Fixer Upper Quotes

All you have to do is take a man at face value. Don't go into it thinking you can change them. Men aren't fixer-uppers, not like a house or a car. You buy them as is.

Another [change] affects Chip and Joanna Gaines. This couple, who had reached unfathomable heights of popularity with their ‘Fixer Upper’ TV program in the 21st century, are instead homeless and living in a large cardboard box behind the Waco, Texas, bus station.” “That’s harsh,” said Eddie. “What did they do to deserve that?” “Nothing. It’s just one of those undesirable consequences that we could not avoid. It was either that or lose Australia.

I was an empty shell. Like a vacant house―condemned―for months I'd been utterly uninhabitable. Now I was a little improved. The front room was in better repair. But that was all―just the one small piece. He deserved better than that―better than a one-room, falling-down fixer-upper. No amount of investment on his part could put me back in working order.

You need to live in a dome initially, but over time you could terraform Mars to look like Earth and eventually walk around outside without anything on... So it's a fixer-upper of a planet.

I'm very harsh on real estate agents. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because of how the call every small house 'charming' and every run-down house a 'great fixer-upper'. Just once, I'd like them to show me a house and declare, 'This one's a piece of crap'.

Wait," I say. "Aren't soulmates supposed to be perfect? What if you find yours and shes not a virgin, not even a girl? What if he's a fixer upper? What if he has an STD?

Now was a clusterfuck, the fuckiest clusterfuck in the history of clusterfuckery.

Never agree to marry a man because he has potential. Men are not houses, they do not make good fixer-uppers.

How are you finding vampiredom?” “If it were a house,” I answered after some serious consideration, “I’d call it a fixer-upper.

Chocolate Cherry Fixer-Uppers

a fixer upper after attempting to make a home out of you i was able to find a home within myself a fixer upper had to repair the floors repaint the walls change the locks make sure you did not have a spare key to get in

Put it on HGTV—I think Fixer Upper is on.” “How many times can you watch Joanna Gaines say ‘French doors here’ and ‘Put a beam on it’ before it gets old?” Before I can answer Lucas with How dare you insult Jo, my phone rings.

What are your success metrics then?" I frowned at Tola, and she shrugged. "I dunno ... being comfortable in your skin, having loads of adventures, living with purpose, being happy, having good people in your life, taking risks?

Gannon came from loud, passionate Italian stock that wasn’t afraid to smash a plate to make a statement. Paige, on the other hand, systematically choked down any temper and, with frosty efficiency, made him dance like a fucking puppet.

It was so wrong to encourage Jacob. Pure selfishness. It didn't matter that I'd tried to make my position clear. If he felt any hope at all that this could turn into something other than friendship, then I hadn't been clear enough. How could I explain so that he would understand? I was an empty shell. Like a vacant house—condemned—for months I'd been utterly uninhabitable. Now I was a little improved. The front room was in better repair. But that was all—just the one small piece. He deserved better than that—better than a one-room, falling-down fixer-upper. No amount of investment on his part could put me back in working order.

Never agree to marry a man because he has potential. Men are not like houses; they do not make good fixer-uppers.

In you, Paige. I’m interested in you.

For the love of God, woman, please put on a bra,” Gannon begged. “If I know you’re braless under there all day, they’re going to have to pixelate my crotch in post-production

The woman got shit done, and she was not one to abandon a project (say, her fixer-upper husband, for instance), even if she decided she didn’t like it.

If your body is a temple, you can pile up too much deferred maintenance. If your body is a temple, mine was a real fixer-upper.

Princess, when I’m undressing you, you’ll know it.

The truth is, you can’t build a skyscraper-sized vision on fixer-upper faith, and you won’t experience mansion-sized miracles with porta-potty principles.

Find a man who buys the half-dilapidated fixer-upper and not the guy who buys the brand new model. The guy who can see potential and is willing to roll up his sleeves and get to work and make it the best it can possible be, who will love discovering all the hidden gems hidden inside, all the history, all the layers, that's the kind of man you want to settle down with; not the guy who only sees the pretty, the perfect. Because one day, that pretty and perfect will need work. And he won't want to do that. He will just move on to the newer and prettier.

