It started out like an ordinary day, like any other Tuesday morning.
The day before had been a long, tough one that spilled over into the evening. I was busily trying to arrange interviews for an executive during a visit to the Northwest. I’d landed the interest of a leading aerospace reporter, but not until said executive was already en route. It shouldn’t have been a problem, except the executive went all primadonna and wouldn’t do the interview. So I’d wasted about two hours of my day, three hours of my evening and what might have proven to be a valuable contact. Gee, thanks.
On Sept. 11, 2001, I still had to be at work around 5:30 a.m. (A time I now rise at most days.) Still irked by the events of the previous night, I arrived at the office in a foul mood. I was greeted with a voicemail from a freelancer for the Chicago Tribune who wanted to do a story I’d pitched forever ago. Wow. Pat self on back, furiously.
But how quickly both my joy and disappointment would fade. How insignificant both would become in just a few, brief moments.
It was still early and the halls were still fairly quiet when a long-gone assistant stuck her head in my door. “A plane just hit the World Trade Center. They think it was a small, private jet gone off course. Maybe the guy had a heart attack or something.”
Man, that’s terrible. What a freak accident. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before it became clear that it was no accident. I heard muttering in the hallway, and heard people asking the whereabouts of people in my department.
Barb the assistant appeared once again. “Another plane just hit. It’s terrorism. About a dozen commercial flights are unaccounted for – and we’ve got lots of people traveling today.” And I have a dear friend who, at that time, was an American Airlines flight attendant. Dear God, please don’t let her be flying today.
Thankfully, she wasn’t. And while several of my colleagues were traveling, they ended up stuck at their destinations or else grounded on tarmacs.
But a lot of people lost family and friends that day. Thousands of them. My heart goes out to them. I can't begin to comprehend their loss. I'm still to this very day taken aback by one thing: All any of the dead did wrong was to show up for work like usual. Or to board a plane. That's it. And they were murdered for it.
Tomorrow is guaranteed to no one. On this day of all days, remember how quickly your life can change. Tell the people you love that you love them. Get that extra hug. Be patient with someone you don't know. Smile -- at everyone. (You might make their day.) Say please and thank you.
There's any number of little things all of us can do to make life better for ourselves and for others. And none of us know for sure just how many chances we have to do them.
A non-professional,faux home improvement blog dedicated to the insane yet diligent do-it-yourselfer,thoroughly peppered with random views and thoughts from me
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
The Turn of the Screw
Have you ever taken on a task late in the evening – while you’re in the middle of doing six other things – fully believing that it may take you 10 minutes, and then an hour later …? I think you see where this is going.
As part of her house-scrubbing task yesterday, the mother removed the mailbox from the house. She was busily scrubbing it last night (It’s brass and therefore in need of almost constant cleaning. Pretty stuff can be a real pain in the ass.) and the door kept flopping open, making her grumble.
Sorry, folks. No ghostly encounters or children to fear in this version of the classic tale. Just tools, stubborn hardware and occasional profanity.
For the longest time, the knob on the side that allows the mailman to open the box to put larger mail in (it has a letter slot on the front) and us to take the mail out has been loose. This wouldn’t be so bad except that its being loose allows the metal clip that it holds against the inside of the door to spin. What that means is that the clip then hangs upside down and won’t properly interlock with the retainer mounted to the inside of the box to keep the door closed.
For the longest time, the knob on the side that allows the mailman to open the box to put larger mail in (it has a letter slot on the front) and us to take the mail out has been loose. This wouldn’t be so bad except that its being loose allows the metal clip that it holds against the inside of the door to spin. What that means is that the clip then hangs upside down and won’t properly interlock with the retainer mounted to the inside of the box to keep the door closed.
“The screw just needs to be tightened, but it’s not a regular kind of screw,” says the mother. I opened the door to find what was once a Phillips-head screw. It had been a Phillips-head, tightened many times before rust, age, and years of abuse at the hands of the mailman had taken its toll. I successfully turned the screw, only to move the knob, not tighten the screw. I went and got my collection of driver bits and the drill. While the occasional Phillips or slotted screw would work, for about a second, the knob still just spun.
It took two sets of pliers to ultimately get things rolling. I held the knob in place with a pair of needle-nose while using a regular pair to painstakingly free the rusted screw. At last, success! But that was only half the battle.
I spent the next 30 minutes sorting through my vast array of hardware (and buddy, I own just about every kind of fastener there is) trying to find one to fit. I found several candidates, all of whom fit the knob and kept it attached, but none would sufficiently tighten the clip. Does everything really have to be this difficult, even something as stupidly simple as this? This went on for nearly an hour. And then finally, the shoe fit and they all lived happily ever after. OOps. Wrong story.
Finally, with just one or two left, I was able to get one to tighten all the way, using the drill. The clip was in place and the door shut -- and stayed that way. The mother was delighted, but was not very pleased that the mailbox had yet to return to its usual shiny surface. "I'm going to get a new one -- next year," she announced.
Let's hope it comes before that knob gets loose again ...
Are We REALLY Still Here?
Or have they not yet turned on that massive particle accelerator?! Nope, it's been switched on. This article though says that it is still a year away from full power. So I guess we can't really say for sure yet whether or not we'll be sucked out of existence by a series of small black holes.
One thing anyway, if it WAS the End of Days, I at least got to see most of an awesome sunrise. There is just something exhilirating about watching as your back window fills up with those first reds, oranges and pinks starting to blast their way into day.
And I got to drive across my beloved McKinley Bridge, the same structure that has linked at least four generations of my family to downtown St. Louis. The same bridge that CD and I grew up at opposite ends of.
I'm in ultra-early, even for me, because I'm gone at noon. Taking half a vacation day to go try to finish the shed interior, help the mother finish scrubbing the outside of the house, and maybe, just maybe, start on the exterior of Pimp My Shed. That's a lot to expect in less than seven hours, but we'll see.
At least I'm still here to try.
One thing anyway, if it WAS the End of Days, I at least got to see most of an awesome sunrise. There is just something exhilirating about watching as your back window fills up with those first reds, oranges and pinks starting to blast their way into day.
