Sometimes you have to see something a number of times before your brain kicks in. This is the premise of advertising; they believe that you get the impact of the ad on about the 12th or 13th viewing. Tonight I saw a blip from a news story about third world and developing nation having increasing energy demands that may impact the availability and price of energy for all nations. The item focused on someone saying how we needed to make some changes in our usage.
The synapses finally fired. I recall discussions of the total penetration of cellular phones in Scandinavian countries being driven by the problems of constructing traditional infrastructure, and how they ultimately were able to skip the wired step and go right to wireless in reaching difficult locations.
Then I recall that the island of Madagascar is nearly denuded of its once-thick forests because the ever-increasing population keeps chopping them down for firewood, for simple heat and cooking.
Then I think of China, a number of other countries, and the US itself constructing or planning new energy-generation facilities using traditional fuels. Xcel Energy just fired up a new plant that uses natural gas for fuel; this replaced an old coal-fired plant whose 570-foot chimney was imploded the other day. The new gas-fired plant went into construction before natural gas prices doubled and more.
The technology exists to produce energy from so many other sources: solar, which has been badly handled instead of avidly pushed; wind, which is huge in many countries and is blocked by such concerns as the blades on the turbines kill birds; geothermal; tidal, such as with the Bay of Fundy with its 40-foot tide swings; and hydroelectric, which works incredibly well with small impoundments as well as with the misguided dammings in the desert. Not to say nuclear, which is on the upsurge for traditional reactors as well as the new pebble reactors.
Where are the developed nations, where are the environmental NGOs, where is the US with its vaunted inventive and innovative powers - about all we have left as a leadership position now that we've suffered the Bush Presidency - in taking these technologies to the rest of the world, helping them to avoid our mistakes, avoid the expense of infrastructure that's fated to be obsolete before it's built out, avoid the unnecessary expenditure of limited capital? If China has to spend a, well, shit-ton (that's technical language for a whole bunch) of money on new energy generation, why aren't they skipping the bad tech step and grabbing onto the new?
When I think that nothing's happening on the energy front, I remember all the wind turbines I saw in the Netherlands as we flew into Schiphol Airport. Hundreds! Now, they may simply be powering the pumps that keep the sea at bay, and with global warming they may need twice as many and more before they light a single new bulb on dry land, but they weren't any more obtrusive on the landscape than warehouses or cell towers and they gave me hope.
Then, of course, if we can save the developing world some grief and some money by helping them skip forward to the new alternative energies, why can't we make that happen right at home?
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Friday, June 27, 2008
When is nothing something?
Nothing happened on our house project today. Or yesterday, or Wednesday. Today it took an act of the concrete people, who didn't deliver due to the prediction of rain, to make nothing happen. Is it nothing when it requires a decision or an act? Where's Sartre when you need him? It finally rained this evening. It rained like a son of a bitch for about ten minutes. I was driving home during the rain, and I drove through rain for about two miles: a few drops, then a shower, then a heavy rain, then such a downpour that several drivers pulled over because they couldn't see, then 150 yards later, down to nothing. Remarkable.
Bad philosophy joke. "To do is to be." - Descartes. "To be is to do." - Sartre. "Do be do be do." - Sinatra. Another: "Nietzsche is pietzsche."
Wendy is taking faith that most of the settling has taken place, She is putting items back into the dining room hutch, which displays them in an enclosed lighted cabinet. We managed to break one piece while packing them for safety; the reloading is going better.
The nothing of the house project allows me to reflect on the passing of George Carlin, and on how many disparate sources note his passing and how he spoke to their field of interest. Sports Illustrated made mention of his marvelous take on football vs. baseball. I had forgotten the part they mentioned, but I remember "Football is played in a Stadium. Baseball is played in a park. "
And something on the order of " in football, they have blitzes. The offense drives through the opponent's territory, throwing bombs...in baseball, they're trying to get home safe." Carlin was a master at emphasizing these with nuances of voice: you can hear the aggression in his descriptions of football and the instant change to gentle innocence when he speaks of baseball.
I remember his reflection about the glass: "some people say the glass is half-empty. Some people say the glass is half-full. I say the glass is TOO BIG." He loved language and ripped on its misuse, and noted some interesting contradictions: all he had to say was 'jumbo shrimp" and you knew that something didn't quite fit.
And he understood dogs and cats. I don't have his exact words, but: A dog will walk into a table, and cry out to show pain and come to be petted and pitied. A cat will walk into the same table, and stalk off as if to say, "I meant to do that," then go behind the couch and say to itself, "oh, MEOW."
I remember him from 60's shows, portraying Al Pouch, the Hippy-Dippy Mailman, or Al Sleet, the Hippy-Dippy Weatherman; from the latter came his famous forecast of "Tonight, dark. Dark through the night, followed by increasing light toward morning." We saw him in Milwaukee, in his first visit to that city after his arrest for the fabled seven words. Of course, he had to explain them and defend himself. You only need to remember that "a cocksucker isn't a bad man, it's a nice lady."
I got a little bit exasperated with the near-canonization of Tim Russert of NBC, especially by that network but all through the media. I believe that the loss of George Carlin has a broader cultural impact, and that more people will remember him fondly without having to be sold on it.
Bad philosophy joke. "To do is to be." - Descartes. "To be is to do." - Sartre. "Do be do be do." - Sinatra. Another: "Nietzsche is pietzsche."
Wendy is taking faith that most of the settling has taken place, She is putting items back into the dining room hutch, which displays them in an enclosed lighted cabinet. We managed to break one piece while packing them for safety; the reloading is going better.
The nothing of the house project allows me to reflect on the passing of George Carlin, and on how many disparate sources note his passing and how he spoke to their field of interest. Sports Illustrated made mention of his marvelous take on football vs. baseball. I had forgotten the part they mentioned, but I remember "Football is played in a Stadium. Baseball is played in a park. "
And something on the order of " in football, they have blitzes. The offense drives through the opponent's territory, throwing bombs...in baseball, they're trying to get home safe." Carlin was a master at emphasizing these with nuances of voice: you can hear the aggression in his descriptions of football and the instant change to gentle innocence when he speaks of baseball.
I remember his reflection about the glass: "some people say the glass is half-empty. Some people say the glass is half-full. I say the glass is TOO BIG." He loved language and ripped on its misuse, and noted some interesting contradictions: all he had to say was 'jumbo shrimp" and you knew that something didn't quite fit.
And he understood dogs and cats. I don't have his exact words, but: A dog will walk into a table, and cry out to show pain and come to be petted and pitied. A cat will walk into the same table, and stalk off as if to say, "I meant to do that," then go behind the couch and say to itself, "oh, MEOW."
I remember him from 60's shows, portraying Al Pouch, the Hippy-Dippy Mailman, or Al Sleet, the Hippy-Dippy Weatherman; from the latter came his famous forecast of "Tonight, dark. Dark through the night, followed by increasing light toward morning." We saw him in Milwaukee, in his first visit to that city after his arrest for the fabled seven words. Of course, he had to explain them and defend himself. You only need to remember that "a cocksucker isn't a bad man, it's a nice lady."
I got a little bit exasperated with the near-canonization of Tim Russert of NBC, especially by that network but all through the media. I believe that the loss of George Carlin has a broader cultural impact, and that more people will remember him fondly without having to be sold on it.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Up In The Air, part 8
All right, there wasn't a seven. But the last entry was actually #7, under an assumed name.
This one will be short, if I stick to the topic. The plumber has done his below-concrete work: setting the floor drain, roughing in the drain connections for a future bathroom and for our laundry area, rerouting the sewerage pipes. The contractor has one more footing to set, and he says the floor will be poured on Friday (rain and other wetness issues permitting). Next week will be at best a four-day work week, with July 4th coming on Friday, but a four-day work week would be a record; nothing happened today, and our contractor has become enamored of moneymaking opportunities in the rebuilding of Iowa ("it hurts to see the devastation..." Hah!) so I'm not counting on much moving forward tomorrow or Thursday.
