I Think I’m Falling in Love With This House

Contractors, mice, one ridiculous refrigerator, horses in the pasture, and somehow, Outcrop is almost booked.

The last couple of days, I’ve been reminded again just how incredible this community developing around Outcrop Manor already is.

Your curiosity, your investment in this journey, your messages, your ideas, your encouragement, it has honestly been extraordinary.

And I feel terrible that I haven’t been able to keep up with the blogs the way I wanted to.

The truth is, I have a LOT going on right now, and you guys have been so understanding about that. But so much has been happening at Outcrop that I wanted to sit down and give you a real update, not just the pretty pictures, but what it actually looks like to take this enormous house in the country that has been sitting mostly abandoned and try to turn it into a beautiful retreat home.

Because apparently that involves contractors, mice, refrigerators, beds, incense, coffee machines, horses, and me questioning my decision-making abilities at least three times a day.

And somewhere in the middle of all of this craziness, something else has been happening that I don’t think I’ve really stopped to appreciate.

You guys are booking this house.

Not when it’s completely finished.

Not after you’ve seen every bedroom perfectly decorated.

Not after I’ve figured out every single little detail.

You are booking it while you are watching us build it.

And that means more to me than I can explain.

We started with approximately 225 spots in our fully hosted retreats, and we are down to around 30. Our private retreat calendar is also almost completely booked, with only a small handful of weekends still remaining.

I’ll come back to why that matters, because I really want people who have been thinking about Outcrop to understand the way our booking model is going to work.

But first, let me tell you what has actually been happening around here.

Apparently My Husband and I Own Two Different Houses

Let’s start with the contractors.

The roof has been really interesting.

We knew when we bought the house that eventually the roof would need to be replaced. That wasn’t a surprise. What HAS been surprising is how difficult it has been to get realistic information about when that actually needs to happen.

I’ve had contractors come out and basically give me the doom-and-gloom version.

The roof should have been replaced three years ago.

Everything is terrible.

The cost is astronomical.

Naturally.

Eventually I got so fed up that I handed the roof project over to my husband.

He talks to them and suddenly we own a completely different house.

The roof isn’t falling apart.

There are no signs of leaking.

It needs to be maintained and watched, but realistically we may have another three years before we have to replace it.

Interesting.

And unfortunately, this has happened with almost every contractor we’ve brought in.

When they talk to me, it’s the worst-case scenario and the highest possible price.

When they talk to my husband, somehow everything gets much more reasonable.

Which is incredibly frustrating because my husband works.

If we need him to meet contractors, we’re often waiting for evenings or weekends, while I’m the one actually managing the house and trying to keep this entire project moving.

But we’ve gotten the things done that really matter.

Before I cared about decorating, cute bedding, furniture, crafting stations, or anything else, I wanted to know the house itself was safe.

The water.

The electricity.

Heating and cooling.

Locks.

Windows.

Air quality.

Those were my priorities.

The broken windows are now in the process of being replaced, systems are being checked, and slowly we’re getting through those big-ticket safety items.

And then there was the mouse situation.

You have to hear this story because it perfectly sums up my contractor experience.

The $17,000 Mouse Situation

Outcrop sits on 35 acres in the country, and the house had been vacant for years.

At some point before we bought it, it had even been left open.

When we first came through, we saw some rodent droppings. There was also a bird’s nest.

Honestly, none of that shocked me.

You’re in the country.

Nobody had been taking care of the house.

Doors had been left open.

Of course things got inside.

But I was absolutely NOT going to open a retreat house with any possibility that we had an active rodent problem.

So I called a professional company.

And they scared the crap out of me.

They told us there was really no way of knowing how many mice were inside the house.

They put down basic mouse traps, sprayed the outside for bugs, even though I was more concerned about bugs INSIDE, and charged us around $700.

We knew we’d probably catch some mice.

And we did.

Before they came back, I personally went around and checked the traps.

I found about five mice throughout this nearly 7,000-square-foot house.

Then the company came out and told me they had caught TWENTY.

Twenty?

I thought, OK, maybe there were traps I didn’t see.

Maybe I missed something.

Then they told me the best solution was to remove the insulation and replace it with special insulation that rodents couldn’t get into.

It would supposedly solve the problem.

The cost?

$17,000.

And do you know what I said?

Yes.

Do it immediately.

Because if we genuinely had a mouse infestation, I wasn’t going to mess around.

I was willing to spend the money because I do not want people staying here if I have any reason to believe there’s a problem.

But one thing didn’t make sense to me.

If we have mice actively getting into the house, shouldn’t we first figure out HOW they’re getting in?

The home had previously been left open, but by this point the bank had secured it. Doors were shut. Windows were shut. We were there constantly.