And I got to drive across my beloved McKinley Bridge, the same structure that has linked at least four generations of my family to downtown St. Louis. The same bridge that CD and I grew up at opposite ends of.
I'm in ultra-early, even for me, because I'm gone at noon. Taking half a vacation day to go try to finish the shed interior, help the mother finish scrubbing the outside of the house, and maybe, just maybe, start on the exterior of Pimp My Shed. That's a lot to expect in less than seven hours, but we'll see.
At least I'm still here to try.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Son of Lawnmower Man
As it turns out, Lawnmower Man, menace to society though he may be, has a son. The son is nice, he's not insane, he does a fantastic job of edging and he's not expensive.
He even works on holidays. (Yard work is a sidejob for him.) He came over on Labor Day and edged the whole driveway so it's in pretty good shape for me to get my sealing job underway.
I think I've found someone to regularly do my trim work! YAY!
Now to finish the shed and get Mother Nature to cooperate. Hmmmmm....
He even works on holidays. (Yard work is a sidejob for him.) He came over on Labor Day and edged the whole driveway so it's in pretty good shape for me to get my sealing job underway.
I think I've found someone to regularly do my trim work! YAY!
Now to finish the shed and get Mother Nature to cooperate. Hmmmmm....
Sometimes I Hate Blogger
Like now. When it puts my newest post below yesterday's only because I STARTED it yesterday. Right now, it looks like I didn't update the blog.
Stupid damn program. I should be able to start a draft and it post when I publish it!
Stupid damn program. I should be able to start a draft and it post when I publish it!
Monday, September 8, 2008
Armageddon?
It’s the end of the world as we know it … and I feel fine. – R.E.M.
There’s a scientific experiment going on in just a few days (Sept. 10) that, depending on whom you believe, has the potential to destroy the earth. I’m probably not explaining this right, but I think what it boils down to is that they’re going to flip on this massive particle accelerator that will in effect mimic the Big Bang, but on a much smaller scale.
What it could do is touch off a black hole or a series of black holes that would then set about consuming all the matter that is earth and either instantly or within about a month (again, depending on whose camp you choose to believe) we’re gone.
A friend hosted a now infamous End of the World party in 1982 when some disaster or another was to befall earth and wipe out mankind. (I didn’t go; I can’t remember why.) There was a similar kind of threat in 1984 and maybe the world really did end. Part of it did for me. Financial aid for college dried up under this administration so I took on a third part-time job. At the time I remember thinking, albeit fleetingly, why am I doing this if we’re all going to die soon anyway?
A few more years later, my part of the world was threatened again when Iben Browning began predicting that the New Madrid Fault was going to level the Mississippi Valley surrounding it. Clearly, that didn’t happen either. So, much like Huck Finn, the details of earth's demise have been greatly exaggerated.
But just in case the world does end Wednesday, it’s been nice knowin’ ya.
And here I thought we had until December 2012 when the Mayan calendar supposedly ends.
There’s a scientific experiment going on in just a few days (Sept. 10) that, depending on whom you believe, has the potential to destroy the earth. I’m probably not explaining this right, but I think what it boils down to is that they’re going to flip on this massive particle accelerator that will in effect mimic the Big Bang, but on a much smaller scale.
What it could do is touch off a black hole or a series of black holes that would then set about consuming all the matter that is earth and either instantly or within about a month (again, depending on whose camp you choose to believe) we’re gone.
A friend hosted a now infamous End of the World party in 1982 when some disaster or another was to befall earth and wipe out mankind. (I didn’t go; I can’t remember why.) There was a similar kind of threat in 1984 and maybe the world really did end. Part of it did for me. Financial aid for college dried up under this administration so I took on a third part-time job. At the time I remember thinking, albeit fleetingly, why am I doing this if we’re all going to die soon anyway?
A few more years later, my part of the world was threatened again when Iben Browning began predicting that the New Madrid Fault was going to level the Mississippi Valley surrounding it. Clearly, that didn’t happen either. So, much like Huck Finn, the details of earth's demise have been greatly exaggerated.
But just in case the world does end Wednesday, it’s been nice knowin’ ya.
And here I thought we had until December 2012 when the Mayan calendar supposedly ends.
Add-An-Outlet
Notice anything different about these two photos? There's a few, but the most important difference is the presence of an outlet.
When This D*mn House – and lots of others like it – were built around 1940, its original occupants didn’t have too many uses for electrical outlets. Oh, there were lamps and radios and the occasional kitchen gadgetry, but beyond that, nothing. There weren’t even televisions yet!
And a lot of people still didn’t have telephones, so the thought of one that you could walk around with that didn’t even have a cord … stop, you’re makin’ it up!
But almost 70 years later, the lack of outlets can be a real pain in the butt for current occupants who need electricity for almost everything. Phones, computers, iPods, televisions, just about everything in the kitchen, and tools, let’s not forget tools, all need a place to be plugged.
The hallway that runs between our bedrooms and which houses the bathroom in between has always been dark. REALLY dark. And when you run the sweeper, you have to plug it in behind the sofa or under the buffet in the dining room in order to reach the whole space, small though it may be. (And you even need an extension cord to do this.)
So during Lawrence’s last visit, we set out to change all that. The mother wanted an outlet in the darkened hallway and another in the dining room under the window. It looks like someone may have done this once or at least tried to do it; there’s a cover over a junction box with nothing connected to it.
Lawrence said it can be done, it just couldn’t be done that day as it’s going to require drilling holes through the family room ceiling. (Good thing we have plans for that ceiling that haven’t been done yet …) But on this particular day, with a little doing, we managed to get an outlet wired in the hallway. See the difference in the pictures?
It’s still weird to me. After 20+ years of one not being there, it’s occasionally odd to catch a glint from the switch plate that’s been there just a few weeks. The mother is going to put a lamp on that table eventually. For right now, it’s nice to have a place to plug in my phone or my laptop that’s just outside my door when my meager outlets are already full.
I was shocked by the cost of the electrical wire. And we only bought 50 feet! Most of which is still in the package awaiting the next job ...
When the Going Gets Tough
The Tough Go Shopping! And that's just what the mother and I did yesterday. It was nice, not to mention different, to do something together that didn't involve This D*mn House.