We have a wall clock with lovely chimes that Wendy is fond of. The chimes stopped a couple of months ago, and when we took the clock down to avoid its falling when the house went up, we took it to a repair shop. It came back today, and I'm waiting to re-learn how to ignore the bonging in the wee small hours. UW-Stout's clock tower has bells that chime the quarter-hours every day, but they don't begin until 7 a.m. and they quit after 9 p.m. I don't know how to make this clock do that. My father used to tell how he hated the cuckoo clock at my grandparents' cottage: it would sound once on the half-hour. He would wake in the night and hear one cuckoo, and, not knowing if it was 12:30, one a.m. or 1:30, or some other wee small half-hour, he would lay awake until he heard two or more cuckoos.
As the house settles on its new foundation, it's finding some new alignments. This results in a door here and there that needs to be planed at the top or bottom, a crack in the plaster above doorways or in corners, etc. I'm not sure we'll ever open a couple of casement windows or our pocket doors. Nothing big has fallen yet, no falls of concrete or new gaps to the outdoors. A couple of folks have said, "sure, now it's setting on a level square foundation and before, who knows?"
Tomorrow will be another journey to the laundromat, my third. This one won't be quite as fierce as the last one, when I did seven loads. But my wife always rips on me for having a healthy supply of underwear and socks, not to mention khaki pants, and that sufficient wardrobe may get us through to the completion of plumbing and the return of the appliances to the basement.
At worst, I may need another yellow polo shirt for work; I've been trying to put off the need for a new one, as the dye lots have changed considerably and the new shirts are about the color of the inside of a pumpkin.
This one will be short, if I stick to the topic. The plumber has done his below-concrete work: setting the floor drain, roughing in the drain connections for a future bathroom and for our laundry area, rerouting the sewerage pipes. The contractor has one more footing to set, and he says the floor will be poured on Friday (rain and other wetness issues permitting). Next week will be at best a four-day work week, with July 4th coming on Friday, but a four-day work week would be a record; nothing happened today, and our contractor has become enamored of moneymaking opportunities in the rebuilding of Iowa ("it hurts to see the devastation..." Hah!) so I'm not counting on much moving forward tomorrow or Thursday.
We have a wall clock with lovely chimes that Wendy is fond of. The chimes stopped a couple of months ago, and when we took the clock down to avoid its falling when the house went up, we took it to a repair shop. It came back today, and I'm waiting to re-learn how to ignore the bonging in the wee small hours. UW-Stout's clock tower has bells that chime the quarter-hours every day, but they don't begin until 7 a.m. and they quit after 9 p.m. I don't know how to make this clock do that. My father used to tell how he hated the cuckoo clock at my grandparents' cottage: it would sound once on the half-hour. He would wake in the night and hear one cuckoo, and, not knowing if it was 12:30, one a.m. or 1:30, or some other wee small half-hour, he would lay awake until he heard two or more cuckoos.
As the house settles on its new foundation, it's finding some new alignments. This results in a door here and there that needs to be planed at the top or bottom, a crack in the plaster above doorways or in corners, etc. I'm not sure we'll ever open a couple of casement windows or our pocket doors. Nothing big has fallen yet, no falls of concrete or new gaps to the outdoors. A couple of folks have said, "sure, now it's setting on a level square foundation and before, who knows?"
Tomorrow will be another journey to the laundromat, my third. This one won't be quite as fierce as the last one, when I did seven loads. But my wife always rips on me for having a healthy supply of underwear and socks, not to mention khaki pants, and that sufficient wardrobe may get us through to the completion of plumbing and the return of the appliances to the basement.
At worst, I may need another yellow polo shirt for work; I've been trying to put off the need for a new one, as the dye lots have changed considerably and the new shirts are about the color of the inside of a pumpkin.
Friday, June 20, 2008
As Long As We're Down Here...
The hits just keep on a-comin'. The financial hits. The basement floor hasn't been poured yet, so there's still time to bring in the plumber. We're getting new toilet piping, partly to repair an old problem with the way one toilet sat on the pipes and partly to reroute the pipes now that they're running through open space rather than along a wall. We're getting a new supply pipe, taking a different path from the meter to the water heater. And, oh yeah, a new water heater, since our current one seems to be about half-full of mineral in six or seven years. And new connections from the basement supply to every water-using fixture. A new floor drain, plus new drains and supplies for the laundry. And, since our new basement could be finished at a later date, it's a great time to rough in the hookups for a future toilet, sink and shower. It all makes sense, and it all costs money.
What it probably also means is another night in a motel, although the plumber says his goal is to get us one toilet and one sink by the end of his day digging up the pipes.
Then there's the heat, and the air conditioner. Almost all of our old sheet metal ducting came out, and from all appearances it should have. But this means all new sheet metal, and the heating guy wants to change cold air returns into heat vents and vice versa, and we haven't seen his bid yet, nor do we know how much of that was part of the original. It appears that our furnace and our central air unit will be all right to re-install, the second mercy shown by this project. The first mercy: we've had no weather below 48 degrees at night and only a few days over 80, so the absence of heat and A/C hasn't been a burden.
We hope to have concrete poured by next Friday, maybe sooner. After that, the plumber can get back in to mess with supply pipes, and the heat guy can start cutting metal, and the washer and dryer can get down into place, and they can block up the places where girders held the place up, and install the windows, and build the new stairway. I'm guessing that we have about three weeks to go.
Then they can come into the house and start patching cracks where the house settled slightly differently on the new walls. And finish rebuilding the porch. And get at the roof before the snow flies.
It appears that early retirement is not going to be an option.
What it probably also means is another night in a motel, although the plumber says his goal is to get us one toilet and one sink by the end of his day digging up the pipes.
Then there's the heat, and the air conditioner. Almost all of our old sheet metal ducting came out, and from all appearances it should have. But this means all new sheet metal, and the heating guy wants to change cold air returns into heat vents and vice versa, and we haven't seen his bid yet, nor do we know how much of that was part of the original. It appears that our furnace and our central air unit will be all right to re-install, the second mercy shown by this project. The first mercy: we've had no weather below 48 degrees at night and only a few days over 80, so the absence of heat and A/C hasn't been a burden.
We hope to have concrete poured by next Friday, maybe sooner. After that, the plumber can get back in to mess with supply pipes, and the heat guy can start cutting metal, and the washer and dryer can get down into place, and they can block up the places where girders held the place up, and install the windows, and build the new stairway. I'm guessing that we have about three weeks to go.
Then they can come into the house and start patching cracks where the house settled slightly differently on the new walls. And finish rebuilding the porch. And get at the roof before the snow flies.
It appears that early retirement is not going to be an option.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Not to Say I Told You So...
I heard on Public Radio today that other pro golfers average 0.2 strokes worse per round in events in which Tiger Woods plays. That counts as a debilitating effect - say, like Rocco Mediate, they end up in a tie instead of winning by one. Someone, possibly the same person with way too much time on their hands, computed that this effect has been worth about $5 million to Tiger in his career.
On the way to work today, I was cruising at somewhere between my old and new settings, and was passed by only three cars: two Minnesota and one Illinois, all three SUVs or crossovers.
And that's the way it is...
On the way to work today, I was cruising at somewhere between my old and new settings, and was passed by only three cars: two Minnesota and one Illinois, all three SUVs or crossovers.
And that's the way it is...
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Other Things Have Happened
As hard as it is to pay attention, the world continues to spin and other people have lives.
Well, except for my friend Ernie Tervi. Ernie passed away a few days ago after losing a battle with cancer. Ernie had the most innocent heart of anyone I knew, but managed to tell some marvelously cynical stories and jokes, and some wonderful shaggy dog stories with outrageous puns. You don't want me to try to reproduce them here. I hadn't seen him in many years, but will remember him fondly.
All right. One quick Ernie Tervi joke. What did the elephant say when the truck ran over his trunk? (Hold your nose to say)"Nice, real f***ing nice." (Sounds like "Dice, real f***ig dice").