If there was still this massive active problem, where were they coming from?

The company told us they’d return every couple of days to check the traps and that we could possibly be catching around ten mice a day.

Then they didn’t come back for a week.

When they finally came, it happened to be the day they were preparing to start the big $17,000 job.

I had already checked the traps myself.

Nothing.

Then I hear these young guys upstairs in the attic talking to each other.

They didn’t realize I could hear them.

One of them is basically saying, “Are we supposed to tell her the truth about what’s up here? I don’t want to get fired, but I also don’t want her paying for something she doesn’t need.”

Now I’m listening.

Then I hear them trying to count rodent droppings.

“Look over there.”

“Nope, that’s debris.”

“What about that?”

“No.”

Finally one of them asks how many actual pellets they think are up there.

The answer?

Maybe one to three.

I’m standing downstairs thinking, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

Eventually they realized I was there.

I told them, “Don’t worry. I’m not getting you fired. But we’re canceling this.”

Because if the guys physically standing in my attic are quietly debating whether they should tell me I don’t actually need the work I was about to pay $17,000 for, I’m getting another opinion.

The conversation with the original company after that was unbelievable.

At one point, I was being threatened that I was going to pay regardless because they had already sent people out there, and comments were made about my husband not being there.

That was it.

We had another company come out and give us a second opinion.

They found no evidence that we currently have some huge infestation happening inside Outcrop.

What they told us was much more realistic.

We live in the country.

There will always be mice outside.

There will be bugs.

There will be spiders.

A mouse can squeeze through an unbelievably tiny opening, and if a door gets left open long enough, something may eventually decide to explore.

So prevention and regular maintenance matter.

THAT makes sense to me.

My goal isn’t to pretend that Outcrop exists in some magical bubble where nature doesn’t exist.

My goal is to make sure the house is exceptionally clean, monitored, maintained, safe, and comfortable.

But after that experience, I told my husband:

“You’re dealing with the contractors.”

Apparently I either look like a sucker or I have a giant sign over my head saying, “Please give this woman the most expensive possible solution.”

And Then I Bought a Refrigerator

Now let’s talk about one of MY brilliant decisions.

The refrigerator space in the kitchen is HUGE.

I had options.

I could frame it in.

I could add shelving.

I could add a second smaller refrigerator.

Or…

I could buy a giant commercial refrigerator.

Ladies.

You already know what I did.

I bought the gigantic refrigerator.

I was so excited.

We’re feeding groups of people!

We need refrigerator space!

This is perfect!

Except…

It doesn’t have a freezer.

And it doesn’t have a water dispenser.

Which also means it doesn’t make ice.

I did not think this through.

So now we have this giant commercial refrigerator sitting there looking magnificent while I’m realizing that I still need somewhere to freeze things AND somewhere to make ice.

The freezer is going in the garage, which is completely fine.

Except there isn’t currently a water line in the garage for an ice maker.

Which means…

We would have to hire a plumber.

Another contractor.

I just stood there looking at this refrigerator.

Somehow it is both enormous and smaller than I expected all at the same time.

But it’s fine.

It’s absolutely fine.

We love it.

We’re figuring it out.

Let’s Talk About the Water

We have well water at Outcrop, which I think is another interesting part of owning a property like this.

We have a very nice whole-house filtration system, and we’re testing the water regularly to make sure everything is exactly as it should be.

But I also understand that some people simply aren’t accustomed to drinking well water.

So I’m still deciding whether we should have water delivered or create another option for people who would prefer that.

As far as ice?

My current solution is ice machines.

One upstairs.

One downstairs.

Problem solved.

Hopefully.

The Bedrooms Are Finally Looking Like Bedrooms

About half of the beds are assembled, and we should have the rest finished very soon.

And now that furniture is actually going into the rooms, I’ve realized something.

These rooms are BIG.

When we were planning everything, I kept measuring and wondering whether full-size beds would comfortably fit.

Now I’m looking around thinking:

We probably could have put queens in all of them.

Do I have a little regret?

Yes.

But this is also exactly why I’m trying really hard not to rush everything.

We are starting with comfortable beds, good mattresses, functional rooms, and the things people actually need.

Then we are going to grow the decor over time.

Better bed frames.

More artwork.

More layers.

More personality in each bedroom.

I could spend a fortune trying to completely finish every single room before we open, but I’m actually starting to think that would be a mistake.

I want to watch how people use this house.

Where do you naturally put your things?

What do you wish was next to your bed?

Where does everybody gather?

What looks beautiful but isn’t functional?

What do you realize you need after staying here for four days?

I’m genuinely excited for our first groups to help us figure some of that out.

You’re not just coming to Outcrop after it’s built.

You’re part of helping Outcrop become what it’s eventually going to be.

