In 1988, I was living in Paris, France with my brother, Sam. Sam was a fashion photographer. His job was to take pictures of lots of very pretty girls – and get paid to do it! Needless to say, I L-O-V-E-D Paris!
I got a call from my dad. My grandmother was very sick. He needed me to fly home immediately. Soon after I arrived, my grandmother passed away. Part of settling her estate was getting her house, which was built in 1930, fixed up and sold. This was my first attempt at a major rehab.
At first, I thought: No problem. I’m mechanical and handy with tools. I quickly realized that I didn’t know what I was doing and was in way over my head. Each repair that I did took much longer and cost a lot more than estimated. My frustration level shot through the ceiling. All the while, my dad kept calling and asking…