There are no other quick Ernie Tervi jokes. Ask me sometime to tell about Peter Piper and the spinster sisters, or Toivo and Eino and the Bearcat Scanner. They take about a week each, but they're wonderfully wrong.
I had a scary little dark mole working near my right eyebrow, but it turns out to be a "sebaceous keratoma." Translation: an age spot. Crap! I'm scared enough about old age without scaring myself with age spots! I have a few others of this type of extrusion on my hands, but this one was in process, pushing up a little crown, and it had my attention. All's well. Nonetheless I encourage everyone to use sunscreen, wear hats to shade the whole face and neck, and pay attention to moles and other quirks of complexion, especially when they start changing or growing. Both of my parents had several run-ins with little skin cancers, and both had other cancer concerns which contributed to their decline in health; who knows the relationship?
In a previous blog site, I railed repeatedly about the general ineptitude of other drivers. I don't want to return to that, but a recent trend in driving has caught my attention. This one makes sense: I am sure that traffic in general has slowed down. I used to set my cruise at a reasonable amount over the speed limit, and be passed by many vehicles, especially from Minnesota and Illinois. Since gasoline passed about $3.90, things have slowed down. I have dropped two or three MPH off my regular speed, and I am now one of the fastest vehicles out there. Only a few FIBs (that's Illinois drivers in Badgerspeak) now sail by me, and even they are generally under 80. I am working on adding about five minutes to my commute time; this is fine with a 9:30 start but really bites when I need to be in Eau Claire by 6 a.m.
Yes, Ross, I follow some sports. The Celtics destroyed the Lakers last night to win their 17th NBA title. Kevin Garnett was incoherent with joy. It's amazing: the NBA has been in existence for 62 years; 31 of the championships have gone to the Celtics or Lakers. Whatever happened to the Syracuse Nationals or the Rochester Royals? The Golden State Warriors used to play in Philadelphia. The Royals moved to Cincinnati, then to Kansas City as the Kings (or, for at least one season, the Kansas City - Omaha Kings); they now play in Sacramento. Of course, the Lakers got that name when they played in Minneapolis. If I remember right, the Pistons of Detroit used to play in Fort Wayne. The Atlanta Hawks were the St. Louis Hawks, and somewhere before that. You could look it up... but why? Memory is more fun if less accurate.
What I'm flashing back to here is being about ten or eleven, on wintry days, wearing a pair of my dad's old Marine Corps red satin shorts, dribbling a basketball in my basement around the ping-pong table, shooting at one or another cardboard box (never mind the height), and doing play-by-play for myself. I was Tommy Heinsohn. I was Tom Gola. I was Bob Pettit. I was Paul Arizin. I was Bob Cousy. God forbid, I was Dolph Schayes. Al Attles. I think Baylor was in the league by then. Jerry Lucas, Oscar Robertson, John Havlicek were still in college - Havlicek maybe not yet.
I don't think I dared be Wilt or Bill Russell. And of course none of this came to anything; I have a sweet spot for a jump shot from the left edge of the free throw line, but now I can't jump.
And then there's that golf fellow, Eldrick whatever. 91 holes on a broken leg and a torn ACL, and he wins? Good God, what else does he ever need to do to prove himself? The man hit three shots in the last six holes of the third round (13, 17 and 18) that would be a career highlight reel for any other player. And he had the grace to laugh at his blind good fortune at the shot on 17.
Just hope that he recovers from his surgery and can play again, so we can watch more unbelievably good and bad shots and more utterly remarkable victories, and enjoy his debilitating effect on the psyche of every other golfer.
Thank you and good night. I'll be here all week.
Well, except for my friend Ernie Tervi. Ernie passed away a few days ago after losing a battle with cancer. Ernie had the most innocent heart of anyone I knew, but managed to tell some marvelously cynical stories and jokes, and some wonderful shaggy dog stories with outrageous puns. You don't want me to try to reproduce them here. I hadn't seen him in many years, but will remember him fondly.
All right. One quick Ernie Tervi joke. What did the elephant say when the truck ran over his trunk? (Hold your nose to say)"Nice, real f***ing nice." (Sounds like "Dice, real f***ig dice").
There are no other quick Ernie Tervi jokes. Ask me sometime to tell about Peter Piper and the spinster sisters, or Toivo and Eino and the Bearcat Scanner. They take about a week each, but they're wonderfully wrong.
I had a scary little dark mole working near my right eyebrow, but it turns out to be a "sebaceous keratoma." Translation: an age spot. Crap! I'm scared enough about old age without scaring myself with age spots! I have a few others of this type of extrusion on my hands, but this one was in process, pushing up a little crown, and it had my attention. All's well. Nonetheless I encourage everyone to use sunscreen, wear hats to shade the whole face and neck, and pay attention to moles and other quirks of complexion, especially when they start changing or growing. Both of my parents had several run-ins with little skin cancers, and both had other cancer concerns which contributed to their decline in health; who knows the relationship?
In a previous blog site, I railed repeatedly about the general ineptitude of other drivers. I don't want to return to that, but a recent trend in driving has caught my attention. This one makes sense: I am sure that traffic in general has slowed down. I used to set my cruise at a reasonable amount over the speed limit, and be passed by many vehicles, especially from Minnesota and Illinois. Since gasoline passed about $3.90, things have slowed down. I have dropped two or three MPH off my regular speed, and I am now one of the fastest vehicles out there. Only a few FIBs (that's Illinois drivers in Badgerspeak) now sail by me, and even they are generally under 80. I am working on adding about five minutes to my commute time; this is fine with a 9:30 start but really bites when I need to be in Eau Claire by 6 a.m.
Yes, Ross, I follow some sports. The Celtics destroyed the Lakers last night to win their 17th NBA title. Kevin Garnett was incoherent with joy. It's amazing: the NBA has been in existence for 62 years; 31 of the championships have gone to the Celtics or Lakers. Whatever happened to the Syracuse Nationals or the Rochester Royals? The Golden State Warriors used to play in Philadelphia. The Royals moved to Cincinnati, then to Kansas City as the Kings (or, for at least one season, the Kansas City - Omaha Kings); they now play in Sacramento. Of course, the Lakers got that name when they played in Minneapolis. If I remember right, the Pistons of Detroit used to play in Fort Wayne. The Atlanta Hawks were the St. Louis Hawks, and somewhere before that. You could look it up... but why? Memory is more fun if less accurate.
What I'm flashing back to here is being about ten or eleven, on wintry days, wearing a pair of my dad's old Marine Corps red satin shorts, dribbling a basketball in my basement around the ping-pong table, shooting at one or another cardboard box (never mind the height), and doing play-by-play for myself. I was Tommy Heinsohn. I was Tom Gola. I was Bob Pettit. I was Paul Arizin. I was Bob Cousy. God forbid, I was Dolph Schayes. Al Attles. I think Baylor was in the league by then. Jerry Lucas, Oscar Robertson, John Havlicek were still in college - Havlicek maybe not yet.
I don't think I dared be Wilt or Bill Russell. And of course none of this came to anything; I have a sweet spot for a jump shot from the left edge of the free throw line, but now I can't jump.
And then there's that golf fellow, Eldrick whatever. 91 holes on a broken leg and a torn ACL, and he wins? Good God, what else does he ever need to do to prove himself? The man hit three shots in the last six holes of the third round (13, 17 and 18) that would be a career highlight reel for any other player. And he had the grace to laugh at his blind good fortune at the shot on 17.
Just hope that he recovers from his surgery and can play again, so we can watch more unbelievably good and bad shots and more utterly remarkable victories, and enjoy his debilitating effect on the psyche of every other golfer.
Thank you and good night. I'll be here all week.
Up In The Air, Part 6
I may have to rename this thing, as we are - for now - back on the new foundation. I'm afraid that this will be the part where things get adventurous and possibly adversarial.
First, it appears that we know nothing about drain tiles, and that ours were laid improperly. We will have to check with the city inspector and find out whether the dirt needs to be ripped out and the job redone right.
