Super Eco

Photo credit: cafemama, flickr

Welcome to our first installment of 'Take My House' where we'll talk about all the things you love and hate about your house (or apartment or condo), as well as steps any of us can take to lessen the carbon load of our dwellings, improve indoor air quality, and green our decor without breaking the bank or reinventing the wheel.

But first, let me give you a little background.

I loved my first house. A 1927 Arts & Crafts bungalow in the Waldo neighborhood of Kansas City, it had a screened-in porch, a Mission staircase, original hardwoods and a window seat. It was beautiful, divine … and drafty. Despite our efforts to cover the enormous, single-paned windows with plastic and add insulation to the attic, the icy midwestern winter winds crept in through the large keyhole and under the doorjambs. In the summer, the ducts built only for heating couldn’t properly move air to the second level, forcing us to add window A/C units to the bedrooms or move outside to the sleeping porch, which is what I’m sure the original owners did. My home office, which had no accessible outside windows, would regularly soar to 87 degrees in the summer time as I wrote in sweat-soaked gym shorts. I loved that house, but I also came to hate it.

The combination of the crazy-high electric and gas bills and the lack of reliable schools finally drove us to the suburbs, where we bought Chateau Travolta, a 1977 traditional two-story house under bank foreclosure in a suburb next to a beautiful lake. We bought the house for the neighborhood, for the water access, for the schools, but we quickly realized we’d also chosen an energy-efficient palace where heating bills stabilized below $200 even in the coldest months, a house with all standard windows and fittings. Ahh, bliss.

The only problem? Décor. Like I said, Chateau Travolta was built in the late 1970s, and it comes by its name honestly, featuring a chocolate-marble-swirl seashell sink, all brass fittings and light fixtures hung from chains. And borders—lots of borders. And wood paneling. A nightmare to the contemporary eye.

We’ve been in Chateau Travolta since May 2007, and in that time we’ve begun what’s sure to be the long process of remodeling. We’ve replaced carpet, torn out wood paneling, installed drywall, scraped wallpaper, laid hardwood floors, hung light fixtures, painted walls. And we’re only about halfway done.

Sometimes as I stare at the walls of Chateau Travolta and remember the picture rails and crown molding of my former home, I get a little misty. I miss the push-button light switches, even though they were an electrocution hazard. I miss the landing of the Mission staircase, the door-sized window placed there giving me a view of my side yard and the street outside. I’d picture the original owners standing there in period dress watching the horseless carriages rolling down the street of a young and vibrant Kansas City. I’d wonder if there were ghosts.  

As we remodel Chateau Travolta, we’ve tried to recapture some of the charm of our old bungalow. We turned the dining room into a library with a hardwood floor and a wall of bookcases. We replaced all the door handles and hinges with brushed nickel hardware, wondering if brushed nickel would become the brass of the millennium. We painted the aging trim white and used similar paint colors to what we had in the old house, deep yellows that make the white mats of carefully collected artwork pop against black frames.

We’ve taken what we could from the old house—the colors, the textures—and tried to integrate them into what could be a very boxy two-story house. We’ll probably knock out some walls to open it up and give it that same airy feel, but in some ways we’ll never recapture the light that came from such large windows, and so many of them. The old house was almost wall-less with its nine huge windows on the first floor and looming, open staircase. 

So I think of my old house as we continue to remodel Chateau Travolta, but I also think of eco-friendly practices, of my carbon footprint, of recycling or reusing the parts we tear out. As I explore various methods of remodeling here in this new column, I’ll point out how to responsibly dispose, recycle or reuse your left-over materials. I’ll compare the pros and cons of various building materials. I’ll be honest about what we chose to use and why.  

I hope you’ll share your stories of remodeling, too—what works for you, what doesn’t. I hope you’ll be honest about whether or not you like your bamboo flooring (we chose to go with hardwoods and carpet, and I’ll explain why in that installment). I’m interested in what kind of paint you use, whether you buy or rent tools, whether you buy new or used furniture and how your artistic vision (if you have one) plays out in your home. 

The economy is tough right now, and many of us are finding we can't sell our houses, even if finances or drafty windows call for it. That reality brings our focus inward to what we have control over—our immediate environment. We can beautify what we have, and we can do so inexpensively and by lessening our impact on the environment, if we’re prudent. I’m excited to discuss topic-by-topic the options we do have to enhance the homes we live in.

Maybe learning to love the one you’re with isn’t such a bad idea, eh?