Screen Porch Installed, Builder Weeps With Joy.

I woke up on Thursday morning, looked out the window and saw a familiar truck parked in my driveway.  A truck that was a fixture around this place for over a year.  A truck that I used to tuck little envelopes inside of, under a spare pair of pliers or a hammer so that it wouldn't blow away.  Envelopes with checks inside to pay the owner of this truck for all of his hard work. 

Because this truck belongs to the man who built our house.  

When I saw that truck, I threw some clothes on and rushed downstairs to snap a few photos.  I had to take the photos quickly,  because I was not going to be able to hound them all day long with my camera as I now have a job.  When I told our builder, Dennis and his crew that I would not be able to take pictures of them working on the house all day long, they just sat down on the grass and started sobbing.  

I had no idea that my taking pictures of these men working on my house meant so much to them!  

Okay - actually that is not true.  Actually, when I told Dennis and his crew that I would not be able to hang around them all day long taking pictures while they worked and ask stupid questions about what they were doing and why they were doing it and how they were doing it, and what they were going to do next... and  oh dear!!! if you don't mind...  I would like to change everything you just did... etc...etc...  

When I told them I wouldn't be able to hang out with them all day long... they all got tiny little smiles on their faces.  

Yes... tiny little secret smiles and I could kinda tell that on the inside they were dancing an Irish jig and hoisting massive mugs of frothy brew above their heads and tossing nearby barmaids into the air, and catching them and then dancing a Russian jig while balancing a shot of vodka on their heads and then tossing a Siberian husky into the air and catching it and hugging it tightly and then...  Okay - well maybe the whole Siberian Husky thing is a bit much...  but I don't think they were very disappointed when I told them that I was not going to be able to document their every move.

  

I am pretty sure they were not disappointed at all.

 

Not even a teensy bit.  

But I was...  

Look -  Jordan grew a beard over the winter!  

Anyway... what I mean to say is that they spent Wednesday installing the screens on our screen porch and giving the front porch one final coat of paint.  It was so nice to see them.  I am so glad that Dennis and Jordan built our home.  Even if I did torment them the entire year they were building it, by being a constant nuisance with my camera, and my changes, and my questions.  

They tolerated it amazingly well.  

Dennis keeps talking about retirement.  He seems to talk about it particularly a lot whenever I am around.  But in my dreams, the Country Doctor and I build another house about fifteen years from now.  A much smaller, much more affordable house. 

 And how could anyone except Dennis build it???

Dennis?

Dennis???

Who's up for another construction project being blogged!?!?!  

Raise your hand!  

I think that counts as a hand raising. Yes... I think it does.

They finished before I got home.  I didn't even get to say goodbye!  But I did get the address of the new house they are working on now.  Moohahahahahahah.  Moooohahahahahaha!!!

Men At Work

The foundation for our house was dug in early September. After years of dreaming, planning, and drawing hundreds of houseplans, we had a hole in the ground. I drove out to the site one hot afternoon as a work crew was setting up the forms to pour the basement.

Three pick up trucks were parked around the building site but there were no workmen around. I decided that they must have all gone to lunch in one truck as I got out of the van with my four year old son. My son scurried up one of the big dirt piles as I slowly walked around the foundation snapping pictures. As I approached the back of the hole I noticed some boots beside one of the trucks. Wait, those were not just boots, there were also legs...attached to the body of a ...man! No wait - two men. Two men were lying down in the shade under the truck taking their lunch break. I was a little surprised to find them there, but tried to pretend that I had known they were there all along. I nodded and smiled at them and continued to circle the foundation taking pictures.

As I rounded another corner my perspective on the basement changed and I saw another man stretched out in the shade at the bottom of the hole. He had long flowing white hair and looked sort of like a wizard in jeans in a t-shirt. I waved at him and tried to remember if when I got out of the van I was picking my nose or talking to myself - because I was so sure that no one was there. As I completed my walk around the foundation I suddenly noticed another man quietly sitting in one of the trucks with a cold drink. He raised his hand in a slight wave. I slight-waved back.