Coats of paint don't make this house a home But with every room we paint, we are changing it to our own. Piece by piece, wall by wall, we build A place of peace for us all until The house is a picture of the love we feel.

Maybe that was what marriage meant, except that in theirs it had been a one-way street. He couldn't think of a single behavior of Becka's that he had altered in the slightest. But perhaps that was because there was so little he'd wanted to change, whereas she'd evidently viewed him as a fixer-upper from the start, structurally sound, the sort of property you wouldn't mind owning after you'd completed all the necessary renovations. First, though, you'd have to gut it, which was pretty much how Raymer felt by the end. As if the overhaul of his person was coming in over budget, and the person footing the bills was having serious second thoughts.

Can you tell me fice wonderful things you're looking forward to today?" "I couldn't give you one" I sighed, defeated "I couldn't give you half of one" "That's what I thought. Make your excuses; ill see you at St. Pancras at eleven." He went to hang up, and I stopped him, suddenly desperate "Dylan!" "Yeah?" I hesitated, unsure what I wanted to say. "Why?" "Because you're not happy. And it's very important that you be happy.

Once a month, rain or shine, I bought a delightful meal, drank something delicious, and read my book at a restaurant in London, one hundred percent alone, whether I was seeing someone or not. It was the one time I didn't have to pretend to be anyone else, didn't have to do anything for anyone. Didn't have to go on a date with someone, fizzing with hope, only to find they were third-five and hadn't dealt with their childhood traumas, didn't know how to ask a question and listen to the answer, and still weren't wearing matching socks.

Jesus, Hope—are you just richer than God?” Jack asked. “I have a couple bucks and nothing to do but buy and sell things. So, I’m going to sell the church.” She sipped her drink. Puffed on her cigarette. “But, Hope—you said no one wants it,” Jack pointed out. “Well, none of those religions want it. I’m going to sell it on eBay.” It was silent for a second, then Jack, Dan and Preacher burst into laughter. “Oh, go ahead and laugh,” she said. “You’ll see. Someone’s going to want a church. That’s a good church. Little roughed up at the moment, but it can be considered a fixer-upper.” Jack leaned on the bar. “Let me guess—you have some old pictures of that church, right? When it was beautiful, right? And you’re going to float out those pictures and snag some poor rube, like you did Mel.” “Mel hasn’t complained in years,” Hope said, puffing. “Mel?

When the routines and circumstances of your life are set up so that your lifestyle is a good fit for your natural preferences, it can give you a feeling of being in equilibrium. This will help prevent you from getting overwhelmed by anxiety on a regular basis. And by arranging your life to suit your temperament, you’ll have the time to process and calm down from life events that make you feel anxious. Some areas in which you can set up your life to fit your temperament are: --Have the right level of busyness in your life. For example, have enough after-work or weekend activities to keep you feeling calmly stimulated but not overstimulated and scattered. Note that being understimulated (for example, having too few enjoyable activities to look forward to) can be as much of a problem as being overstimulated. --Pick the physical activity level that’s right for you. Fine-tuning your physical activity level could be as simple as getting up from your desk and taking a walk periodically to keep yourself feeling calm and alert. Lifting things (such as carrying shopping bags up stairs) can also increase feelings of alertness and energy. Having pleasurable activities to look forward to and enough physical activity will help protect you against depression. --Have the right level of social contact in your life, and have routines that put this on autopilot. For example, a routine of having drinks after work on a Friday with friends, or attending a weekly class with your sister. Achieving the right level of social contact might also include putting mechanisms in place to avoid too much social interruption, like having office hours rather than an open-door policy. --Keep a balance of change and routine in your life. For example, alternate going somewhere new for your vacation vs. returning to somewhere you know you like. What the right balance of change and routine is for you will depend on your natural temperament and how much change vs. stability feels good to you. --Allow yourself the right amount of mental space to work up to doing something—enough time that you can do some mulling over the prospect of getting started but not so much time that it starts to feel like avoidance of getting started. --If coping with change sucks up a lot of energy for you, be patient with yourself, especially if you’re feeling stirred up by change or a disruption to your routines or plans. As mentioned in Chapter 2, keep some habits and relationships consistent when you’re exploring change in other areas. --Have self-knowledge of what types of stress you find most difficult to process. Don’t voluntarily expose yourself to those types without considering alternatives. For example, if you want a new house and you know you get stressed out by making lots of decisions, then you might choose to buy a house that’s already built, rather than building your own home. If you know making home-improvement decisions is anxiety provoking for you, you might choose to move to a house that’s new or recently renovated, rather than doing any major work on your current home or buying a fixer-upper. There’s always a balance with avoidance coping, where some avoidance of the types of stress that you find most taxing can be very helpful.

