Creativity - it Runs in the Blood. And, The American Dream

My dad tends to scoff at us when we call him an artist.  Which is ridiculous because anyone who can take something that looks like this:

and make it look like this:

is an artist.  And has vision.  And has talent.  But I'm not biased or anything.  ;-)  Not only is he my father but my husband and I were blessed with the opportunity to buy this lovely little house from my parents!  Here are few more before/after photos of our new humble abode:

Like all of us girls in the shop my father, Mark Mansfield of Marksman Builders, has a great love and respect for old things.  This little honey of a house was built in 1918.  That's the original hardwood floor there in the studio and all of the original completely restored, double hung, sash windows (wavy glass and all).  Other than that, the house was stripped down to the framing and built new from the inside out.  New plumbing, new electrical, new roof, beefed up foundation, insulation (yay!), heating and air (double yay!).  We shouldn't have anything to worry about for many years to come.  I'm absolutely thrilled to have all of the wonderful charm that older homes have to offer with all of the worry-free, grounded-outlets, great-water-pressure, cleaner, luxuries that new homes have to offer.  Plus, my dad did it - I never thought I'd have the opportunity to own a home that father built/remodeled.

PLUS!  We put a 1930 Florence in it:

We're cooking with gas now, baby.  I haven't been able to cook on a gas stove since I lived with my parents and I have sorely missed it!

So, there you have it.  Our little slice of the American Dream.