Second, since we had no basement stairs, I hadn't looked through the basement door and down the stairwell area. I'm concerned that they laid the foundation in such a way that no appliance will ever pass that way again. How could they make it even narrower than it was? In the old basement, a washer or dryer would fit if I removed the basement door and the first trim strips, and if I didn't mind a small scratch from the fieldstone on one side. Washers and dryers are 27" wide and we had maybe 27-1/4" available. It looks as if our new foundation, while not as thick as the old one, errs slightly toward the inside, and I can barely wait to measure the available space between the stairwell wall (beneath our well-fixed stairs to the upper story) and the new block.
I really don't want to have the house go airborne again, but that wall has to allow appliances to go up and down stairs or it will have to be redone. As long as the drain tiles need to be done right, how hard is this? Except that the girders are gone, and the house movers haven't been paid, and I bet they won't come back. So the contractor will need to kiss some ass or find another house lifter.
Third, we continue to have problems keeping water and hot water supplied to the house. A temporary connecting hose for the water supply split this morning in the wee small hours, and we had some wet dirt in the excavation. The water heater is apparently hooked up and heating but ever since it got moved off its safe spot on the support crib, it hasn't supplied any flow. Cold showers have no charm even while camping, much less in my own home.
It also occurs to me that the contractor has said he has all required permits but we don't have them posted. I think we need to have him bring a permit board and nail it to some part of the house.
Let the pissing and moaning begin.
First, it appears that we know nothing about drain tiles, and that ours were laid improperly. We will have to check with the city inspector and find out whether the dirt needs to be ripped out and the job redone right.
Second, since we had no basement stairs, I hadn't looked through the basement door and down the stairwell area. I'm concerned that they laid the foundation in such a way that no appliance will ever pass that way again. How could they make it even narrower than it was? In the old basement, a washer or dryer would fit if I removed the basement door and the first trim strips, and if I didn't mind a small scratch from the fieldstone on one side. Washers and dryers are 27" wide and we had maybe 27-1/4" available. It looks as if our new foundation, while not as thick as the old one, errs slightly toward the inside, and I can barely wait to measure the available space between the stairwell wall (beneath our well-fixed stairs to the upper story) and the new block.
I really don't want to have the house go airborne again, but that wall has to allow appliances to go up and down stairs or it will have to be redone. As long as the drain tiles need to be done right, how hard is this? Except that the girders are gone, and the house movers haven't been paid, and I bet they won't come back. So the contractor will need to kiss some ass or find another house lifter.
Third, we continue to have problems keeping water and hot water supplied to the house. A temporary connecting hose for the water supply split this morning in the wee small hours, and we had some wet dirt in the excavation. The water heater is apparently hooked up and heating but ever since it got moved off its safe spot on the support crib, it hasn't supplied any flow. Cold showers have no charm even while camping, much less in my own home.
It also occurs to me that the contractor has said he has all required permits but we don't have them posted. I think we need to have him bring a permit board and nail it to some part of the house.
Let the pissing and moaning begin.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Up In The Air, Part 5
Not much visible has happened in the past few days. By peering through the openings in the basement where the girders still protrude, I can see that some of the interior drain tile has been laid, and there are a few odd 2x4s that appear to be getting ready to help hold us up until the microlam beams and posts are in and the girders are out. When that will be is as yet unknown.
Outside, concrete footings have been poured for the pillars of our front porch, the roof of which is still with us, resting on temporary posts on the girders. I think that will eventually come off and be rebuilt. I used to have a hammock chair screwed into a beam of the old porch roof; the hook pulled out of the beam and pulled part of a ceiling board down, and I landed hard on my keester. I wouldn't be sorry to see that board and beam replaced.
And we have an enclosure at the back door. We have had an open porch, with a step up about halfway along it. We collected snow, rain, snowment and blown oak leaves, but it was light and airy outside the kitchen door. The elevation of the house has changed; we are about a foot and a half higher, and by the time a floor is established on this new porch we have a couple of steps outside and a step up onto the porch. We have walls that weren't there before. There appears to be a big window coming (maybe 3'x3') and a door, which needs to have a lot of glass. The north wall doesn't have a window, but it will need at least a narrow one so we can see the garage. The immediate benefit is that we now have our back door available to use for the first time in two weeks; Lucy the dog is pretty happy.
Wendy won't like it. She fears that the back entry will seem to be a cave, and although the window will help, the door and the addition of a north view will be crucial to the final acceptance of this change. The enclosure is important, since the basement now extends beneath the back entry and a porch enclosure will keep rain and snow off of what amounts to the basement ceiling.
The enclosed area is long and narrow, so its main benefit will be weather protection rather than storage of any kind. We have no plans to finish or insulate it, although that may come later; I envision the eventual new door as being open most of the time except in crappy weather, and our current storm door staying in place. But, although most of our weather systems come in from some variant of the west, a lot of the actual rain and snow blow from the east or swirl around, and it will be a very nice thing to not get nailed by cold wet right outside the kitchen.
Wendy is out of town, and on her trip home she ran afoul of closures of the Interstates due to flooding. She found her way onto a detour that was awfully slow, and then lucked into finding another detour that has aimed her toward home rather than making her backtrack. The southern part of the state is coming out of the rain but continues to suffer from flooding. Iowa gets the news, because theirs is worse, but we have some raspy conditions. See an earlier rant.
Tiger Woods seems to be recovering nicely from his knee surgery. Tim Russert died today. The weekend is upon us. Enjoy.
Outside, concrete footings have been poured for the pillars of our front porch, the roof of which is still with us, resting on temporary posts on the girders. I think that will eventually come off and be rebuilt. I used to have a hammock chair screwed into a beam of the old porch roof; the hook pulled out of the beam and pulled part of a ceiling board down, and I landed hard on my keester. I wouldn't be sorry to see that board and beam replaced.
And we have an enclosure at the back door. We have had an open porch, with a step up about halfway along it. We collected snow, rain, snowment and blown oak leaves, but it was light and airy outside the kitchen door. The elevation of the house has changed; we are about a foot and a half higher, and by the time a floor is established on this new porch we have a couple of steps outside and a step up onto the porch. We have walls that weren't there before. There appears to be a big window coming (maybe 3'x3') and a door, which needs to have a lot of glass. The north wall doesn't have a window, but it will need at least a narrow one so we can see the garage. The immediate benefit is that we now have our back door available to use for the first time in two weeks; Lucy the dog is pretty happy.
Wendy won't like it. She fears that the back entry will seem to be a cave, and although the window will help, the door and the addition of a north view will be crucial to the final acceptance of this change. The enclosure is important, since the basement now extends beneath the back entry and a porch enclosure will keep rain and snow off of what amounts to the basement ceiling.
The enclosed area is long and narrow, so its main benefit will be weather protection rather than storage of any kind. We have no plans to finish or insulate it, although that may come later; I envision the eventual new door as being open most of the time except in crappy weather, and our current storm door staying in place. But, although most of our weather systems come in from some variant of the west, a lot of the actual rain and snow blow from the east or swirl around, and it will be a very nice thing to not get nailed by cold wet right outside the kitchen.
Wendy is out of town, and on her trip home she ran afoul of closures of the Interstates due to flooding. She found her way onto a detour that was awfully slow, and then lucked into finding another detour that has aimed her toward home rather than making her backtrack. The southern part of the state is coming out of the rain but continues to suffer from flooding. Iowa gets the news, because theirs is worse, but we have some raspy conditions. See an earlier rant.
Tiger Woods seems to be recovering nicely from his knee surgery. Tim Russert died today. The weekend is upon us. Enjoy.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
A Bit Off-Topic
I seem to have veered off-topic toward the end of the last post. It has been my goal, if not quite a firm rule, to stay away from politics, religion, and other areas in which I can offend somebody real easily.
I do have a few thoughts on these issues, and I believe I can express and defend them, and I am fully capable of changing my mind about as often as I change my socks. Some of my ideas smell about as good as the old socks. I just haven't wanted to, uh, bother people with them.
