. She & my father raised 6 (yes, six) girls in the 60’s when life and woman’s roles were being challenged and changed at breakneck speed. She was the pivot point between my father’s traditional take on life and her daughter’ taking life on… and she did it brilliantly.
I have a story for you that I’d like to share about my mother–
I was about 12 years old, watching my mother put her manicured hand down the disposal, pulling out wads of gunk in order to clear a jam. I was disgusted– I’m telling you, I don’t know what it was, but it deserved to die. I asked her how she could do that. She replied simply “Someone’s got to do it” She said it plainly, without neither hint of martyrdom nor pity, it just was fact.
Something about the way she said it resounded so deeply in me. There are things in this world that may not be glamorous, but the fact is, they need to be done. You can bitch about it, avoid it and hope someone else takes care of it, or you can just plunge in, and get the job done.
That’s how I feel about the work I do. I truly believe that it is our responsibility to make the most out of the materials we have and do our best to do right by Mother Earth. Would I rather be a princess? You bet, just for the shoe wear alone. But what I do– rather, what Murco does– has to be done. It just has to. There is a jam up of materials that we’re grinding up and disposing that still have life in them. Though less gross than gunk from a disposal, the job is far from glamorous. But I believe so firmly in the efficacy of our actions that it’s worth shelving the tiara for a while.
Just last year, my mother yielded her beloved tennis and yoga to her age. “I’m just tired” she said, no doubt old woman, you deserve to be. Love you, Mama.
Hook a sister up!
We all know that I’m what is referred to as a “natural salesman”. Rumor has it, when I was born I offered my umbilical cord to the highest bidder. But what you don’t realize that there’s a flip side. One of the most gratifying thing is for me to see the transaction implemented. Most of you who buy from me are strangers (although one can argue, no one is stranger than me). We don’t know each other on any other level than negotiating or work related. So I don’t get to see the items you purchase installed and enjoyed. You don’t write, you don’t call…. how I suffah…
Anyhow, the long winded-ness of this is that I have had the supreme pleasure of hooking up some sweet deals for my girlfriends! Here’s a quick story entitled: “My friend Therese and the baby she rode in on!”
Here’s the background: I couldn’t sell this random width maple flooring to save my soul. Time was running out, and for some reason, nobody would bite on what I considered to be a phenomenal opportunity. I knew I couldn’t let this gorgeous 3-year-old floor go without a fight. I also new it would be perfect for my friends Therese & Craig’s house. One little snag was that Therese was working full-time, had a small kid, and was 7 months pregnant. After some persistent insistence on my part (i.e. “Don’t be a stupid head, I know what I’m talking about! Just go see it!”) They made the 30 mile trek to see it and decided that, for once in my life, I was right. Together they removed over 1500 sq. ft. of stunning flooring. They also came up with an alternative way of nail removal– instead of prying out the nails Therese came up with simply roto-zipping off the end flush with the bottom of the wood. How simple is that? All from the woman who takes multitasking to an all new level….she roto zips! She gestates! She cooks! She works! 4 weeks after installation, her son was born. Forget the lullabies, turn on the roto-zip and he’s out like a light!
Each and every time I go over there I feel such tremendous gratification. They made the effort to extricate the flooring, they had it professionally installed and now their 4 children are running toward me along this beautiful floor. I get a chance to enjoy it in its second life. I see the warmth it brings and the beating it withstands effortlessly as life unfolds. Watching homemade shows, piano concerts, and a thousand parades in a room fortified with materials whose days were numbered. Now it numbers the days of a family. I am so proud to be a part of it.
Going to much better use than the landfill
This is what I love. To see materials in action. So please, please, take a moment sometime and take a picture of your installed items. I bet you I still have the pictures of the items when they were installed originally. I feel like such a proud mama. More than anything, I want you to enjoy what goes on amongst these now installed materials. It’s not just a “new” kitchen aesthetic that brings joy; it’s the thousand little kisses, meals, parties while surrounded by these materials that I think about.
Living on, living in and living through.
Yo yo, welcome to Jodi’s crib
When it comes to reclaimed materials, I don’t just talk the talk, I walk the walk!
Check out my tour below, filmed for Total Wrecklamation (ep. 9)
Death, be not proud
Let's make the most out of what we've got!
Let’s face it; houses, like humans, are not made to live forever. They live a lot longer than us, that’s for sure. And in the end, they don’t wind up with crazy chin hair or wearing diapers– which is good since that would look kind of weird.
Once the demise is evident, however, I’d like to share with you my vision of House Hospice…
As we know, hidden within every tragedy is a gift. With people, a deadly accident for one can turn into thousands of beneficiaries through organ donation. Sorry for your loss, but thanks for the kidney, Mr. Organ Donor, Sir. With Murco’s old house hospice, it’s basically the same, except for the fact that it’s done while the house is still alive (trust me, it doesn’t feel a thing) and its parts live on to improve the lives of those who worked hard to extract it. That’s stage one.
Stage two: Now stripped of all its reusable elements the house would be utilized as a staging area to improve the skills of America’s finest— police, SWAT, & fireman. Give them a hatchet and a smoke bomb and let them have at it! (Which is exactly what’s happening to the recent home we did in Hinsdale!) These guys have to learn in real settings, and because the house is doomed anyway, this is another way we can squeeze use out of the structure. Strapping on a pair of snappy suspenders does not a fireman make. Structured experience with fire and rigorous drills do. I’ve watched several fire trainings and I can confidently say that those men rock the suspenders. (Having said that, listen up suspender wearing men– I say this on behalf of women everywhere– unless you ARE a fireman and are actively putting out a fire; suspenders are not sexy, not even remotely. Trust me on this one.)
Stage three: The complete deconstruction (as opposed to traditional demo) so that the harvesting of the “bones” of the house could be utilized. You’ve probably heard that “old growth” lumber is superior to today’s product, so why throw it away? Makes perfect sense to me.
If we could implement—nay, mandate— this process of house hospice, then its death would not have been in vain.
Jodi vs. Nature
Thanks to 22+ inches of snow, I had quite an adventure Saturday when I had to open up a house in Hinsdale for another round of sales!
Choosing Auction Houses… sometimes you just don’t know!
A sure thing? Surely not. But worth it nonetheless!
Today, I’m speaking about the auction we had last weekend in Hinsdale on Jan. 29th.
There are some houses that I walk into and I think “Wow. This is what my buyers are looking for”. And then there are some that I walk into and think, “Dear God, somebody put this house out of its misery.” For this house, I walked into and thought both thoughts almost simultaneously. “They’re either going to hate it or they’re going to love it.”
Ambivalence ruled and so did my jangly nerves. But I decided to put it out there and let the market decide.
Many things factor into a successful auction, and certainly, attendance is high on the list. It ain’t no party if nobody shows. Another factor is weather, and believe me, it was not in our favor. We had several inches of snow on the ground and several inches of ice everywhere there wasn’t snow. And of course, no heat. Good times.
My experience tells me that my casual buyers are more inclined to cuddle up, not venture out. While my professional buyers are more inclined to make the trek, they’re banking on the fact that the weak of heart will puss out, causing the selling price to follow in weary accordance. It’s the auction equivalent of chum in the water. Despite my trepidation, venture out they did. The weak and the bold, the young and the old, slip-slided their way up the front porch steps– which had clearly lost their will to live– all in search of the great deal.
Of course, everyone got spectacular deals, but there is still much work to be done before the wrecking ball cometh. Which leads me to the “leftovers”. Rest assured, I work these houses until the fat lady literally sings while being trucked to the landfill!
Check out what remains from this auction here