She declared it “too wet” to pull everything out of the shed and continue that effort. (It really wasn’t though. I was all prepared to go out and get started when I finally awoke from my late summer’s nap just after noon. Granted, the earlier rain had wet things down, but the sun came out and was slowly drying everything off.)
She had a very specific destination, so I know that this was part of her plan even though she claimed to be all bent out of shape about how behind she was.(Thanks to the MonkeyGirl, I got introduced to Home Goods years back. I was able to keep it a secret from Carole only until the Marshall’s at The Mills became a mega-store. Then I was sunk.)
All in all, it was a good outing for me. I snagged both a new suit and a pair of jeans, so not a bad day’s shopping. I don’t generally enjoy clothes shopping (not only because of my difficulty in finding clothes but because I’m just not a fashionista) but I’ve lost 19 pounds since this time last year – more than half of those this summer alone..So that gave me a little inspiration to shop for a ‘size down” again.
What was insane to me was that I didn’t even go to Archiver’s! I made up for it though when we stopped at Joann’s on the way home. I am currently working on Halloween pictures (from 2005, mind you) so I found some cute things to add. I don’t have any Halloween embellishments. *rolling eyes*
I’m going to see if I can’t wrangle a day off this week. (Yes, KayO, so I won’t be at work yet again.) I still have one unscheduled vacation day left and judging from the current forecast, mid-week weather looks a whole lot better than the weekend. I’m not sure if it will work out, but you never know ‘til you try, right? I really need to get this shed done as the projects are starting to line up!
She declared it “too wet” to pull everything out of the shed and continue that effort. (It really wasn’t though. I was all prepared to go out and get started when I finally awoke from my late summer’s nap just after noon. Granted, the earlier rain had wet things down, but the sun came out and was slowly drying everything off.)
She had a very specific destination, so I know that this was part of her plan even though she claimed to be all bent out of shape about how behind she was.(Thanks to the MonkeyGirl, I got introduced to Home Goods years back. I was able to keep it a secret from Carole only until the Marshall’s at The Mills became a mega-store. Then I was sunk.)
All in all, it was a good outing for me. I snagged both a new suit and a pair of jeans, so not a bad day’s shopping. I don’t generally enjoy clothes shopping (not only because of my difficulty in finding clothes but because I’m just not a fashionista) but I’ve lost 19 pounds since this time last year – more than half of those this summer alone..So that gave me a little inspiration to shop for a ‘size down” again.
What was insane to me was that I didn’t even go to Archiver’s! I made up for it though when we stopped at Joann’s on the way home. I am currently working on Halloween pictures (from 2005, mind you) so I found some cute things to add. I don’t have any Halloween embellishments. *rolling eyes*
I’m going to see if I can’t wrangle a day off this week. (Yes, KayO, so I won’t be at work yet again.) I still have one unscheduled vacation day left and judging from the current forecast, mid-week weather looks a whole lot better than the weekend. I’m not sure if it will work out, but you never know ‘til you try, right? I really need to get this shed done as the projects are starting to line up!
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Ahhhhhhh ...
It's convenient to know when you're being kidnapped, and they MonkeyGirl kept me apprised of her progress across the river yesterday. I was even able to delay my kidnapping long enough to get all but one board of the shed interior in place.
So while I was off playing yesterday at the Scrap-a-thon, the mother was painting the interior, so that part of the process is very nearly done. It started raining last night, nothing big but enough to keep things wet, and continues this morning, so guess what? I'm going back to bed. This is the longest consecutive break I have taken since even before my birthday in July. (And that was the last real day-off I'd taken.) I left here and was gone for 12 GLORIOUS hours during which I laughed, danced, laughed, got 15 pages done, and laughed some more.
Thanks again, MG, for forcing my hand. I had an awesome day! It was a perfect opportunity to whet my appetite for Crop Camp, the annual scrapbooking weekend. Which I came home to find a save-the-date email about. I can hardly wait!
I'm feeling a little like a slug, but it is supposed to clear up this afternoon so I'll be busy then. It will be back to the grind tomorrow as work has been brutal in recent weeks (but I'll take busy over bored any day). But for now, Ozzie keeps stretching and giving me that look to say, "are we snugglin' now or what?" Oh yeah, buddy. Oh yeah.
So while I was off playing yesterday at the Scrap-a-thon, the mother was painting the interior, so that part of the process is very nearly done. It started raining last night, nothing big but enough to keep things wet, and continues this morning, so guess what? I'm going back to bed. This is the longest consecutive break I have taken since even before my birthday in July. (And that was the last real day-off I'd taken.) I left here and was gone for 12 GLORIOUS hours during which I laughed, danced, laughed, got 15 pages done, and laughed some more.
Thanks again, MG, for forcing my hand. I had an awesome day! It was a perfect opportunity to whet my appetite for Crop Camp, the annual scrapbooking weekend. Which I came home to find a save-the-date email about. I can hardly wait!
I'm feeling a little like a slug, but it is supposed to clear up this afternoon so I'll be busy then. It will be back to the grind tomorrow as work has been brutal in recent weeks (but I'll take busy over bored any day). But for now, Ozzie keeps stretching and giving me that look to say, "are we snugglin' now or what?" Oh yeah, buddy. Oh yeah.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
The Shocking Incident
Remember that shocking incident I alluded to the other night? Well, I’m being kidnapped on Saturday! But don’t help me. Please. Seriously. Don’t. I received this “ransom note” from MonkeyGirl last week. It read in part:
I know you are on a deadline. I know you desperately want to be finished with your outside work. I know you have been working your tail off for the past couple of months. I know you need - no, you deserve - a break. So I am forcing your hand. I have paid your registration fee for the Scrap-A-Thon on the 6th. I paid for your dinner. You are going. There will be no arguments. … I'm coming to pick you up and I will bring you home. There, I've made the decision for you. It's only one day - and I promise not to nag you about any other crops until it gets cold.
Let me explain for those among you who don’t scrapbook. A crop is a regular get together for scrapbook enthusiasts. It’s a fantastic group activity to generate ideas, share materials and tools, and generally just have a d*mn good time. Some groups meet weekly; ours meets monthly.