I'm not sure which Wisconsin district Steve Kagan represents in Congress - it used to be the Eighth, including the Fox Valley. I knew Kagan in school, and I believe him to be a good man and a good choice. I mention him because of the smell thing. In middle school, which back in those days was known as junior high, we were on the football team. Steve had a practice T-shirt which, worn daily under pads, never went home for laundry. Toward the end of the season, you could find his locker pretty easily. Showering after practice one day, another player let fly with an expletive which may or may not have offended someone of Steve's Jewish faith, and followed it with "Hey Kagan, I hope you're not around!" He was, and he came after the fellow brandishing this utterly ripe T-shirt, and rubbed it in his face. This was partly in fun and was met with laughter by all, including both fellows. Kagan is a Democrat, and I hope that folks in the Fox Valley will continue to elect him to whatever office he seeks. He's bright and a hard worker, and his youth was good enough that I think he's still all right.
I made a plea for Obama. You should know that I went for Hillary in the primary, with the goal that Obama would be the VP and have eight years to get ready for his own two terms to follow.
Considering their various strengths and ages, this made ultimate sense. But I remember the speech he gave at the 2004 convention, and I called it then: he had the Voice, and he would have to be considered sooner or later. The fall election requires that we do everything possible to remove the Republicans from power, since they have abused it every which way for eight years. But it also requires that we vote not only in the booth, but with our words and our works. Obama needs our help not only to win, but in the daily conduct of our lives, and in our interactions with each other and the world. If we want new leadership to make the changes we know are necessary, we can't just sit and hope the leaders will take care of it. We need to be the change.
Some changes will suck. Changing the way we deal with energy involves changes in our choices, from where we go and how we get there to food, clothing, entertainment, etc. Did you know that an old tube TV uses about 100 watts of power, and a plasma uses about 400? I am way out of line here, as I have much to change in my own ways, but a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Golly, have I heard that somewhere?
I have some philosophical trouble with some of my views. I support a woman's right to choose abortion or many other options. I support assisted suicide and the right of people to choose when to end their lives. These fit my view that 6 billion - and growing - is too many people for the planet. People are not the best place to store water. But should I then support capital punishment? Why would I be an organ donor - my driver's license says I am - when people who don't get organs will die? What about prenatal screening for severe disability? Should that encourage the choice of abortion? And who gets to choose? Who will snuff me if I can't choose for myself?
But we can move on energy. We can move on peace. We can move on health care, and on encouraging health instead of trying to fix it later. Sometimes we need to make tough choices -the best way to make alternative energy take over is to use tax and other government policies to reward change and punish the status quo. Can we do for solar and wind what we've done for ethanol? Shoot the lobbyists for oil?
And now you know why I generally stick to beer, yard work, and other small things that absorb me. Thanks for putting up with this one; I promise not to do it again soon.
I do have a few thoughts on these issues, and I believe I can express and defend them, and I am fully capable of changing my mind about as often as I change my socks. Some of my ideas smell about as good as the old socks. I just haven't wanted to, uh, bother people with them.
I'm not sure which Wisconsin district Steve Kagan represents in Congress - it used to be the Eighth, including the Fox Valley. I knew Kagan in school, and I believe him to be a good man and a good choice. I mention him because of the smell thing. In middle school, which back in those days was known as junior high, we were on the football team. Steve had a practice T-shirt which, worn daily under pads, never went home for laundry. Toward the end of the season, you could find his locker pretty easily. Showering after practice one day, another player let fly with an expletive which may or may not have offended someone of Steve's Jewish faith, and followed it with "Hey Kagan, I hope you're not around!" He was, and he came after the fellow brandishing this utterly ripe T-shirt, and rubbed it in his face. This was partly in fun and was met with laughter by all, including both fellows. Kagan is a Democrat, and I hope that folks in the Fox Valley will continue to elect him to whatever office he seeks. He's bright and a hard worker, and his youth was good enough that I think he's still all right.
I made a plea for Obama. You should know that I went for Hillary in the primary, with the goal that Obama would be the VP and have eight years to get ready for his own two terms to follow.
Considering their various strengths and ages, this made ultimate sense. But I remember the speech he gave at the 2004 convention, and I called it then: he had the Voice, and he would have to be considered sooner or later. The fall election requires that we do everything possible to remove the Republicans from power, since they have abused it every which way for eight years. But it also requires that we vote not only in the booth, but with our words and our works. Obama needs our help not only to win, but in the daily conduct of our lives, and in our interactions with each other and the world. If we want new leadership to make the changes we know are necessary, we can't just sit and hope the leaders will take care of it. We need to be the change.
Some changes will suck. Changing the way we deal with energy involves changes in our choices, from where we go and how we get there to food, clothing, entertainment, etc. Did you know that an old tube TV uses about 100 watts of power, and a plasma uses about 400? I am way out of line here, as I have much to change in my own ways, but a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Golly, have I heard that somewhere?
I have some philosophical trouble with some of my views. I support a woman's right to choose abortion or many other options. I support assisted suicide and the right of people to choose when to end their lives. These fit my view that 6 billion - and growing - is too many people for the planet. People are not the best place to store water. But should I then support capital punishment? Why would I be an organ donor - my driver's license says I am - when people who don't get organs will die? What about prenatal screening for severe disability? Should that encourage the choice of abortion? And who gets to choose? Who will snuff me if I can't choose for myself?
But we can move on energy. We can move on peace. We can move on health care, and on encouraging health instead of trying to fix it later. Sometimes we need to make tough choices -the best way to make alternative energy take over is to use tax and other government policies to reward change and punish the status quo. Can we do for solar and wind what we've done for ethanol? Shoot the lobbyists for oil?
And now you know why I generally stick to beer, yard work, and other small things that absorb me. Thanks for putting up with this one; I promise not to do it again soon.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Up In The Air, part 4
It's now June. On Monday, the Bobcat guys came back and finished off the demolition of our old basement, and graded the excavation. On Tuesday, the concrete guys began by pouring the concrete foot for the foundation, 20" wide by 8" deep, with two spots for the posts that are supposed to support the beams that will replace the old inside walls. Wednesday saw the first of two days of block laying; Thursday saw the finish of the block laying and the smearing of stucco (concrete) to seal the outside. Friday nothing happened. The drying process of mortar and stucco was visible, and happened apace in spite of more rain. We spent another weekend airborne. The blocks in our foundation are 12" deep by 8" high by 16" long; the 12" dimension is specific to foundation work. Each block has two cavities, which should provide some dead-air insulation.
I still don't know an awful lot about our general contractor, but all his subcontractors are good. The guy from Xcel Energy who came to mark lines for digging said he loved our Bobcat guy. The Bobcat guy was excellent, and he said that "nobody lays block like Dennis Fedderly," our concrete and block guy. We had needed some repair to our crawl space in the back some years ago, and this was the guy who did the block; the Bobcat guy said that the block repair was the hardest of everything to bust out during excavation.
Let's give a name to the Bobcat guy: Don Berg. He didn't use Bobcats per se; that's a trade name. Don has a couple of New Holland small tractors, one with big metal treads and one with rubber treads. He said that he earned his respect from Xcel Energy by damaging a gas line "a little bit, and I reported it pronto." He was the one who pointed out that we had a good deal of clay under the house, and he suggested drain tiles, which had not been bid originally because the general guy had assumed, reasonably enough, that we were on sandy soil as is much of the town. He put down wood guides for driving his tractors over the sidewalk and driveway. Have you seen the Tom Hanks film, "The Money Pit?" This (drain tiles) was going to be change number one.
Monday, two days ago, the concrete guys came and swabbed tar sealant on the new foundation.
Yesterday, all the debris in the yard was finally hauled away. This was great, because it included the old basement windows and broken glass, a good deal of 80-year-old sheet metal ductwork, odd brick and wood, etc., which had spilled a couple of feet into the other neighbor's yard. Much of the dirt was pushed back against the new blockwork, and our driveway was scraped clear of most of the stored dirt. The place began to look semi-normal.
