homearama-lama-ding-dong {life}

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The East Beach of Norfolk is one of my very favorite neighborhoods in the city. I definitely hear and completely understand the complaints that there are shades of Pleasantville in its carefully coiffed streets and that it's more Barbie Dreamland than real neighborhood, but those pastel shingles! Those metal roofs! The wide avenues! The Chesapeake Bay! What's not to love? Much as I love East Beach, I don't actually ever see us moving there (not enough outdoor space for my husband, I'm thinking), but that didn't mean I wasn't about to get my grubby mitts on any chance I could to take a look inside some of these stunning homes.

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Ten houses make up the East Beach Homearama, which is sponsored by the Tidewated Builder's Association and celebrated its 30th anniversary this year. This fall's Homearama marks the third time the event has been held at East Beach, an unprecidented repetition. Our community is justifiably proud of this neighborhood.

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Each house was fully decorated and cleverly named, from Sweet Virginia Breeze to the Coastal Haven. It's a bit overwhelming, actually and lends itself to that air of unreality. (also, we're looking to add one of those cool barn doors in our kitchen hallway)

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It's not that I didn't find each house beautiful, just a bit too "done" for my taste. I might need to do a good old fashioned house tour of homes people actually live in. All but two of these homes were already sold (the two left were for sale for $639,000 and $1.7M, respectively), and pretty much every single item of furniture was for sale too. If you can look past all of the perfectly-matched throw pillows and carefully-placed table runners, there are a lot of lovely details.

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Check out the under-stairwell wine cabinet.

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This sweet room was a third floor surprise. What a treat for kids. A really special space to dream your way to growing up.

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The neighborhood is designed so that the houses have detached garages at the back (with courtyards in between) and front porches opening onto wide avenues. Above the garages are carriage houses, finished as rental income or in-law suites. Often, for me and my friend Jean, these sweet, small spaces were the best spots of all. This carriage house, pictured above was a studio (I'm standing at the top of the stair.), but several were one bedroom apartments.

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They save the million dollar home (the first ever bayfront home featured for Homearama) until the end.

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The views here were the best part.

I told Neel when I got home that it was a little like a 10-day European vacation. You get to Florence at the end, see Il Duomo and think, "Oh, another 15th Century church." Yeah, it's just like that. I was a bit overwhelmed by the end and I can't even remember the kitchen of the last house, but there were some definitely themes running through all the homes.

Mudrooms were big. I didn't get any photos, (which seems odd, since that was almost my favorite part of each house we toured), but many back doors opened into mud/laundry rooms. Also, of the ten homes we toured, only three of the master baths had TUBS. What the monkey? When you do a tour like this, you tend to pace yourself with other groups. Jean and I slid along with another pair of women who were in and out of the bathrooms around the same times we were, and they were just as dumbfounded. Gorgeous showers. Rain shower heads from high ceilings and multiple nozzles along the walls. Benches and notches for all your soaps and loofahs. But very few tubs. We were not fans of this plan. Lots of open floor plans, of which I am a fan. But lots of extra eating spaces, which I don't understand. Several houses had an open kitchen/dining/living room, and I'm all for that, and I'm all for eating at the kitchen island too. But an extra breakfast nook or formal dining room? Too much. And often times the master bed/bath suite was downstairs when the rest of the bedrooms (and a play area) was up. I wondered, even before Callum is living somewhere else, if Neel and I had a master "suite" (ha, now that's funny) downstairs, would I ever go upstairs? Worth contemplating.

And still. I loved every minute of it. Every single square inch. There's a fun article in the digital version of our local paper (although who took their photos?) about Homearama, capturing some of it's best parts. It's all about the little pieces of the houses.

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And this view.

I am in love with ocean {life}

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I told you last Friday that I started my day with a walk along the Atlantic. I clearly need to do this more often. We're not all that close to the ocean, really. I mean, I know I shouldn't complain, but when your preference is to step outside or cross the street or walk down the block, well sometimes the drive can seem a bit far. Still, after dropping Callum off at school, it's only an extra 20 minutes before my toes are in the sand, and I can feel every fibre of my soul relax.

The beach is different in September. The light is lower and more golden. The bite in the air invigorates. The crowds are gone, minus a few loping doggies, happily roaming off leash as their people lag behind. I seemed to be the most purposeful walker, most of the very few other people I saw were much less hurried. My goal for the walk was to unplug entirely, but I didn't have my watch, so I brought my phone. In a way, I'm glad I did. I took these pictures, and I got to see each of your suggestions about what pictures to take. I felt disconnected and yet connected too. I thought about the blog a lot and taking photographs. I let my thoughts drift and recede like the waves. I got practical. Is it possible to continue these walks through the winter? It doesn't get that cold here. I have a friend from high school who just announced a move to Alaska on facebook, a move that she said she was planning on surviving with these. I wonder if that would make walking on a winter beach manageable. (Or in Nantucket, right, Megan?) Or if it's even necessary! Maybe I should ask Theresa to do a Wear in the World for Winter Beach Walks. Her beaches are a lot warmer in the winter are mine though. I thought about bringing one of my own doggies. Provided she'd earned the privilege. Maybe one day. I thought about coming alone, each week, or sometimes with company. It all sounds good.

I didn't stay as long as I wanted (had to pee), but it did me a world of good. When a place sings to your soul, and it really is right outside your door, why shouldn't you make an effort to get there more?

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Callum and I went back yesterday (he had the day off school) with every intention for a nice long walk. When we got to our spot, however, we were mesmerized by a low, low tide and swarms of dolphins swiming close to shore. It was hard not to get rooted. Cal ran some seven-second sprints to get ready for a meet he has today, but mostly we drifted from spot to spot, watching the dolphins leap. We could have stayed all day.

Ocean

~Mary Oliver

I am in love with Ocean

lifting her thousands of white hats

in the chop of the storm,

or lying smooth and blue, the

loveliest bed in the world.

In the personal life, there is

always grief more than enough,

a heart load for each of us

on the dusty road. I suppose

there is a reason for this, so I will be

patient, acquiescent. But I will live

nowhere except here, by Ocean, trusting

equally in all blast and welcome

of her sorrowless, salt self.