But then there’s the occasional “other” event. And that’s what Saturday’s is. Way back in late April or early May, the MonkeyGirl’s company had this same event as a fundraiser for their corporate foundation. It was so successful that they’re doing it again. It’s a scrap-a-thon because it’s essentially a “marathon” crop in that it is going for 12 hours, more than twice the length of the average crop. Now, consider yourself educated on the topic!
And again, please don’t try to rescue me. It’s for my own good. And it’s another one of those times where I have to ponder: How do I warrant friends like this?!
I know you are on a deadline. I know you desperately want to be finished with your outside work. I know you have been working your tail off for the past couple of months. I know you need - no, you deserve - a break. So I am forcing your hand. I have paid your registration fee for the Scrap-A-Thon on the 6th. I paid for your dinner. You are going. There will be no arguments. … I'm coming to pick you up and I will bring you home. There, I've made the decision for you. It's only one day - and I promise not to nag you about any other crops until it gets cold.
Let me explain for those among you who don’t scrapbook. A crop is a regular get together for scrapbook enthusiasts. It’s a fantastic group activity to generate ideas, share materials and tools, and generally just have a d*mn good time. Some groups meet weekly; ours meets monthly.
But then there’s the occasional “other” event. And that’s what Saturday’s is. Way back in late April or early May, the MonkeyGirl’s company had this same event as a fundraiser for their corporate foundation. It was so successful that they’re doing it again. It’s a scrap-a-thon because it’s essentially a “marathon” crop in that it is going for 12 hours, more than twice the length of the average crop. Now, consider yourself educated on the topic!
And again, please don’t try to rescue me. It’s for my own good. And it’s another one of those times where I have to ponder: How do I warrant friends like this?!
The Women
All work and no play made NV intolerably grumpy, incredibly achy, and gloomy about the prospect of returning to the office grind on Wednesday. So bear all of the preceding in mind as you read this post from yesterday!
Because of my dour mood, things affected me much more acutely this morning I guess. It started off with the bus driver. I took a later bus in than usual. I also forgot to get a new bus pass over the weekend, but luckily, I had plenty of change.
I no sooner let go of the last coin than the driver barked: “Where are you going?” Downtown. “Do you need a transfer?” No. As I’m walking away, I’m mumbling You do not want to start with me today, lady. You DO NOT.
She went on to hassle several more commuters, not wanting to take a transfer, making them take their passes out of holders, very rudely telling them "get off here because this was where 75 cents" got them. It was all I could do to stay in my seat and not go slap her. There was no reason to treat people like that. Bitch.
As I was boarding the bus, a gal in her 30s maybe, visibly pregnant, was standing in the back door. She looked like she’d been crying. A very grubby, extremely tattooed man yelled after her and then at her. He got on the bus right after I did.
As I sat down, I noticed the damp T-shirt she was holding to her right cheek. I’m just guessing here, but I believe she’d been hit. She had that look, too. That kicked puppy look that I’ve seen on more than one abused woman’s face. At first she wouldn't talk to him, but as he kept edging closer, she caved. "Baby, I didn't ..." he started to say and she stifled him with a kiss. It was painful to watch. I hoped I was wrong, especially since there’s another generation on the way. It made me sad.
As the bus trundled across the river, I saw a woman APPLYING EYELINER while navigating her SUV. That’s great, honey. Feed the stereotype a little more, why don’t you? (Sorry, ladies, if this fits you. It’s both stupid and selfish to do this.)
Then, as I walked away from my stop, I could hear someone yelling. This wasn’t easy as I had the iPod cranked. (And it was a Sting tune, so hey, don't interrupt!) One of the other passengers was holding a bag, my bag, a bag I’d aimlessly thrown snacks and things into this morning. I’d left it on my seat. I trotted back to grab it and said thanks.
That made me feel better. You’ve got to love nice people.
So, in the course of less than 25 minutes, I’d gone through four different emotions: anger, pity, disgust and gratitude. Made me wonder what the rest of the day would hold.
Luckily, it was a pretty good day. Crazy busy, chaotic, brain-numbingly insane day, but a pretty good one.
Because of my dour mood, things affected me much more acutely this morning I guess. It started off with the bus driver. I took a later bus in than usual. I also forgot to get a new bus pass over the weekend, but luckily, I had plenty of change.
I no sooner let go of the last coin than the driver barked: “Where are you going?” Downtown. “Do you need a transfer?” No. As I’m walking away, I’m mumbling You do not want to start with me today, lady. You DO NOT.
She went on to hassle several more commuters, not wanting to take a transfer, making them take their passes out of holders, very rudely telling them "get off here because this was where 75 cents" got them. It was all I could do to stay in my seat and not go slap her. There was no reason to treat people like that. Bitch.
As I was boarding the bus, a gal in her 30s maybe, visibly pregnant, was standing in the back door. She looked like she’d been crying. A very grubby, extremely tattooed man yelled after her and then at her. He got on the bus right after I did.
As I sat down, I noticed the damp T-shirt she was holding to her right cheek. I’m just guessing here, but I believe she’d been hit. She had that look, too. That kicked puppy look that I’ve seen on more than one abused woman’s face. At first she wouldn't talk to him, but as he kept edging closer, she caved. "Baby, I didn't ..." he started to say and she stifled him with a kiss. It was painful to watch. I hoped I was wrong, especially since there’s another generation on the way. It made me sad.
As the bus trundled across the river, I saw a woman APPLYING EYELINER while navigating her SUV. That’s great, honey. Feed the stereotype a little more, why don’t you? (Sorry, ladies, if this fits you. It’s both stupid and selfish to do this.)
Then, as I walked away from my stop, I could hear someone yelling. This wasn’t easy as I had the iPod cranked. (And it was a Sting tune, so hey, don't interrupt!) One of the other passengers was holding a bag, my bag, a bag I’d aimlessly thrown snacks and things into this morning. I’d left it on my seat. I trotted back to grab it and said thanks.
That made me feel better. You’ve got to love nice people.
So, in the course of less than 25 minutes, I’d gone through four different emotions: anger, pity, disgust and gratitude. Made me wonder what the rest of the day would hold.
