Prologue

I am a person that thinks things should begin at the beginning.  Well, at least at the beginning of the Point of this blog, which is what led my husband and I to choose the horror story that is rehabbing a home whose deed just says OLD.

So, I suppose I should begin with one love story.  The Love Story of the Z.'s..... herein deemed the Paziamors.

My husband, Nate Paziamor and I met in Calculus II honors at Purdue University our freshman year of college.  He is a nearly albino in appearance man, so was hard to miss in general (or ever).  I was one of 4 females in a predominately male Engineer advanced course.  I was a biology student but always loved math (in my mind it is like a dance, with intricate steps I had always understood).  Although I was blissfully unaware of this, apparently he stalked my in his seating choice for a week or so before I was blinded by his whiteness one day (I am skeptical of this...who could miss a bright white person who is stalking you??) and accused him of dying his hair.  I dyed my hair ALL the time and considered it an expression of where I was mentally at that point in my life.  If you are curious what color my hair was then....it was BRIGHT RED.

As a further back-story to my bright red hair, my mother died while I was a senior in high school.  While this could seem sob-story-esque, I say this because it has pertinence to my choices later in life; namely BOTH my decision to attend and later leave medical school.  But, my hair was red because my life had imploded upon itself (yes I have a flair for the dramatic) and I intended to go "nuts" in college....to a certain extent.  That extent seemed aptly covered by having a boyfriend in a fraternity my freshman year, risqué yet safe due to the CHRISTIAN aspect of it (har-har).  In defense of my husband, there was nothing risky or bad about him, nor will there ever be.  He is the safe bet.  He is an honest, kind-hearted man, with his own world and way of thinking.  He has always enjoyed hobbies that he gets VERY intense about, in college it was mostly cars....now it is politics and religion (but I digress).  One day I aspire to be one of his hobbies ;).

In retrospect, I was shallow and trite; these are good descriptive terms for a late teen who thought herself more mature than most by having been "refined" by death of a parent etc.  (Now in my opinion, parental death can cause stunting of maturity due to the self destructive thought processes it provokes etc).  I was lucky to have kept my head on straight with my choice of significant other, and personally feel that I met Nate for a reason during a time of chaos in my life and mental state.

Anyway, back to meeting my future hubbadub, we started discussing music I liked.  Being a person who mimics others, I said I loved Pink Floyd, because my brother was currently chatting up it's intricacies with me frequently and I am not great at being original.  Nate burned me a Pink Floyd CD (likely the Wall since I was also mimicking my brother's fascination with it's uses with the Wizard of Oz- UPDATE hubby says he quibbles with this statement since Dark side of the Moon is the Oz one!  I still think he burned me the Wall though so I'm HALF right), which I thought was an incredibly sweet gesture ....and then I found out he owned a car AND was in a Christian fraternity.  I was sold and the rest is pretty similar to many "boy meets girl in college, they fall in love, and they marry" stories many people have.  Of course there is more love and romance and MANY colorful and (dare I presume?) fascinating nuances to that story, but there is no room for that in a prologue, which is droning on for a blog....and wandering desperately out of control....

We married after my senior year of college on May 20, 2006 and became Mr. and Mrs. Paziamor.  I had been accepted to Ohio State University College of Medicine and had successfully delayed my matriculation for a year.  In order to delay matriculation, one must have an acceptable reason.  My reason: I wanted to solidify my marriage prior to beginning a career path purported (rightfully) to cause MANY divorces (okay, statistically speaking, is it causal or correlative?  I argue for CAUSAL!).  In fact, I believe in orientation they claimed the divorce rate in doctors who were married BEFORE beginning medical school had a divorce rate of somewhere around 75-90%.  Not altogether surprising, but dang....devastating!

During this year of marital bliss, we enjoyed many youthful meanderings in parks; enjoyed our first two puppies, two bichon frises: a boy named Dookie and a girl named Maya; and (here is the meat of why this has happened to us) spent many hours watching a certain TV station that explored the potential positive monetary ramifications of rehabbing old homes and reselling them for profit.  My husband, of course being a mechanical engineering student, also was frequently working late into the night with complex engineering what-have-yous and whatnots.  (I dunno, I'm not an engineer).  My vocation for the year was working as a laboratory technician in Purdue University's Toxicology Department (one of the papers I am published on).  But when I was home, I envisioned a future, with a house my tinkering husband would enjoy fixing up (I mean, the man LOVES to start projects....notice I say START) while I worked diligently toward my medical degree.  Four years down the road we would sell our freshly rehabbed house and make a boatload, buy the house of our dreams, and I would start residency and start an American Dream life with 2.5 children and two fluffy white dogs.

It was an age of naivety, youthful aspirations, and hopes.  Let us call it "The Age of Bright Eyed and Bushy-Tailedness" (I believe my mother would approve of this use of one of her classic sayings).  Life, as it were, is not made of sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows everywhere!

This provides the backdrop for our home we purchased in November 2007.