Today, the house was lowered onto the new foundation. The girders are still under the house, so some blockwork is still to come, and the basement windows (including one "egress window") haven't been put in, but we're at the elevation we'll be at for years to come. This will be some 12 to 16 inches higher than before: it's a good thing, because it gives us room to grade the yard away from the house in ways that weren't possible before, but it means at least one more step on the front porch and some re-jiggering of the driveway and step to the back entrance. Hooray! - I still have plumbing, power, cable, etc., and the steep ramp on the jury-rigged porch is now less steep.
One challenge we hadn't addressed was the back entry. It had always been open, and subject to leaves, snowmelt, and other weather problems. Now, the basement will extend under it, so the elevation will change. How to weather-seal it? The contractor will put down a rubberized seal over the exposed basement ceiling that will now be outside our kitchen door, but we hadn't considered walling it off to keep away the onslaught of snow and rain. That's change number two ("Money Pit"); we will have what amounts to a vestibule outside the kitchen door. I had always considered hanging plexiglass on the railings we had, but now we'll have a wall, with a door and not enough windows. I envision a door that will be open except in wet or snowy weather; Wendy envisions a darkness that can't be alleviated no matter how many windows are put in. I wanted some form of double or sliding door, but that would jack the price even further than otherwise. Also, because of the change in elevation, we need to consider steps that weren't there before. They broke some of the driveway when they took out the back entry to make the new basement; how much can be taken up in the repair and how much needs to be a step?
Still to come: pulling the girders, and blocking in the holes. Setting the windows. Figuring out where the water and gas will be piped to. Figuring out where the water pipes and the drainage (toilets, etc.) need to get into the floor. Figuring out the location for the floor drain, which will be determined by the location of the furnace. Venting the furnace and the dryer. Setting the sump pump for the drain tiles. Possibly choosing an on-demand water heater. Pouring the new basement floor, which is subject to much of the above. Building new basement stairs(!). )Placing new light fixtures and electric plugs. Putting in new sheet metal ductwork, and reconnecting the furnace and central air. Somehow we need to set up a "utility room," with the furnace, the laundry, the water heater, etc., in such a way that some future owner can finish the basement if needed.
What a mercy - only for this selfish reason - that we haven't suffered a heat wave! I could kill for some 85-degree weather, which we haven't had yet, but in these circumstances it can wait another couple of weeks. I've worn shorts for only three days; last year my third day was sometime in April. It's yet another rainy day, with severe weather threats for overnight, and for tomorrow in the southern half of the state, where Wendy is at a meeting, and the yard is still a sea of mud. Can you imagine: Lake Delton, by Wisconsin Dells, blew out its impoundment and flowed away! The Tommy Bartlett Waterski Show has no water on which to perform! This was part of the same flooding that washed away a number of houses in the Dells. Great TV film, but holy crap!
This has been a year of a record number of tornadoes and incredible amounts of rain, widespread flooding and some other remarkable weather. Gobs of baseball-sized hail. Snow in the West. Drought in the Southeast.
We want urgently to help the people in Myanmar after the cyclone, and the junta won't let help in . That's news. We want urgently to help the people of China after the devastating earthquakes.
What does the rest of the world feel about the steady parade of natural disasters in the US? Except for Katrina, have we ever received offers of aid for any of our horrible weather-related catastrophes? Is, for example, Germany interested in helping out in the Dells?
One of the curses of our ambivalent foreign policy, and especially the Bush Administration's steady pissing off of other countries, is that we are not considered a part of the world community, but some special case that needs no help but can be called upon if somebody else is in need and blamed if we don't respond . Our next President (dear Lord, let it be Obama) needs to lead a very specific effort to integrate us into the wider world, so that we can extend help when we can - it wouldn't be America if we didn't - but so that others will extend help to us at need.
Sorry. That's a bit off topic. But Jesus! How can one eight-year period so alienate us from the whole world? Anyway, you're up to date. Wendy's in Milwaukee, and I'm off to bed.
I still don't know an awful lot about our general contractor, but all his subcontractors are good. The guy from Xcel Energy who came to mark lines for digging said he loved our Bobcat guy. The Bobcat guy was excellent, and he said that "nobody lays block like Dennis Fedderly," our concrete and block guy. We had needed some repair to our crawl space in the back some years ago, and this was the guy who did the block; the Bobcat guy said that the block repair was the hardest of everything to bust out during excavation.
Let's give a name to the Bobcat guy: Don Berg. He didn't use Bobcats per se; that's a trade name. Don has a couple of New Holland small tractors, one with big metal treads and one with rubber treads. He said that he earned his respect from Xcel Energy by damaging a gas line "a little bit, and I reported it pronto." He was the one who pointed out that we had a good deal of clay under the house, and he suggested drain tiles, which had not been bid originally because the general guy had assumed, reasonably enough, that we were on sandy soil as is much of the town. He put down wood guides for driving his tractors over the sidewalk and driveway. Have you seen the Tom Hanks film, "The Money Pit?" This (drain tiles) was going to be change number one.
Monday, two days ago, the concrete guys came and swabbed tar sealant on the new foundation.
Yesterday, all the debris in the yard was finally hauled away. This was great, because it included the old basement windows and broken glass, a good deal of 80-year-old sheet metal ductwork, odd brick and wood, etc., which had spilled a couple of feet into the other neighbor's yard. Much of the dirt was pushed back against the new blockwork, and our driveway was scraped clear of most of the stored dirt. The place began to look semi-normal.
Today, the house was lowered onto the new foundation. The girders are still under the house, so some blockwork is still to come, and the basement windows (including one "egress window") haven't been put in, but we're at the elevation we'll be at for years to come. This will be some 12 to 16 inches higher than before: it's a good thing, because it gives us room to grade the yard away from the house in ways that weren't possible before, but it means at least one more step on the front porch and some re-jiggering of the driveway and step to the back entrance. Hooray! - I still have plumbing, power, cable, etc., and the steep ramp on the jury-rigged porch is now less steep.
One challenge we hadn't addressed was the back entry. It had always been open, and subject to leaves, snowmelt, and other weather problems. Now, the basement will extend under it, so the elevation will change. How to weather-seal it? The contractor will put down a rubberized seal over the exposed basement ceiling that will now be outside our kitchen door, but we hadn't considered walling it off to keep away the onslaught of snow and rain. That's change number two ("Money Pit"); we will have what amounts to a vestibule outside the kitchen door. I had always considered hanging plexiglass on the railings we had, but now we'll have a wall, with a door and not enough windows. I envision a door that will be open except in wet or snowy weather; Wendy envisions a darkness that can't be alleviated no matter how many windows are put in. I wanted some form of double or sliding door, but that would jack the price even further than otherwise. Also, because of the change in elevation, we need to consider steps that weren't there before. They broke some of the driveway when they took out the back entry to make the new basement; how much can be taken up in the repair and how much needs to be a step?
Still to come: pulling the girders, and blocking in the holes. Setting the windows. Figuring out where the water and gas will be piped to. Figuring out where the water pipes and the drainage (toilets, etc.) need to get into the floor. Figuring out the location for the floor drain, which will be determined by the location of the furnace. Venting the furnace and the dryer. Setting the sump pump for the drain tiles. Possibly choosing an on-demand water heater. Pouring the new basement floor, which is subject to much of the above. Building new basement stairs(!). )Placing new light fixtures and electric plugs. Putting in new sheet metal ductwork, and reconnecting the furnace and central air. Somehow we need to set up a "utility room," with the furnace, the laundry, the water heater, etc., in such a way that some future owner can finish the basement if needed.
What a mercy - only for this selfish reason - that we haven't suffered a heat wave! I could kill for some 85-degree weather, which we haven't had yet, but in these circumstances it can wait another couple of weeks. I've worn shorts for only three days; last year my third day was sometime in April. It's yet another rainy day, with severe weather threats for overnight, and for tomorrow in the southern half of the state, where Wendy is at a meeting, and the yard is still a sea of mud. Can you imagine: Lake Delton, by Wisconsin Dells, blew out its impoundment and flowed away! The Tommy Bartlett Waterski Show has no water on which to perform! This was part of the same flooding that washed away a number of houses in the Dells. Great TV film, but holy crap!
