A Bit of History First

On any particular day, you can find Jan and I working away in the back of this little white house. For sixty some years, it has stood quietly in the shade of an ancient oak tree, overlooking the vineyards of the Guglielmo winery in the eastern foothills of Morgan Hill. "Little" is more of a term of endearment we use for the place, the white object in the photo below is actually its crazy roof line as viewed from up the hill.

In 2004, we (the Nunez family) purchased the property from our neighbors, more for the value of the acreage, than the house itself. Any sensible person, looking over that structure--tilting on its foundation, built of rotting scrap wood, electrically wired by a handyman with a death wish, and randomly added onto over the years, with as many quirky rooms and passages as the Winchester Mystery house--would have thought only one thing-- tear it down. That was the tentative plan. Then the older kids started coming home from college and one by one settled into the heated and air-conditioned portion of the house. Suddenly we were landlords with a list of repairs.

The house has it's good points. Our neighbors had remodeled the kitchen and bath, and added on the world's longest master bedroom closet. The living room has a fantastic view of El Toro mountain. There is a pool at the bottom of the terraced gardens, and the old red barn out back is now home to our small herd of Alpine milk goats.

The studio evolved over time, as a result of having to deal with the more run down rooms of the house.

An aging conservatory-like structure, surrounded with antique window panes, topped with a dirty fiberglass roof and laced with spider webs and all manner of junk. How it was ever a haven for plants, I can't imagine? That room all but cooks its six-legged and human occupants in the summer with a flood of marvelous light.

Adjoining the greenhouse, was a mudroom room (for lack of better description), covered in dark paneling, deteriorating carpet and decorated in "early American hunter." Both rooms were the inescapable walk-through to the main body of the house and needed a good deal of attending to. The renters wanted nothing to do with this task.

Being long time "do it yourself" kind of people, Ramon and I made several trips to the city dump, then rolled up our sleeves and pulled out the dust pan and paint brushes. A few months worth of general cosmetic work--paneling and shelves painted, drop ceiling tiles torn out, benches re-upholstered and new carpeting installed--things were cleaned up and we were generally pleased with the results.

And this is what the mud room looked like when Jan and I started making use of it to work on a variety of artistic projects associated with events for our children's high school. Two years later, when Austin and Alx graduated, we hung up our volunteer badges, and took up a more "please yourself first," delight directed orientation to all things artistic.

Every Girl Wants Her Very Own Playhouse

A doll house. What a thrill for a little girl. Jan's darling four year old grand daughter, Sabrina is clearly proud of hers.

Think of the hours we spend in childhood playing with small scale versions of home sweet home. A place for our dolls to have a tea party and our imagination's to dance. What little girl doesn't love to play queen of her castle and while-away the hours practicing for a one-day future role?

Time passes, little girls grow up, graduate from high school, hang the college degree on the wall and lo and behold find themselves smack in the middle of the real thing-- married to Prince Charming, living in the castle and raising babies. This seems to go on for a long time and involves a few minor challenges, like: no sleep, diapers, sore throats, car payments, birthday parties, little league, soccer, music lessons, mortgage payments, broken pipes, weeds, school functions you've volunterred to manage, lots and lots of cookies, adolescence, chauffeuring kids everywhere, insurance, IRS, and a variety of other issues no amount of "practicing" could ever prepare you for.

Then one day, before you know it, you find your self launching the last fledgling out of the nest. This is a marvelous moment, the culmination of all your hard work and sleepless nights, the pinnacle of Mount Everest you've been climbing for years. So, you throw a magnificent party and invite all your friends. The following morning you look in the mirror and marvel at the woman staring back. She looks suspiciously like your mother: the crows feet , the wrinkles, the age spots, the grey hairs. You think to yourself, hmm....I'm more than halfway down this garden path. What great thing am I going to do next?

And then it comes to you. Yes! PLAY HOUSE!!!!! Only this time, you'll fore go the dolls, because you've been there and done that, and there are so many other toys you'd like to play with--tile clippers, glass cutters, ceramic kilns, soldering irons, and a Taurus 3 Ring Saw.

Tea parties will still be on the agenda, but forget the tiny teapot--likewise the practical, everyday dishes and the good set of china. No, you'd much rather collect dishes in every color of the rainbow; and if one of them should break, you can calmly say, "Oh well," and put the pieces in a tuperware container for later recycling.

Decorating your playhouse will be summed up in two words: Eye Candy. That way you can have every style you want, all at the same time--paint the walls fushia and lime green , set out lovely jars of glitz and glitter, bottles full of baubles and beads, plaster the walls with crazy mosaics. And here's the most wonderful thing: nothing has to really match because you're not trying to impress anyone, but your own childlike sense of delight.

You can even ignore the dust bunnies for a good long while, because you're always remodeling and the maid is on vacation. Better yet, you can make a great big mess, shut the door and walk away, and no one, not even your conscience, is going to give you a bad time for being a less than perfect housekeeper.