Luckily, it was a pretty good day. Crazy busy, chaotic, brain-numbingly insane day, but a pretty good one.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
"Sheddie" Shots
OK. You asked for them. Here they are. But please don’t say that I didn’t warn you: They’re BORING. Boring as hell when you consider some of the creations that populate unclewilco’s site.
Oh. My. God. I am so not worthy of having a shed tour with these folks. In fact, I want Tim’s shed. Who knew there was a blog site devoted to “sheddies?!”
Of course I wasn’t planning to turn my shed into anything other than storage space either. When you have a small house, storage space is at a premium. And I can tell you that taking stuff out over the weekend was a little like experiencing Shriners exiting a Volkswagen. How in the hell did we even get all of it in there to begin with? And, why do we even have some of it? (I did get Carole to part with a few bags of trash and a small pile of usable items – usable by other people – for donation.)
You still have time to back out because here’s where it gets boring. (Especially after seeing unclewilco’s goodies.) First up, the back of the shed. See that dimply area along the left corner of the wall? Those first few boards are the problem area. That’s what prompted this adventure. I was just going to work on the outside.
While the inner wall had been caulked and filled with Great Stuff previously, it was clearly in need of more as witnessed here.
I took care of that first. While that was drying, I started adding a bit of framing and then put up some plywood. The mother is convinced that I’m going to cause the shed to collapse. I think the opposite is true. My goal: Encapsulate the failing surface structure, ideally stopping the deterioration in its tracks and putting in a newer, stronger surface. I put framing only on solid boards and some of the additions are now even helping to support the roof, an area where at least one main board is failing.
While I was working on opposite walls, the mother came along behind me and painted them. Here are some completed walls.
See, I told you it was boring.
Unfortunately, that was as far as the work got yesterday. That’s due in large part to my failure to comprehend geometry and to correctly calculate the angle cuts I needed to make for each of the corners. (Two are up though they are extremely sad, true testaments to my feeble abilities in this area.) My lacking abilities are further challenged by the fact that none of the corners match. Ideally, I should be able to make two patterns with each being a mirror image for the opposite side. Ideally.
Because the shed was damaged during its first year or two (crashed into by a Jeep Cherokee that upended the very corner where the damage is today – it’s a long story) it has never been right. So it took me no less than four tries to get a template I could use to try and modify for each corner’s own quirks. That really slowed work down so we still have the one tiny front wall and the whole BIG back wall to complete.
Between the weather and a shocking event (a future post topic) I’m not sure when I’ll get back to it. And there’s still the outside to do.
On another note, I would be remiss to not mention that today is a very special day. HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my good friend, and heavy hauler CD!!!! Hope you get something extra good for your special day.
Oh. My. God. I am so not worthy of having a shed tour with these folks. In fact, I want Tim’s shed. Who knew there was a blog site devoted to “sheddies?!”
Of course I wasn’t planning to turn my shed into anything other than storage space either. When you have a small house, storage space is at a premium. And I can tell you that taking stuff out over the weekend was a little like experiencing Shriners exiting a Volkswagen. How in the hell did we even get all of it in there to begin with? And, why do we even have some of it? (I did get Carole to part with a few bags of trash and a small pile of usable items – usable by other people – for donation.)
You still have time to back out because here’s where it gets boring. (Especially after seeing unclewilco’s goodies.) First up, the back of the shed. See that dimply area along the left corner of the wall? Those first few boards are the problem area. That’s what prompted this adventure. I was just going to work on the outside.
While the inner wall had been caulked and filled with Great Stuff previously, it was clearly in need of more as witnessed here.
I took care of that first. While that was drying, I started adding a bit of framing and then put up some plywood. The mother is convinced that I’m going to cause the shed to collapse. I think the opposite is true. My goal: Encapsulate the failing surface structure, ideally stopping the deterioration in its tracks and putting in a newer, stronger surface. I put framing only on solid boards and some of the additions are now even helping to support the roof, an area where at least one main board is failing.
While I was working on opposite walls, the mother came along behind me and painted them. Here are some completed walls.
See, I told you it was boring.
Unfortunately, that was as far as the work got yesterday. That’s due in large part to my failure to comprehend geometry and to correctly calculate the angle cuts I needed to make for each of the corners. (Two are up though they are extremely sad, true testaments to my feeble abilities in this area.) My lacking abilities are further challenged by the fact that none of the corners match. Ideally, I should be able to make two patterns with each being a mirror image for the opposite side. Ideally.
Because the shed was damaged during its first year or two (crashed into by a Jeep Cherokee that upended the very corner where the damage is today – it’s a long story) it has never been right. So it took me no less than four tries to get a template I could use to try and modify for each corner’s own quirks. That really slowed work down so we still have the one tiny front wall and the whole BIG back wall to complete.
Between the weather and a shocking event (a future post topic) I’m not sure when I’ll get back to it. And there’s still the outside to do.
On another note, I would be remiss to not mention that today is a very special day. HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my good friend, and heavy hauler CD!!!! Hope you get something extra good for your special day.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Ladybird vs. Skeptical Men at Home Depot
I'm online for a few days only long enough to keep my faithful updated and what happens? A whole bunch of new folks appear and leave comments! I LOVE IT.
If you've been reading, you know that the past four days have been jam-packed with activity. The walkway was FINALLY finished. And it's been the source of much attention. People are literally stopping out front. (Doesn't sound too incredible unless you know that I live on a pretty busy four-lane road.) All of the neighbors in our block have been here the past few days. This includes Son of Lawnmower Man, but that's for a future post.
I was tired two days ago. Tonight, I'm past any adjective to describe how worn out I am. And there's been a lot of consternation today. As I was finally hitting stride, Mother Nature put the kibosh on the shed-pimping project. Late in the afternoon, there were a series of brief showers followed by one good downpour. And with rain in the forecast the next few days, we just put everything back inside. (It was hotter than hell today and inside the shed, even with a box fan on, was unbearable.)
This morning, I went to get some boards for framing on the interior to finish it out. I bought a bunch of 8-foot 1x2s, some new trim, and a 12-foot Never Rot board. There were two cars whose passengers were locked in discussion when I emerged with my purchase.
As I unlocked the car and started to load up, a voice behind me said: "You're never going to get those boards in that car." I turned around to see five pairs of male eyes upon me.