This has been a year of a record number of tornadoes and incredible amounts of rain, widespread flooding and some other remarkable weather. Gobs of baseball-sized hail. Snow in the West. Drought in the Southeast.
We want urgently to help the people in Myanmar after the cyclone, and the junta won't let help in . That's news. We want urgently to help the people of China after the devastating earthquakes.
What does the rest of the world feel about the steady parade of natural disasters in the US? Except for Katrina, have we ever received offers of aid for any of our horrible weather-related catastrophes? Is, for example, Germany interested in helping out in the Dells?
One of the curses of our ambivalent foreign policy, and especially the Bush Administration's steady pissing off of other countries, is that we are not considered a part of the world community, but some special case that needs no help but can be called upon if somebody else is in need and blamed if we don't respond . Our next President (dear Lord, let it be Obama) needs to lead a very specific effort to integrate us into the wider world, so that we can extend help when we can - it wouldn't be America if we didn't - but so that others will extend help to us at need.
Sorry. That's a bit off topic. But Jesus! How can one eight-year period so alienate us from the whole world? Anyway, you're up to date. Wendy's in Milwaukee, and I'm off to bed.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Up In The Air, part 3
There was some exciting advancement today, so I'm a little pumped to pick up the tale.
The Friday before Memorial Day, the contractor had a Bobcat in to begin the preparation. They wiped out the front and side-of-house garden, began chewing up the yard, took out window wells at the basement windows, and generally removed things which would be in the way as they prepped and lifted the house. Of course, it rained during the weekend, and the changed slopes conducted water to the leaky old windows and the leaky old walls, and we had some water in the basement. I just swept it to the dirt spot.
During the last week of May, the house went up. The house mover came Tuesday (Monday holiday, of course) and knocked holes in the old basement to make room for girders. Wednesday they raised the house, ripped off the front porch, and began demolishing the old basement. We had to enter the back door by putting a footstool on the back porch, and we had no water or toilets. We left the pets in the house - the dog figured out how to use the footstool to get in and out - and went to the Super 8 for the night. I ran over Thursday morning and walked the dog, and got her back in, then went back to the motel and we left for work from there. Thursday they removed the back porch, part of the basement enlargement, and we needed a five-foot ladder to get into the back door. Lucy jumped out just fine, but it was drippy and the 80-pound dog didn't want to be lifted in by someone on the brink of a big hole in the rain, so we went back to the Super 8 and paid the fee for pets (actually not - they forgot to put it on the bill). Now it gets fun: we had checked in, and Wendy was walking Lucy to our second floor room, I was in the lobby with our overnight bags, and bam! a bolt of lightning, a crack of thunder almost simultaneously, and all of the north side of town lost power. So, to recap: the house had electricity, but no water or toilet, and we couldn't get the dog in, but the motel had no power. The three of us sat in the room, watched the lightning, and laughed. Well, maybe not Lucy, but she jumped up on a bed and didn't move all night. Power was back in 20 minutes. Lucy did pretty well in the dining area: McDonald's cheeseburger Thursday night, hotel make-your-own waffle Friday morning. She spent the day at a neighbor's with her dog friend Miles.
By Friday evening, they had patched in a water connection and some PVC for toilets, and hung the water heater on one of the cribs (stacks of railroad ties used to hold the girders on which the house sits. Looks a bit like one of the wonderful campfire stacks from Boy Scout Camp, or something out of big Lincoln Logs). The contractor had to come back and turn the water ON, and turn the water heater outflow valve ON, but we were somewhat home. We also had a jury-rigged, steepish ramp up to the front door. Once he climbed up a 12-foot ladder to come in the back door and unlock the front door, we were even more home. Hey, we had power, cable and internet - it took yet another contractor visit to find and hook up our cable phone modem - and we could shower and pee. Lucy needed about a day to get used to the ramp, but she is handling it well. We've been in the house ever since.
Bobcat work and demolition was going on Thursday and Friday, but wasn't quite done, so we sat another weekend with demolition crap and heaps of dirt in the yard. You may know that this has been a cool, rainy spring; we haven't suffered the horrible excess of rain and flooding that begins about 60 miles south, but any rain made our lot a sea of mud. During the moving and excavation process, our driveway was covered in dirt to protect the concrete, but that just made our mud sea larger. Wendy's bike, our garbage cans, and much of the brick from our entry sidewalk resided in our neighbr's yard (we're mowing it for him this summer - we owe him!).
The Friday before Memorial Day, the contractor had a Bobcat in to begin the preparation. They wiped out the front and side-of-house garden, began chewing up the yard, took out window wells at the basement windows, and generally removed things which would be in the way as they prepped and lifted the house. Of course, it rained during the weekend, and the changed slopes conducted water to the leaky old windows and the leaky old walls, and we had some water in the basement. I just swept it to the dirt spot.
During the last week of May, the house went up. The house mover came Tuesday (Monday holiday, of course) and knocked holes in the old basement to make room for girders. Wednesday they raised the house, ripped off the front porch, and began demolishing the old basement. We had to enter the back door by putting a footstool on the back porch, and we had no water or toilets. We left the pets in the house - the dog figured out how to use the footstool to get in and out - and went to the Super 8 for the night. I ran over Thursday morning and walked the dog, and got her back in, then went back to the motel and we left for work from there. Thursday they removed the back porch, part of the basement enlargement, and we needed a five-foot ladder to get into the back door. Lucy jumped out just fine, but it was drippy and the 80-pound dog didn't want to be lifted in by someone on the brink of a big hole in the rain, so we went back to the Super 8 and paid the fee for pets (actually not - they forgot to put it on the bill). Now it gets fun: we had checked in, and Wendy was walking Lucy to our second floor room, I was in the lobby with our overnight bags, and bam! a bolt of lightning, a crack of thunder almost simultaneously, and all of the north side of town lost power. So, to recap: the house had electricity, but no water or toilet, and we couldn't get the dog in, but the motel had no power. The three of us sat in the room, watched the lightning, and laughed. Well, maybe not Lucy, but she jumped up on a bed and didn't move all night. Power was back in 20 minutes. Lucy did pretty well in the dining area: McDonald's cheeseburger Thursday night, hotel make-your-own waffle Friday morning. She spent the day at a neighbor's with her dog friend Miles.
By Friday evening, they had patched in a water connection and some PVC for toilets, and hung the water heater on one of the cribs (stacks of railroad ties used to hold the girders on which the house sits. Looks a bit like one of the wonderful campfire stacks from Boy Scout Camp, or something out of big Lincoln Logs). The contractor had to come back and turn the water ON, and turn the water heater outflow valve ON, but we were somewhat home. We also had a jury-rigged, steepish ramp up to the front door. Once he climbed up a 12-foot ladder to come in the back door and unlock the front door, we were even more home. Hey, we had power, cable and internet - it took yet another contractor visit to find and hook up our cable phone modem - and we could shower and pee. Lucy needed about a day to get used to the ramp, but she is handling it well. We've been in the house ever since.
Bobcat work and demolition was going on Thursday and Friday, but wasn't quite done, so we sat another weekend with demolition crap and heaps of dirt in the yard. You may know that this has been a cool, rainy spring; we haven't suffered the horrible excess of rain and flooding that begins about 60 miles south, but any rain made our lot a sea of mud. During the moving and excavation process, our driveway was covered in dirt to protect the concrete, but that just made our mud sea larger. Wendy's bike, our garbage cans, and much of the brick from our entry sidewalk resided in our neighbr's yard (we're mowing it for him this summer - we owe him!).
