Some adventures happen on mountain trails or river rapids. This one started with a house.

On paper, it was simple: buy a home big enough for our blended family, update it, and settle in. In reality? Sticker shock, tight timelines, and the question that changes everything: do we trust ourselves enough to do this on our own?

I’ve spent the last 20 years as an IT Director. My days are filled with networks, not nail guns. But before that? I built guitars, crafted furniture, and framed basements. The skills were there—buried maybe, but not gone. The challenge was deciding if I could dust them off, lead us through a full main-floor renovation, and finish what we started.

This series is about more than a renovation. It’s about choosing to defy convention instead of outsourcing, betting on ourselves when it would’ve been easier not to, and discovering what happens when you take down walls—literally and metaphorically.

Welcome to our story: Defying Convention, One Wall at a Time.

Part 1: The Search

Every adventure starts with a map—ours just happened to be the MLS®.

The goal sounded simple enough: find a humble, well-kept home. Enough space for our blended crew now, but realistic for a future where it’s just the two of us. Easy, right?

Except between the two of us, we’ve got seven boys. Four live at home, one comes back summers and holidays. That meant we needed six bedrooms. Not exactly the “humble starter” most listings promised.

At first, we chased the idea of finishing a basement—add a few walls, a bathroom, some doors, and we’d be set. But reality bit back: low inventory in the neighborhoods we liked, high demand, and nothing that fit the plan.

Then one day, a place popped up. The basement was already dialed in: three bedrooms, a full bath, storage, and a family room. Done. No reno budget needed down there. But the main floor? Tight kitchen, no space for family meals, walls everywhere. Functional, but not the open, welcoming space we dreamed of.

So the plan flipped. Instead of sinking $60,000 into a basement renovation we’d rarely use, we’d invest that money where we’d actually live—on the main floor. Walls would come down, beams would go up, and we’d shape the heart of the home into something that worked for both daily life and those loud, beautiful family dinners.

Of course, that’s when we got the quote. $132,000. Plus a 20% management fee. Sticker shock doesn’t even cover it.

Which left us with a choice: walk away from the house, or commit to it and find another way.

Here’s the thing—my life has always been about learning by doing. I’ve built guitars, crafted furniture, framed basements, tiled bathrooms, even stripped asbestos (not recommended for fun). I own tools, I know how to use them, and for the things I can’t do, I’ve got friends who can.

So when it came down to it, the decision was clear: we’d take it on ourselves. Against the grain. Against the “you should hire a contractor” mindset. Against convention.

This is where the story begins. The house. The plan. The gut-check decision to roll up our sleeves and do it anyway.

More to come.