What Makes a House a Home

I have a very tall friend named Dave. I love Dave. He's one of those beautiful types; he sees wonder in the world and gets lost in the very moment.

Dave is also a bit of a... well, klutz. My home bares a scar that proves this. He managed to knock a ceiling fan into the ceiling. Now there is a scuff where there was once a perfectly smooth, white ceiling. We paid extra to have our ceilings left smooth.

And yet, I sent Dave a message telling him that I will not be cleaning his scuff. Not because I am stupid short, which I am. But because every time I look up and see the scuff I smile.


I have a brand new, rebuilt home. Everything is pretty and shiny. Putting this house back together again, my biggest fear was that it would end up a cookie cutter, bland, Florida home.

That's the thing nobody ever tells you about Florida, it is a massive, beige, strip mall state. They build pop-up villages that have all the personality of an insipid surfer boy.

Fortunately for me, I married a woman with an amazing eye for taking a white box and turning it into something lived in and homey.

I like graffiti street art, old buildings, big city noise.; character that comes from masses of people in a confined space trying to express who they are.

So that stupid scuff on my ceiling helps make this shiny new house feel like a home. Remember that time Dave came and stayed with us...

The art on my office walls, my graffiti street art.

The crashing waves of The Gulf, my city noise.

Eventually, the walls of Chez Martinez will be covered with pieces of all of our adventures. The floors will have traffic areas. The smell of fresh paint will give way to smells of home.

Just do not cover that scuff on my ceiling, please.


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