Saying Goodbye to our California Cottage

People always ask how I feel about leaving the home I poured so much heart into.

We bought our dream California cottage just two years ago. Built in 1949, it’s the kind of place I’ve dreamed of since I was a kid—the “Miss Honey” house (yes, the one from Matilda). Full of charm, a lot of character in the best ways, and surrounded by neighbors who have lived there for generations. It’s the type of place where, if you hear a scream, people rush out of their homes ready to help. We’ve chased runaway dogs, backed our neighbor in a contractor dispute, and hosted countless dinners and backyard parties. A dream, really.

But as a military family, you learn good things don’t often last. Orders come every few years. Across the country, across the world. So, despite knowing our time was limited, I dove full-send into turning our house into a home—especially the backyard.

The day we got our keys, a dream come true.

As I mentioned in a previous post, I’ve moved a lot. Since 18, I’ve lived in more places than I can count (one year I moved three times). I even bought a 30’ school bus in 2021 just to simplify the moving process. That bus took me coast to coast, twice, living in it off-and-on. She even became full-time home for six months while Morgan was deployed to Guam. So when we decided to settle down and buy a home, I was nervous. Would the restless, problem-solving, chaos-loving part of me die off?

Turns out, nope.

Adding a little spunk to the front of our home - facebook marketplace is an amazing place for DIYer's. This chair set was made by a retired couple, making furniture on the side for extra income.

Almost immediately after moving in, I threw myself into making the place feel like “ours.” Cozy, safe, and soft—my style of nesting, no matter how temporary. But this time, the scale was different. We started with small weekend projects: cleaning up the backyard, turning the garage into a home gym, knocking out a window to build a pantry. It was fun, new, and we were learning together.

Then Morgan deployed again. Because our two very high-maintenance pups need special care, I paused my usual work trips to DC and stayed put for six months. That’s when I really went into turbo mode.

For context: During the first deployment, I lived full-time on the bus, visited 15+ cities, weathered a tornado in South Dakota, and somehow kept my business running. I thrived (though it was incredibly challenging).

I needed that chaos. I needed that constant problem solving. This time around, it was me, the dogs, and our little cottage.

With a minimal project budget and no flights on the calendar, I got to work. I started with redoing our closet, adding shelves and new rods. Then came painting—every single room, even ceilings. (Painting is therapy, honestly.) I built floating shelves in the kitchen and bedroom, an L-shaped bench, sewed our Roman blinds for each room. I refinished a massive Facebook Marketplace dresser that took 60+ hours, most of them spent sanding intricate details. Then I decided to take on the beast: laying a flagstone patio.

Before my ADHD hyper-focus. It's absolutely a superpower (more on my love for ADHD later)

Top left to bottom right : 1. Removing the window to create space for our exposed pantry. 2. Progress image of the bench build. 3. Finished bench, roman blinds and seat cushions, all homemade. 4. Reupholstered seats to match the curtains & the finished floating shelves.

I loved this project - working on our main bedroom, creating the cozy haven for us.

The only project that almost broke me, refinishing this massive dresser.

Here’s how it went: Not only was I creating an outdoor living space for us, I had to fix a major drainage issue in our back and side yard. I chose to remove part of the french drainage system, grade the flagstone away from the home and add a dry creek. First, I dug out a 20' x 15' space, 12 inches deep. It was brutal. After two days with just a shovel and pickaxe, I gave in and rented a jackhammer. Next, came gravel, then decomposed granite, each layer carefully tamped down. I had a one-month deadline before Morgan's welcome home party. At a certain point, I caved and hired three workers to help lay the 100+ pound flagstone pieces. We finished it in a day.

The backyard when we moved in and the progress of removing the failing drainage system.

Our backyard was in dire need of help- both aesthetically and with drainage.

I started digging the backyard by hand with a pick ax. I do not recommend - jackhammers are the way to go.

Finally starting to see some progress!

Still, something was missing. So I built an 8’ farmhouse table. Then a hanging bed swing, which quickly became my favorite spot in the house.

You see, I’m an entertainer at heart. I need different spaces for different vibes—a cozy corner for reading and napping, a sunny coffee nook for slow mornings with my wife, and most importantly, a big table that can seat at least ten people. Feeding people is my love language, and I’ve always believed a home should rise to meet those moments.

Top left to bottom right : 1. The process of building a 8' farmhouse table. 2. So proud of this hanging bed/swing, it's the perfect nap spot. 3. The checkerboard pattern I painted to add some character to our back yard. 4 - 6 The completed project (for now...)

By the time Morgan came home, every inch of that place had been touched. It had become something sacred—a healing vortex of sorts. People walk in and instantly relax. You can feel it. And I don’t take that for granted.

Now, with just days before we head to Japan, people ask how I feel leaving it behind.

“You put so much work into it!” “Didn’t you just move in?” “Are you sad to leave?”

This space gave me purpose. It helped me rediscover myself while healing parts I didn’t even know were wounded. This beautiful home wrapped our family in safety, allowing me to finally lower my guard and let go of the constant fight-or-flight mode I’d been living in.

I won’t sugarcoat it—it’s hard. We’re relocating for three years and decided to rent it out instead of selling. But saying "see you later" to this house feels a lot like saying goodbye to a version of myself I spent years building. And yet, I’m also incredibly grateful—for the time we had, for what this space gave us, and for the new adventure ahead.

We made a home. And now, it’s time to carry that feeling with us, wherever we go.

Moral of the story? Don’t wait to make a space your own—no matter how temporary. You never know the healing it might offer. Get your hands dirty. Try the things that scare you. Don’t wait for someone to do it with you or for you—you are strong enough, smart enough, and creative enough to take on more than you ever imagined. (Trust me, I speak from experience.)