Now I'm an old pro at getting Ladybird to function like a truck. I've hauled unimaginable amounts of stuff, and the comment rankled me. I love a challenge though. Truth be told, I knew the 8-footers would be no problem. Just a little patience and careful movements was all. The Never Rot board, though. Now that was a seecheation. I was a little dubious myself.
But then I heard the voice of Ruth from Fried Green Tomatoes in my head: "Don't you ever say never to me." And I knew I could pull it off.
I tried to get that 12-footer in the car, but even with some considerable give it would not go. I could hear snickering from the band of dudes. So, I opened the trunk. "You'll have an awful lot of board sticking out."
It took some careful maneuvering, essentially coiling it inside the trunk. The snickers almost immediately stopped. As I closed the trunk, I said: "There doesn't seem to be any of it hanging out." The snickers turned to applause. And instead of heckling me, the other guys were heckling their own.
I spun around and gave a quick bow and dropped behind the wheel. I grinned and gave a parting nod to the tiny crowd as I left. Don't you ever say never to me, boys.
If you've been reading, you know that the past four days have been jam-packed with activity. The walkway was FINALLY finished. And it's been the source of much attention. People are literally stopping out front. (Doesn't sound too incredible unless you know that I live on a pretty busy four-lane road.) All of the neighbors in our block have been here the past few days. This includes Son of Lawnmower Man, but that's for a future post.
I was tired two days ago. Tonight, I'm past any adjective to describe how worn out I am. And there's been a lot of consternation today. As I was finally hitting stride, Mother Nature put the kibosh on the shed-pimping project. Late in the afternoon, there were a series of brief showers followed by one good downpour. And with rain in the forecast the next few days, we just put everything back inside. (It was hotter than hell today and inside the shed, even with a box fan on, was unbearable.)
This morning, I went to get some boards for framing on the interior to finish it out. I bought a bunch of 8-foot 1x2s, some new trim, and a 12-foot Never Rot board. There were two cars whose passengers were locked in discussion when I emerged with my purchase.
As I unlocked the car and started to load up, a voice behind me said: "You're never going to get those boards in that car." I turned around to see five pairs of male eyes upon me.
Now I'm an old pro at getting Ladybird to function like a truck. I've hauled unimaginable amounts of stuff, and the comment rankled me. I love a challenge though. Truth be told, I knew the 8-footers would be no problem. Just a little patience and careful movements was all. The Never Rot board, though. Now that was a seecheation. I was a little dubious myself.
But then I heard the voice of Ruth from Fried Green Tomatoes in my head: "Don't you ever say never to me." And I knew I could pull it off.
I tried to get that 12-footer in the car, but even with some considerable give it would not go. I could hear snickering from the band of dudes. So, I opened the trunk. "You'll have an awful lot of board sticking out."
It took some careful maneuvering, essentially coiling it inside the trunk. The snickers almost immediately stopped. As I closed the trunk, I said: "There doesn't seem to be any of it hanging out." The snickers turned to applause. And instead of heckling me, the other guys were heckling their own.
I spun around and gave a quick bow and dropped behind the wheel. I grinned and gave a parting nod to the tiny crowd as I left. Don't you ever say never to me, boys.
Breakfast Buddies
We have two squirrels who are yard "regulars." They are always eating, playing, or up to some mischief. I call them Zig and Zag.
Yesterday, Zig and Zag were under the tree per usual in the early morning. But when I went out to take photos of the walkway, either Zig or Zag had found a new friend. I thought they were too cute to pass up.
Now I'm off to The Home Depot for more fun as the Pimp My Shed adventure continues ...
Monday, September 1, 2008
Pimp My Shed
Greetings, everyone. Welcome back to This D*mn House. We have a particularly interesting announcement. For the next few days, we'll be focusing on spin-off programming with a new, single-season show called "Pimp My Shed." See how a simple, nearly two decade old structure can become almost worthy of living in. Just wait 'til the tax assessor sees it ...
The title is not my own. CD came up with it a few weeks ago during one of our now infamous Lowe's adventures. One part of the shed's back wall is in particularly bad shape. Lean too hard on the outside, and you're liable to fall through. So I bought some no-rot boards and the mother decided to add a piece of lattice. (Not only a nice aesthetic add-on, but both a cost- and time-saving option.)
"Geez, Nik," Says CD. "What are you trying to do? Pimp My Shed?"
And a blog entry title was born.
Here's today's trivia question: How many sheets of 4X8 plywood can you fit into a Thunderbird? If you don't cut it, or cut it in half, the answer: NONE! Cut into thirds and the answer is NINE!
My attention today was to have been turned the outside of the shed. However, after pulling everything out yesterday, it became abundantly clear that the inside needs some serious love if it's going to survive. But, only playing a carpenter at This D*mn House, not really being one, I had to figure out how to rectify it. Especially considering that I don't have the $2,000 to $3,000 it would take to get a new one.
I still have a few more things to buy, but so far the tab for repairs is well under $200.
I have over half of the plywood up inside the shed. I'm adding framing to the existing frame boards and putting up plywood on the inside. Essentially, once inside and out are done, I'll be encasing the whole back of the original shed, and ideally, stopping any further deterioration in its tracks.
But first, I have to go and get some boards. We'll see how that goes.
The title is not my own. CD came up with it a few weeks ago during one of our now infamous Lowe's adventures. One part of the shed's back wall is in particularly bad shape. Lean too hard on the outside, and you're liable to fall through. So I bought some no-rot boards and the mother decided to add a piece of lattice. (Not only a nice aesthetic add-on, but both a cost- and time-saving option.)
"Geez, Nik," Says CD. "What are you trying to do? Pimp My Shed?"
And a blog entry title was born.
Here's today's trivia question: How many sheets of 4X8 plywood can you fit into a Thunderbird? If you don't cut it, or cut it in half, the answer: NONE! Cut into thirds and the answer is NINE!
My attention today was to have been turned the outside of the shed. However, after pulling everything out yesterday, it became abundantly clear that the inside needs some serious love if it's going to survive. But, only playing a carpenter at This D*mn House, not really being one, I had to figure out how to rectify it. Especially considering that I don't have the $2,000 to $3,000 it would take to get a new one.