In real estate, money can be made both in premium beachfront property and in fixer-upper homes in middle-income neighborhoods. The skills and sensibilities of the people profiting in these distinct areas differ markedly. The people who tend to succeed seem able to match their strengths to the requirements of the opportunities they pursue.

Now, first of all this boy lived in a mansion – at least compared to our one-room shack in the swamp. Peter’s house wasn’t like one of those historic houses that all look alike. Naw, the Grants’ house was a mansion fixer-upper. White Lions on black-marble columns greeted you at the front. Then there was a veranda with black-and-white tiles. It had three bedrooms, a guest room and helpers’ quarters. Kitchen counters went on for ever, and there was a huge gas range and a fridge with ice comin’ out the side, clink-clink into your glass. Man. Two carved bannisters led upstairs, but one staircase was blocked off. That was to accommodate a Hammond B3 church organ. Yes, a real, live church organ that when Peter held down the keys and stepped on the pedals his whole family jumped up and praised the Lord or cursed the Devil.

from nine until three o’clock. I’d done it the past four years in a row and it was always fun. The kids were attentive and asked lots of great questions, and it always felt especially good to have some of the girls sign up for a summer job on my crew. I just wished I were feeling a little more energetic. I’d

He, on the other hand, could think of multiple reasons. He was staring down thirty—from the wrong side of the decade. Although he still had all his working parts, he was banged up something fierce. His knees were good; his trigger finger steady. In short, he was a fixer-upper project and she was no carpenter.

shoulder-length blond hair and piercing blue eyes. She introduced her partner,

fixer-upper of her own. She used to think she’d wait until she met Mr. Right, and they’d choose a house together, but she’d turned twenty-seven at the end of March and no Till Death Do Us Part was in sight, so she might as well skip that step and move on. She’d considered Cal’s house, but it came with too much property. A huge yard meant lots of work. Just fixing the poor house would be work enough. Ansel would be part of the crew soon, and then the remodeling would go faster. Jazzi smiled. She was always more inspired when their hottie contractor was on the job. Eye candy was nothing to sneeze at. But for now, she pushed all thoughts of remodeling and trunks out of her mind and went to stretch on

We’ll sacrifice most anything for speed and convenience. When researchers noticed that cereal sales were going down, they did a study to figure out why. It turns out millennials don’t eat as much cereal because it’s too much trouble to wash the bowl. They grab protein bars or yogurt cups and scarf them on the way to work. Cooking shows are more popular than ever—you can find Bobby Flay putting meat on a fire twenty-four hours a day—but it seems like people are watching instead of cooking, in the same way people watch Fixer Upper a lot more than they fix anything up. The proof is on the shelves. The stuff you used to find in the 7-Eleven is now in the grocery store: Lunchables, protein packs, quickie meals packed in plastic clamshells. Life, to go.

technical trouble?

me

Focus on loving yourself and find someone who doesn’t need changing. No more fixer-uppers!

Bibbidi bobbidi boo, bitches

Your magic vagina! Seriously, though, you can't think this is complete coincidence?

It means you date men who aren’t fully formed grown-ups yet, put all your energy into making their lives better, and then you get exhausted and tap out before you get any of the rewards of your labor.

Tola nodded. “Eric’s right, babe. You know what your problem is? You’re not dating men, you’re dating projects.

I closed my eyes. “Gratitude is an excellent emotion. But it’s not a shield that holds off bullshit indefinitely.” I sounded like an agony aunt column in a teen magazine, telling women not to settle for less. “You just need to teach him.

being a nag. The worst thing a woman could be, after a spinster, of course.

Tola was a one-woman cheer squad. She was also sensitive to caffeine and I could tell it had clearly been a “three Red Bulls” sort of day.