I Have Very Strong Feelings About Luggage Racks

Here’s the kind of thing currently keeping me occupied.

Luggage stands.

I know they’re traditional.

Hotels have them.

Retreat houses have them.

I don’t really like them.

You put your suitcase on top and that’s basically it.

When I go to retreats, there is almost always somebody who goes to bed earlier than everyone else.

So before bed, I’m sneaking into the room trying to unzip my suitcase without waking anyone up.

I’m looking for pajamas.

I’m pulling out clothes for the next morning.

Then the next morning I’m trying to quietly get into my suitcase again.

I keep thinking there has to be a better solution.

So I’m considering putting short cube organizers in the bedrooms.

Your suitcase could sit on top.

Then underneath you could have a cube for shoes, pajamas, tomorrow’s clothes, whatever you want accessible.

Before you head downstairs for the evening, pull out what you need.

Then nobody has to rummage through a suitcase after someone else has gone to bed.

Will I have to give instructions on how I envision people using the cubes?

Probably.

At this point, I feel like this whole house might eventually need an instruction manual.

How Should Outcrop Smell?

Here’s another thing I didn’t anticipate obsessing over.

The smell.

Because the house sat empty for so long, it doesn’t have anyone’s “house smell.”

It had more of a dusty, closed-up smell when we first started working here.

So I burned some incense.

Terrible decision.

Now every time I smell incense I want to bang my head against the wall.

It is WAY too strong.

A woman at the retreat I was at this weekend suggested Aroma360 and creating more of a luxury hotel-style scent in the house.

I love the IDEA of that.

What I don’t want is for you to walk into Outcrop and feel like someone poured perfume into the air vents.

Some diffusers and plug-ins are so strong that they almost give you a headache.

I want something extremely subtle.

Clean.

Fresh.

Something you barely notice but somehow makes the house feel beautiful.

We’ve also started putting little air purifiers throughout the house because something I care very much about is people breathing clean air while they’re here.

So I genuinely want your opinion on this one.

Do you like the idea of a VERY subtle luxury-hotel scent?

Or would you rather the house be essentially fragrance-free?

But Let’s Get to Something Extremely Important

Coffee.

I am ridiculously excited about our Ninja coffee machines.

They do everything.

Cold brew.

Fancy coffees.

K-Cups.

A full pot of coffee.

Basically, whatever type of coffee person you are, I’m trying to have you covered.

We have two.

One upstairs.

One downstairs.

I know there are much bigger things happening in this house, but somehow these coffee machines make me ridiculously happy.

And this is where I’m starting to picture what Outcrop will actually feel like once everybody is here.

Imagine getting up early while the rest of your room is sleeping.

You come out, make your coffee, maybe sit outside for a few minutes and look across the property.

Then you wander back downstairs in your pajamas and spend the entire day creating with your friends.

You don’t have to clean your house first.

You don’t have to clear your projects off the dining-room table for dinner.

You don’t have to think about where everyone is going to sit.

You just get to be here.

That’s what I want this place to feel like.

I’m Excited. And I’m Nervous.

We have a TON of decorations.

And somehow nowhere near enough decorations.

That’s what happens when you decorate nearly 7,000 square feet.

You bring in what feels like an entire store, spread it throughout the house, and somehow it disappears.

I’m trying to slow myself down.

I need to let Outcrop tell me what it needs.

And I have to admit something.

I’m nervous.

Really nervous.

Every time I put something out there, part of me wonders whether someone is going to notice something I forgot.

Did I think about this?

Did I miss that?

Is somebody going to walk into a bedroom and think it isn’t decorated enough?

Is there something obvious that I somehow never considered?

And then I walk around the house and remind myself:

This place is already beautiful.

Even if I stopped decorating tomorrow, it would still be a beautiful house.

It needs to be safe.

It needs to be exceptionally clean.

It needs to be comfortable.

It needs to be welcoming.

And then it gets to evolve.

Outcrop does not have to be completely finished on Day One.

And honestly, I don’t know that I ever want it to be “finished.”

I want it to keep getting better.

AND WE MIGHT HAVE HORSES

Now for something that has me way too excited.

One of our neighbors mentioned that he might want to graze his horses on our property.

Do I want that?

YES.

Very much yes.

I’m desperately hoping this wasn’t one of those casual questions somebody asks and then never mentions again because I am already picturing looking out the windows and seeing horses in the pasture.

That just feels like Outcrop to me.

Now Here’s the Part I Really Want You to Know

While I’ve been running around dealing with roofs, mouse traps, beds, windows, giant refrigerators, and whether the house should smell like a luxury hotel…

You guys have quietly been filling this place.

And if you’ve been watching Outcrop thinking, I want to bring my group there someday, I want to explain something because “someday” might actually make it harder.