I still have a few more things to buy, but so far the tab for repairs is well under $200.
I have over half of the plywood up inside the shed. I'm adding framing to the existing frame boards and putting up plywood on the inside. Essentially, once inside and out are done, I'll be encasing the whole back of the original shed, and ideally, stopping any further deterioration in its tracks.
But first, I have to go and get some boards. We'll see how that goes.
Today, I Tap Danced!
And some little old man (not to be confused with Mean Old Man) even saw me! Of course, I didn't see him until I was halfway down. But I kept going anyway.
By the time he got in front of the porch, I had reached the end of the walk and of my silly little attempt at dancing. And no, Why S.? I was not wearing ruby red slippers, though I wished I had! (When it comes to dancing, I am one of those ultra-awkward white people with absolutely no rhythm. Add to that that I am clumsy with a terrible sense of balance and you can imagine the show that any traffic on our four-lane roadway, early on a holiday morning, got.)
"I've been watching you do that," says the little old man, referring to the walkway, not the tap dance. "I decided you could come to my house when you're done. When can you start?"
We laughed and talked a minute about the project with him first saying he'd thought about doing it himself and ending with, "Maybe I'll hire it done."
But I digress. (But I can, 'cause it's my blog!) OK. OK. Without further ado, here are the photos I promised. Drumroll please ...
Is it perfect? Hardly. Are there some things that I still need to do? Definitely! But even those tasks don't overshadow my feeling of satisfaction. And as I sit here with the MDA telethon on, I will not complain about my aches and pains. I will instead be thankful that I am capable of having them.
Then, I'll ignore them completely and move on to the shed ...
By the time he got in front of the porch, I had reached the end of the walk and of my silly little attempt at dancing. And no, Why S.? I was not wearing ruby red slippers, though I wished I had! (When it comes to dancing, I am one of those ultra-awkward white people with absolutely no rhythm. Add to that that I am clumsy with a terrible sense of balance and you can imagine the show that any traffic on our four-lane roadway, early on a holiday morning, got.)
"I've been watching you do that," says the little old man, referring to the walkway, not the tap dance. "I decided you could come to my house when you're done. When can you start?"
We laughed and talked a minute about the project with him first saying he'd thought about doing it himself and ending with, "Maybe I'll hire it done."
But I digress. (But I can, 'cause it's my blog!) OK. OK. Without further ado, here are the photos I promised. Drumroll please ...
Is it perfect? Hardly. Are there some things that I still need to do? Definitely! But even those tasks don't overshadow my feeling of satisfaction. And as I sit here with the MDA telethon on, I will not complain about my aches and pains. I will instead be thankful that I am capable of having them.
Then, I'll ignore them completely and move on to the shed ...
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Too Tired To Tap Dance
I've waited for this day for weeks ... and now that it's here, I'm too tired to tap dance.
In short -- or in long, as happens to be the case with the walkway project -- the damn thing is DONE!!! I didn't get to do my long awaited tap dance ... yet. I didn't get the last bricks in place until after 5 (and a frantic trip uptown to Ace for more mortar). By the time I got the joints filled and the bricks watered down, it was nearly 7.
And of course during those two hours there were visits from ALL the neighbors. Both on each side, and even the two across the street. Oh, and I neglect to mention that the mother started cleaning out the shed this afternoon. That occasionally slowed me since I went and helped heft the heavy stuff. And it also uncovered more of a project than I expected as if the shed is going to survive another season or two, it needs some serious love. I guess that's on tomorrow's roster.
So, it was long after dark before I got back in the house.
And I'm sorry to report -- and equally sorry to disappoint -- but no pictures. By the time I'd have had a chance to even get the camera, the sun was already down and the last of the light was fading fast. With the walkway still drying, I also have my sawhorses at the already dry part and at the still-drying end to keep any wandering feet away.
But you know, in the morning, the walkway should be dry. And assuming that I can get out of bed, I owe myself a tapdance.
In short -- or in long, as happens to be the case with the walkway project -- the damn thing is DONE!!! I didn't get to do my long awaited tap dance ... yet. I didn't get the last bricks in place until after 5 (and a frantic trip uptown to Ace for more mortar). By the time I got the joints filled and the bricks watered down, it was nearly 7.
And of course during those two hours there were visits from ALL the neighbors. Both on each side, and even the two across the street. Oh, and I neglect to mention that the mother started cleaning out the shed this afternoon. That occasionally slowed me since I went and helped heft the heavy stuff. And it also uncovered more of a project than I expected as if the shed is going to survive another season or two, it needs some serious love. I guess that's on tomorrow's roster.
So, it was long after dark before I got back in the house.
And I'm sorry to report -- and equally sorry to disappoint -- but no pictures. By the time I'd have had a chance to even get the camera, the sun was already down and the last of the light was fading fast. With the walkway still drying, I also have my sawhorses at the already dry part and at the still-drying end to keep any wandering feet away.
But you know, in the morning, the walkway should be dry. And assuming that I can get out of bed, I owe myself a tapdance.
The Home Stretch
There's nothing to go out on the walkway and uncover this morning. I threw the plastic away yesterday! While I didn't get finished, I'm in the home stretch.
I didn't get as many bricks down as I would have liked but even as slow as I was moving (the week at work caught up with me and I was seriously short on steam), I forged ahead. This is all that's left! And ALL of the digging that I loathe so much is done. I have a single landscape form to cut and put in place and I've already started to put down rock.
I actually ran out of rock -- again. I swear to God there's a quarry out there! So after mowing the front yard, unloading 10 bags at the dump and grabbing a much-needed shower, I went to The Home Depot. Can you believe these people?! They had the 50-pound bags of gravel on an OVERHEAD shelf! Not sure how I managed it, but I got down what I needed and got it home. It's still in the car trunk waiting to be unloaded.
The mother stewed all day yesterday, but seemed a bit calmer last night. She was even picking on me as I relayed my plans to: 1) mow and visit the dump, 2)finish digging out the last third, 3)cut and get the landscape forms in place, 4) lay down rock and finally, 5) get down as many bricks as I could. (I had finally admitted to myself around 4 yesterday that I wouldn't get finished.)