Why do you want to be the boss, Marina? I’m not sure it’s suited to your temperament, darling. Running a team would stress you out. Some people are lions, and some people are . . . beavers.

And the hiking? Why did everyone on dating sites love hiking? I’d never met anyone in real life who liked it.

No, said a little voice in the back of her head, you can’t. She knew that voice quite well. She didn’t like it much, mostly because it told her the truth, a commodity whose supply had a tendency to exceed demand. For a genuine free spirit, the very best the truth can ever be is a starting point, a fixer-upper in need of a great deal of tender loving imagination. At its worst – like now, for example – it’s a brick wall across the highway, with barbed wire, searchlights and dogs. No, you can’t.

That’s my girl,

Nerds will inherit the earth one day, Dylan, we’re the ones quietly doing all the research. Don’t forget it.

So here they were, in the big living room of the renovated log cabin that Sofia, Martina, and Benny shared. Bianca, as the one sister who didn’t live there and who, therefore, had to be out in her car anyway, had brought a box of bear claws and croissants from the French Corner Bakery.

Chris tried not to think about Alexis—or about women in general—over the next few days. Clearly, he needed something to fill the empty time now that he’d sold his company and didn’t have a job to go to. Of course, there would eventually be a new business enterprise, a new app, a new … something. But for now, he needed a project.

Clearly something had happened, though, because Alexis still wasn’t back. Margaret said Alexis had been “detained” in the Bay Area by “unforeseen circumstances.” Martina and Noah exchanged looks when she said it, but they let it go without comment.

She’d expected Noah to be as giddy as she was over the idea of working on Cooper House. But she should have realized Noah didn’t get giddy. He was a highly practical man who’d been working in the Cambria area for decades, had built and repaired the houses of the rich, and was impressed by very little.

Thank you, Patrick.” She rushed into the room, her messenger bag over her shoulder, and kissed his cheek. “I can do this. I just hope I don’t throw up.” “If you do, try to do it somewhere discreet,” he offered. “Maybe a big houseplant.

Her new address. She wasn’t at the condo anymore, and the address Margaret gave him wasn’t her parents’ place, either. Had she already found a place of her own, in this real estate market?

With the Cooper House job in limbo, Martina decided to focus on other things. She’d called Noah to tell him they were on hold until they heard from Chris. Now, there was nothing to do but turn her attention toward her other clients, Sofia’s wedding, and her dream of buying a home of her own.

What am I supposed to wear? My diamond tiara is being cleaned.” Benny fretted in her room as she got ready for the dinner. She’d called Martina in to help her choose an outfit, but Martina’s style was so different from Benny’s it hardly seemed like she was the woman for the job.

Why not? You’re not seeing anyone. He’s not seeing anyone.” To Martina, it seemed like the perfect solution to Chris’s obvious sadness. Not to mention the fact that Benny hadn’t had a date in a while.

For one thing, she wondered why the man was letting his girlfriend make all of the decisions about redesigning his house. Was Alexis more than a girlfriend? Surely they had to be serious if he was giving her this kind of influence.

. “Ms. Sinclair is looking for a designer for Cooper House, and she would like to meet with you as soon as possible. You are familiar with Cooper House?” The woman’s voice was crisp and businesslike.

Christopher Mills didn’t want to fight with his girlfriend. In fact, he would have preferred to have his spleen pulled out through his ear. And yet, it seemed like fighting with Alexis took up most of his time since they’d moved to Cambria.

One of them, yeah.” He beamed with pride as he looked at it. “I keep it here in Cambria for when I’m visiting, but Alexis wouldn’t ride in it, so I had to sneak in time with it whenever I could. I guess that’s not an issue anymore.” He opened the passenger side door for her—it made a grinding screech—and she got in.

Henry Stern is now fading from political lore, but for a twenty-five-year period, he was a New York City legend. Brought up in an immigrant household in Inwood at the upper tip of Manhattan, he shot his way through City College (then considered the Harvard for poor, white Jews from New York City), then Harvard Law School (some say he’s the youngest graduate ever), and then threw himself into New York City politics, working for former Miss America Bess Myerson, who had become a prominent local politician.

Usually the only thing that makes a woman look the way you look is a penis that turns into an asshole.

Shut up, princess.

