My parents, like many parents here in the Cuban diaspora, worked and worked and worked from when they first arrived to one day be able to buy their own home.  Back then, in the early seventies, homes in Miami were generally small and had few, if any, modifications. Most were two or three bedroom, one bathroom quaint little boxes and not very colorful. That is, you could basically drive down any neighborhood in Miami and all the homes were lined up perfectly with meticulous lawns and all of them, and I mean pretty much all of them, were painted white.

The first thing my family did when we bought our first home here was to paint the exterior. There was no way mom was going to live in a drab, white shoebox of a house.  Then we painted the interior, ripped up the old green carpet and polished the wood floors and piso de granito.

Ours was a modest two/one with a small one car garage and a very plain backyard. This, of course, wouldn't do, so my mom and dad did what every other self-respecting Cuban exile would do: una adicion. An addition.

Of course, it took them a few years to save enough money and decide what to do to their home, but nonetheless they managed it.  Thus came the addition(s) and the "Ya que" syndrome.

First, Mom wanted a laundry room. It was incorporated into the plan but, ya que we were building a laundry room, why not build a covered terrace along side it? And no self-respecting Cuban would have a covered terrace without an outside sink and counters.

Then, we needed another bedroom as me and sis sharing just wasn't working out. Thus went the garage. It was now slated to be a bedroom but, ya que we were enclosing the garage, why not add a second bathroom in there? And a large closet?

Mom didn't like that our front porch was basically concrete columns with screens installed in the opening so it was decided that the screens would be removed and windows and a new entrance door would be installed. Of course, ya que we were enclosing the screened porch and losing same, why not add another open terrace on the front along side the new "foyer". Thus, the front porch terrace was born.

Naturally, the whole renovation/addition thing was undertaken to make our home better. More comfortable, more utilitarian. More appealing.

Now we could do laundry comfortably. My sister and I wouldn't fight over which one was snoring louder or who was taking way too long in the bathroom.  On nice days we could sit down to dinner outside in our backyard covered terrace. And on any given evening, we could sit out on the front porch and enjoy the breeze or chat with neighbors.

But perhaps most important though, the addition and renovations and improvements and "ya que's" made our home more welcoming to family and friends.

Almost six years ago, when I made my home here on the net, Babalu Blog was very much like my parent's first home. It was basically plain and simple except, of course, for those that adorned it by coming by to hang out. And through the years we have painted here and there, changed a fixture or two here on this blog, and, hopefully, it has been comfortable and made everyone in the Babalu family feel at home.

But, as with everything Cuban, the ya que syndrome got to us. We had been needing a new laundry room here, a new platform to help us blog a lot easier and we'd decided to get rid of the old clunker washer/dryer of Movable Type and replaced it with a nice, energy efficient front loader Word Press washer dryer but then, the inevitable.

Val: "Oye, ya que we're changing platforms, why dont we do some layout changes?"

Henry: "Sure."

Val: "Y ya que we're doing some layout changes, why don't we try adding this."

Henry: "Esta bien."

Val: "Y ya que we're adding this, we might as well go ahead and add that."

Henry: "Fine."

Thus, you are now reading this in what Henry refers to as Babalu v2.0, but which I like to think of as Casa Babalu.  Our new and improved and recently renovated home on this here internet.

And - as with every home renovation - while we have yet to work out all the kinks, we do hope you all feel more comfortable here as all the work that's taken place fixing this here blog up has been for you, the Babalu family.

Sure, we didnt have a huge pile of sand out front or tons of 2x4's stacked up out back. And no, we didnt have a couple of cigar chewing Cuban contractors around yelling "Oye, traeme otro saco de morah mi y dos planchas de chirok." Nor did we have hammer wielding carpenters with exposed buttcracks singing along to El Conjunto Universal blaring through the radio.

But we did have Henry Gomez bustin' his hump behind the scenes. He carried all the drywall, mixed all the cement, built all the forms, hammered all the nails and, finally, applied the last coat of paint. He did it all and I truly think we can't thank him enough.

Te la comistes, Henry. Eres un bravo and I love you, my brother.

Oh and that first home my parents put all that hard work into? It's still- decades later - their home today, and it's still just a welcoming and just as comfortable.

I hope the same rings true for Casa Babalu.