After I relayed my list of planned activity, she says: "So when's the funeral?" When I was still toiling away at 7:30 last night, she was running around putting things away and cleaning stuff up. I had hoped to have the landscape form cut last night, but didn't make it so I literally was outside until dark. "It's time to quit," she bellowed from the front door.
Yes. It. Is. Today is it, I tell you. Today. This project ends today. I've had it and it needs to be over. So, look out walkway. There will be tap dancin' yet ...
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Just Disgusted
It’s a bright, sunshiny day and my bricks await me. I welcome their comfort.
The mother has become a militant in light of yesterday’s events. God help anyone who gets into This D*mn House uninvited.
Last night, she was pacing, chain-smoking, and on some kind of guard duty. (She was out “patrolling” shortly before I turned in at midnight.) Every window is open, the shades rolled to the top. Last night, the lights were so bright I almost feel like I need shades. The car is parked out front, in full view of two windows. I have to move it so I can work on my walkway.
It’s highly irregular. It’s never this way – except for the chain-smoking. It’s been very frustrating because the police don’t care. Even the neighbors don’t seem to care. They will though, if it happens to them.
Unfortunately, that’s not even the worst of it. I feel lucky and grateful. No one was hurt. Nothing was taken, nor was anything really damaged. (One cassette and some paperwork were thrown in the yard as the thugs departed.)
Meanwhile, not 15 miles away, and roughly 8 or so hours before this was going on at my house, my MEF MonkeyGirl was dealing with the aftermath of her stepson having been robbed at gunpoint. He was walking home from a local park at dusk. Luckily, he was OK. (A young girl was shot in a similar incident about a month ago in this general area.)
I know some of you housebloggers know exactly what I'm experiencing as your homes were robbed. (That happened at our old house in 1985. The house went on the market the next day.) This time, nothing was really done at my house except having our security and well-being shaken. But that’s enough to p*ss me off.
Yesterday, I was unnerved. Today, I’m mad.
It makes me madder that in both cases, these are kids. Kids. Like MonkeyGirl, I’m wondering where in the hell are the parents and what kind of values are they instilling – or not – in them? I know kids do all kinds of things they aren’t supposed to and it’s a contest sometimes to see just how much you can get away with. I was one once and I did my share of things I shouldn’t have. But nothing like this.
I’m hoping that this was just an isolated incident, and whomever it was saw there was nothing here to their liking and have moved on.
I’m sincerely hoping that, as the Bible says, “ This too, shall pass.”
The mother has become a militant in light of yesterday’s events. God help anyone who gets into This D*mn House uninvited.
Last night, she was pacing, chain-smoking, and on some kind of guard duty. (She was out “patrolling” shortly before I turned in at midnight.) Every window is open, the shades rolled to the top. Last night, the lights were so bright I almost feel like I need shades. The car is parked out front, in full view of two windows. I have to move it so I can work on my walkway.
It’s highly irregular. It’s never this way – except for the chain-smoking. It’s been very frustrating because the police don’t care. Even the neighbors don’t seem to care. They will though, if it happens to them.
Unfortunately, that’s not even the worst of it. I feel lucky and grateful. No one was hurt. Nothing was taken, nor was anything really damaged. (One cassette and some paperwork were thrown in the yard as the thugs departed.)
Meanwhile, not 15 miles away, and roughly 8 or so hours before this was going on at my house, my MEF MonkeyGirl was dealing with the aftermath of her stepson having been robbed at gunpoint. He was walking home from a local park at dusk. Luckily, he was OK. (A young girl was shot in a similar incident about a month ago in this general area.)
I know some of you housebloggers know exactly what I'm experiencing as your homes were robbed. (That happened at our old house in 1985. The house went on the market the next day.) This time, nothing was really done at my house except having our security and well-being shaken. But that’s enough to p*ss me off.
Yesterday, I was unnerved. Today, I’m mad.
It makes me madder that in both cases, these are kids. Kids. Like MonkeyGirl, I’m wondering where in the hell are the parents and what kind of values are they instilling – or not – in them? I know kids do all kinds of things they aren’t supposed to and it’s a contest sometimes to see just how much you can get away with. I was one once and I did my share of things I shouldn’t have. But nothing like this.
I’m hoping that this was just an isolated incident, and whomever it was saw there was nothing here to their liking and have moved on.
I’m sincerely hoping that, as the Bible says, “ This too, shall pass.”
Friday, August 29, 2008
It’s All About the Bricks
I couldn’t stand it. The image of sitting and then walking among all those piles and stacks of bricks – from my dream last night – stayed with me all morning. At lunch, I did a few searches on the interpretation of dreams involving bricks. This is what I found:
But the more I thought about it, the most reasonable explanation of all came out of my mouth earlier today. This has been an exceptionally crazy week. Multiple projects and dealing with multiple colleagues and clients.
While I welcome all the new opportunities and love the prospect of being busy, I’ve gone from almost virtual isolation in my work to being thrown into dealing with hordes of people -- constantly. It’s been a little bit of culture shock for me.
My comment: “After this week, I just want to go back to my bricks.”
And I will. Very soon.
- A brick, wall of brick or stack of bricks symbolize that your soul is restless with unfinished work in your everyday life. That seems logical enough. My house and yard have been a shambles for months and work has been incessantly crazy the past few weeks.
- To see a brick in your dream, represents your individual ideas and thoughts. Experience and/or heartbreak may have hardened you. Well, um, yeah. But I’m not so sure that’s a bad thing. Let’s just say I put up with a lot less sh*t than I used to.
- To dream about brick; good health. Now that sounds promising!
- Brick in a dream, indicates unsettled business and disagreements in love affairs. Really? Well, there is at least one that was never concluded to my satisfaction. And I did have occasion to discuss He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named recently, though I derived a great sense of vindication from this talk …
But the more I thought about it, the most reasonable explanation of all came out of my mouth earlier today. This has been an exceptionally crazy week. Multiple projects and dealing with multiple colleagues and clients.
While I welcome all the new opportunities and love the prospect of being busy, I’ve gone from almost virtual isolation in my work to being thrown into dealing with hordes of people -- constantly. It’s been a little bit of culture shock for me.
My comment: “After this week, I just want to go back to my bricks.”
And I will. Very soon.
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