I think I better head to bed. Who won?" I squinted at the board. It was blurry, the little pieces swimming around it like they were chasing one another. I hiccupped again. "Me?" "Actually, you owe me two thousand dollars and a house on Tennessee Avenue." Katie laughed, starting to remove the Scottie dog, top hat, and thimble from the board. I yawned, my eyes flickering shut as I took spontaneous one-second naps between blinks. Somewhere in the back of my head, I realized I was being a mess, not at all the brilliant, responsible fiancé Chase wanted me to be. Screw him. I owed him nothing. As long as his family was having fun. "I hope you like fixer-uppers and accept coupons, Katie, because I'm broke as all hell," I snorted out. "That's all right. It's just a game." Katie folded the board and tucked it back into the box as she hummed to herself. She was so agreeable and docile. The opposite of her older brother. Almost like he'd hogged every drop of ferociousness in their DNA pool before he was born. "Yeah, well, I'm flat-out broke in real life too." I snickered. Time to go to bed, Miss Hot Mess Express. I stood up on wobbly feet. My knees felt like jelly, and there was a strange pressure behind my eyes. Knowing I'd be coming face-to-face with Chase made me break out in hives. I'd tried to postpone our reunion as much as I could, hoping --praying, really--he'd fall asleep before I got back to the room. "Not for long." Lori laughed. I laughed too. Then paused. Then frowned. "Wait, how do you mean?" "Well"--Lori offered me a one-shouldered shrug, picking nonexistent lint from her dress pants as Katie put the Monopoly box away--"you're going to marry Chase, honey. And Chase is ... well endowed." Katie choked on her soda, while I used every ounce of my self-control in order to not break into giggles. "Oh, Lori, you have no idea,

Devin Gangadyal - Safety Coordinator Devin Gangadyal could easily be the friendliest person you'll ever meet. He wants to see everyone succeed and looks for ways to support and inspire others. Devin works as a safety coordinator for Reidy Contracting Group in New York City. In his spare time you might find Devin remodeling his fixer-upper, hanging out with family and friends and looking for any chance he can to help others learn the building skills that he has been blessed to acquire.

But I loved that there were ghosts. I loved the feeling of the old walls and how the floors slanted to the left, the cracks on the Moorish arches like tiny lightning bolts, the overgrown jasmine and the original windows, which we were told we would need to replace. (We never did.) It was a fixer-upper we couldn’t afford to fix. Like us.

I beg of you, go to therapy. And stop helping Matthew. He's secretly a little weasel." "I thought he was beige." "You don't hear the stuff he says around the guys. Beige is a front for evil. Always.

My current plan relies on proximity." "And this plan is ..." "To hang out with him until he caves and sleeps with me again. And then keep sleeping with him until he falls in love with me.

Because you aren't great at ... feelings." I frowned. "That's not true." "Oh, don't get me wrong, you're excellent at other people's, knowing what makes them tick, how they think, why they're hurting. But I think you're not being honest with yourself or with us.

Five minutes. It was all she’d give herself to feel this horrible, broken ache in her chest. And then it was back to business.

The walls, once white, wore the yellowed cast of its storied past as a smoker’s paradise.

We worked like dogs, we ate like hogs, and we slept like logs.

You’re very brave,” Paige told her. “Do you ever get scared?” Malia nodded, her brown eyes wide. “I don’t like it when my mom cries. It makes me feel bad. An’ I don’t like the dark very much, so I sleep with a Ninja Turtle nightlight.

I’ve thought about taking you here a thousand times,” he murmured against her mouth.

You propose to me by showing me footage of another woman kissing you, and then you call me a dirty liar and threaten to haunt me if I say no.” “Well, if you’re gonna overlook all the good stuff, then yeah.

Her show cycles through PAs faster than John Mayer cycles through girlfriends.

Honestly? I have no idea,’ I laugh. ‘It seems to involve lots of geometric shapes made up of tiny dots of paint. It’s really not my kind of thing, but it makes him happy, and he’ll be even happier if he actually sells one at this exhibition. Now, are you cooking tonight or am I?’ ‘How is the new flat?’ Thomas’s mother asks me. It’s the first night of the exhibition and I’m carefully pouring prosecco into the glasses she’s borrowed from one of the local supermarkets.