Monday, June 9, 2008
Up In The Air, part 2
Once we decided to go ahead with this goofy project, Wendy's first concern was the garden areas: they were all to be destroyed during the process. We moved some of our perennials to other places in our yard which we thought would be safe, and we borrowed an 8'x30' spot in the yard next door (the house is vacant, and owned by a man whom we've known since he was a small boy), and we borrowed a big honking rototiller to get it ready. We only sliced through the Invisible Fence wire once, and now - after a spendy service call - I know how to fix it. Some of these plants have history: a lily that has managed to bloom on our anniversary every year for the past 20, plants from Wendy's father's yard, from her mother's yard, from friends now deceased from our church, and so on. So far all are surviving, although the poppies are not much to look at (they don't transplant well) and it's hard to say how the tulip and daffodil bulbs will do, as they were moved mainly so they could die down in the normal way. A big hydrangea and a couple of varietal lilac bushes are sitting in the clumps they came out in.
Then came the emptying of the basement. For all that we couldn't keep down there, a whole great pile of stuff required hauling up the rickety steps: Paint cans from most of our most recent interior jobs, and at least one can from the last exterior job (this is great, as we have the color code for new paint which will be needed), plus a few that will need to go to the solid waste recycler. Tools: some of mine, some of my dad's, some of my grandfather's, and some that came from who knows where (anybody missing any?). Food (canned, mostly), pots, pans, seldom-used small appliances. Coolers - I have two or three old-school gallon water jugs. Old lamps that we fully intend to have repaired. Laundry supplies. Shelving. Folding chairs, card tables, and two old wooden rocking chairs. Sporting goods, Christmas lights, cleaning supplies, vases (at least a dozen!), nails, screws, various old hardware that I don't have the foggiest how to use, etc. The cat's litter box had to be relocated. Mercifully, Laura and Ross were here for a weekend and they helped a great deal. The washer, the dryer, the freezer, a couple big tables, and the furnace were hauled out a bit later by the Bobcat guys.
The house was to be lifted as if to be moved, so the old basement could come out. We didn't know how smoothly that would go, so we took down mirrors and wall-hung art. My collection of beer bottles - all Porters, who knew there were so many varieties (40+ bottles so far)? - came off the shelves, as did some other precious items. We emptied our hutch and boxed the contents. This appears not to have been necessary, although I am in our back room addition now and it sways ever so slightly when my wife walks through.
Then came the emptying of the basement. For all that we couldn't keep down there, a whole great pile of stuff required hauling up the rickety steps: Paint cans from most of our most recent interior jobs, and at least one can from the last exterior job (this is great, as we have the color code for new paint which will be needed), plus a few that will need to go to the solid waste recycler. Tools: some of mine, some of my dad's, some of my grandfather's, and some that came from who knows where (anybody missing any?). Food (canned, mostly), pots, pans, seldom-used small appliances. Coolers - I have two or three old-school gallon water jugs. Old lamps that we fully intend to have repaired. Laundry supplies. Shelving. Folding chairs, card tables, and two old wooden rocking chairs. Sporting goods, Christmas lights, cleaning supplies, vases (at least a dozen!), nails, screws, various old hardware that I don't have the foggiest how to use, etc. The cat's litter box had to be relocated. Mercifully, Laura and Ross were here for a weekend and they helped a great deal. The washer, the dryer, the freezer, a couple big tables, and the furnace were hauled out a bit later by the Bobcat guys.
The house was to be lifted as if to be moved, so the old basement could come out. We didn't know how smoothly that would go, so we took down mirrors and wall-hung art. My collection of beer bottles - all Porters, who knew there were so many varieties (40+ bottles so far)? - came off the shelves, as did some other precious items. We emptied our hutch and boxed the contents. This appears not to have been necessary, although I am in our back room addition now and it sways ever so slightly when my wife walks through.
Up In The Air, part 1.
The past few weeks have been a challenge. We decided to have our house raised, the old, failing basement ripped out and a new one put in. It was one of those things that started out as a visit to our little local home show to check into roofing options.
More likely, it started in the 1920's, when this house was moved to a fieldstone and brick foundation in which both the fieldstone and the mortar contained lots of sand. When we moved in in 1982, the basement was prone to getting wet in most rainstorms. For years, the sand fell out of the mortar to the point that you could see between stones, and the basement was a sanctuary for Daddy Longlegs spiders. While we redirected much of the rainwater with eavestroughs, drip rails and some regrading, the dampness got in. The floor drain was above the level of the floor, and some of the concrete had been chipped away to reveal open dirt; we just swept water to the open part and let it soak away. The basement was cold - great for storing wine and better beers, but not inviting - and would get clammily damp at temperatures too cold for the dehumidifier. Even some good hardware picked up a patina of rust, and many items simply couldn't be stored down there. The stairway was, by 1/8", wide enough for modern appliances, and was rickety. Our daughter once said, "Other people have a basement. We have a cellar." Under a 1920's backroom addition was a crawlspace that included the old coal chute; a handyman framed up some insulation to keep the back shower pipes from freezing.
At the home show, we talked to a couple of local contractors about various roofing materials. Since the whole show had about 20 exhibitors (our town isn't that large), we got a good cross section. We got to chatting with one guy about a possible project that included changing that back room, adding a deck, possibly putting n a hot tub, etc., etc. We invited him, along with a couple of the roofers, to stop over and give us a bid.
When he showed up with the bid, it included the whole new basement, replacement of the front porch, and a roof. The changes to the back room, the deck, the hot tub - not mentioned. But I'd been nursing the dream of a clean, dry basement for a long time, and my lovely wife, though noting the absence of the things she wanted, recognized the need.
At the bank, we found that solid credit is a good thing to have when it comes time to access some of that credit. The weird part is that our new loan, which finished off a previous one, is for somewhat more than we paid for the house all those years ago.
In the next installment, the project begins.
More likely, it started in the 1920's, when this house was moved to a fieldstone and brick foundation in which both the fieldstone and the mortar contained lots of sand. When we moved in in 1982, the basement was prone to getting wet in most rainstorms. For years, the sand fell out of the mortar to the point that you could see between stones, and the basement was a sanctuary for Daddy Longlegs spiders. While we redirected much of the rainwater with eavestroughs, drip rails and some regrading, the dampness got in. The floor drain was above the level of the floor, and some of the concrete had been chipped away to reveal open dirt; we just swept water to the open part and let it soak away. The basement was cold - great for storing wine and better beers, but not inviting - and would get clammily damp at temperatures too cold for the dehumidifier. Even some good hardware picked up a patina of rust, and many items simply couldn't be stored down there. The stairway was, by 1/8", wide enough for modern appliances, and was rickety. Our daughter once said, "Other people have a basement. We have a cellar." Under a 1920's backroom addition was a crawlspace that included the old coal chute; a handyman framed up some insulation to keep the back shower pipes from freezing.
At the home show, we talked to a couple of local contractors about various roofing materials. Since the whole show had about 20 exhibitors (our town isn't that large), we got a good cross section. We got to chatting with one guy about a possible project that included changing that back room, adding a deck, possibly putting n a hot tub, etc., etc. We invited him, along with a couple of the roofers, to stop over and give us a bid.
When he showed up with the bid, it included the whole new basement, replacement of the front porch, and a roof. The changes to the back room, the deck, the hot tub - not mentioned. But I'd been nursing the dream of a clean, dry basement for a long time, and my lovely wife, though noting the absence of the things she wanted, recognized the need.
At the bank, we found that solid credit is a good thing to have when it comes time to access some of that credit. The weird part is that our new loan, which finished off a previous one, is for somewhat more than we paid for the house all those years ago.
In the next installment, the project begins.
Can I welcome myself?
I'm back. I used to do this, under the same names at another site. I stopped because I felt I was whining about the same things for the second, third or fourth times. Whether or not it was fun for readers, it wasn't so for me.
Now it seems I have some new things to kvetch about, so we'll fire up a new blog and see how it goes. I invite your comments, especially those that encourage me to move on if I get locked on to a dead topic.
Now it seems I have some new things to kvetch about, so we'll fire up a new blog and see how it goes. I invite your comments, especially those that encourage me to move on if I get locked on to a dead topic.
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