My goal with our private retreat groups is that once you find your weekend, you have the first opportunity to keep that weekend the following year.

And then the next year.

And then the next.

I don’t want Outcrop to constantly be a revolving door where nobody ever feels connected to the place.

I want you to come back.

I want you to know which bedroom you like.

I want you to know where you like to sit.

I want your group to have traditions here.

I want you walking through the door eventually saying:

“We’re back.”

There are retreat houses that use this model and become incredibly difficult to get into because their groups keep returning year after year.

That is exactly what I hope eventually happens here.

And that’s wonderful for the groups who have their weekends.

But it also means the entire calendar may not reopen every year.

Right now, we only have a small handful of private retreat weekends remaining.

So if you’ve been quietly thinking, I want Outcrop to become our place, I really wouldn’t wait too long to reach out.

I have a feeling we’re going to see several of those remaining weekends disappear once people come through the open house and actually see the property.

And Then There Are the Fully Hosted Retreats

This number still blows my mind.

When we opened our fully hosted retreats, we had approximately 225 available spots.

We are now down to around 30.

Thirty.

Most of those remaining spaces happen to fall in November and December.

And yes, I understand why.

Those are busy months.

There are holidays.

There are parties.

There are family obligations.

But I’ve actually started thinking those retreats could become some of my favorites.

When my kids were younger, I used to love making their Christmas presents.

I would sew a quilt.

Make a scrapbook.

Build something.

And inevitably I’d be trying to work on some giant surprise while simultaneously hiding it every time one of my children walked into the room.

So what if you just disappeared to Outcrop for a few days and got it DONE?

Bring the Christmas quilt.

Bring the scrapbook.

Bring the gifts you’ve been saying you’re going to make for the last three years.

Bring the project you absolutely cannot spread all over your dining-room table at home because the person you’re making it for lives in your house.

Come out here.

Put your pajamas on.

Make your coffee.

Spread your project everywhere.

Nobody is going to accidentally walk in and ruin the surprise.

Honestly, the fact that November and December happen to be where most of our remaining hosted spaces are may turn out to be perfect.

I’m even thinking we might add some special crop days during those months for people who can’t get away for a full retreat but desperately need an entire uninterrupted day to finish Christmas projects.

I’m still thinking about exactly what that could look like.

But I kind of love it.

What I’m Realizing About Outcrop

There is so much happening here.

And somehow, at the same time, it feels like we’re barely getting started.

Beds are being assembled.

Furniture is arriving.

Windows are being replaced.

Decorations are slowly finding their places.

The craft spaces are coming together.

Coffee machines are ready.

Ice machines are coming.

We’re figuring out country living.

We’re learning this gigantic house.

We’re figuring out which contractors I should talk to and which contractors should only be allowed to speak to my husband.

And every day, Outcrop becomes a little more like the place I pictured when I first walked through the doors.

Actually, I think it might become better.

Because one thing I hadn’t anticipated was how much all of YOU would become part of this.

You’ve sent suggestions.

You’ve asked questions that have made me rethink things.

You’ve shared what you love and what you don’t love at other retreat houses.

You’ve booked weekends before seeing the finished house.

Some of you are already talking about coming back before you’ve even come the first time.

That is what I mean when I say a community is developing here.

I’m incredibly thankful for that.

I cannot wait to officially open these doors.

But I also cannot wait to see what Outcrop looks like a year from now.

Or three years from now.

I want to see the same groups pulling into the driveway year after year.

I want to hear somebody arguing because someone else took “her” crafting seat.

I want people to have favorite bedrooms.

I want projects spread across the tables.

I want women sitting outside with coffee.

I want laughter coming from the kitchen.

I want traditions.

And yes, I very much want to look out the window and see horses wandering around the pasture.

The more time I spend here working on this place, the more in love with it I become.

And if you’ve been following along thinking, I want to experience this place when it opens, reach out.

Especially if you’re thinking about a private weekend, because once those groups start establishing their yearly dates, there simply won’t be very many weekends that come back onto the calendar.

And if a whole private retreat isn’t your thing, take a look at those November and December hosted retreats.

You might just need a few days away, a giant craft table, some good coffee, a group of women around you, and permission to finally finish all those Christmas projects.

And now, because you guys really are helping me build this place, I need your opinions.

Would you rather have cubes in the bedrooms instead of traditional luggage racks?

Would you love a very light, luxury-hotel scent—or should Outcrop stay fragrance-free?

And maybe most importantly…

Who else would absolutely disappear to Outcrop for a few days in November or December just to make Christmas gifts without their family finding them?

Because somehow, between the contractors, the mice, the refrigerator mistakes, the beds, the coffee, and all of you…

I think I’m falling completely in love with this house.