It was odd how the men were separated from each other and so quiet. I suppose it was just a way to have an efficient break maximizing your rest without having to go somewhere for lunch. The silence was pronounced, but they didn't seem like the kind of men that would be chatty under any circumstances. The strangest part however was not the quiet or the odd places they seemed to be in (under the truck?), or even the wizardy appearance of the guy in the hole, but rather how I felt suddenly disassociated with my own house. I mean I had planned, and drawn, and sketched, and sharpened pencils, and learned to draw elevations, and read books, and articles, and clipped magazine pictures and figured out a virtual reality architecture program, and measured staircases, and ceiling heights and porch depths, and taken pictures of every old house that turned my fancy to get to the point of actually building a house. And now walking the perimeter of the foundation of my dreams there are suddenly four strange men involved.

Four strange men I have never seen before. Four strange men I do not even know their names. Four strange men hired by our general contractor to build the foundation of our house. And suddenly I feel like I am a trespasser. I feel like an intruder. An intruder in my own dream.

The men were just men - hard working men on their lunch break. It was not their job to shake my hand or tell me that my foundation was the most spectacular foundation they had ever had the privilege to work on. And it was not really my job to shake their hands or critique their work or ask a bunch of questions since I had no idea what to ask and I know nothing about building a foundation. So instead I climbed the dirt pile with my son and looked at the hole some more and snapped a few more pictures. I was trying to make myself feel like this was my building site and this would be my house and I had every right to be here. But I didn't. I felt like an outsider. So I loaded up my son and we drove home. Later that evening I crept back out to the site and walked around again. This time I was really alone and the house felt like mine again.

The Road to a New House

This is a picture of the driveway that leads to our house. As you can see it goes over the dam that created our pond. This driveway was a long way coming and somewhat of a sticking point. Before we could build a house, we had to decide where to put the house. We had eight acres to choose from, but there were really only two spots that made sense. One was in front of the pond and one was behind the pond.

The type of house we wanted to build included an expansive wrap around porch, and it seemed clear that it would be nice to sit on the porch and look at the pond. However, building behind the pond required quite a bit more expense including building a dam that was large enough for a driveway, and longer electric and water lines. We actually gave up the idea of building behind the pond for these reasons and I designed a house to build in front of the pond. But it just was not the kind of house we wanted. Why bother constructing a beautiful deep covered porch to overlook a road, when you could overlook a pond.

Finally we gave into the ancient architectural theory of chi, which demands that the mountains be at your back and that you face the water. We moved the building site behind the pond, re-drew the house to fit the new site and bit the bullet on the extra money. It is easily the smartest decision we made as the house is so beautifully sited, reflecting on the water, with a treeline at the back and a few trees framing the house as you look at it from the road. Trust the ancients. They knew what they were talking about.

Farmhouse Under Construction

Click on photo to view more construction photos

I was in the process of hanging some insulation when suddenly.....

I was in the process of hanging some insulation, when I noticed how quiet the work site was. This was somewhat disturbing because seven boys were playing on the site, my four and three friends. However, I figured what's the worst thing that could happen... at a construction site... with a pond... and the neighbors pond... Then I heard the piercing wail.

I met Jack the youngest outside. This is what he looked like...


He was upset because his shirt had some mud on it, and he was pouring the blame on his brethern. I turned the corner and this is what I saw...












And this...









Show me some muscles mud boys!

Bagels Anyone...? Uh... er... Bagels...?

So I decided that I would make some brownies for Dennis and the boys. But I am not very good at things like baking food for people and then giving it to them. It makes me feel conspicuous. Plus, it makes me feel like I am a caricature of myself. Like I am this stay at home mom that actually does the appropriate stay at home mom things like bake brownies for people. And yeah sometimes I do bake brownies, but usually I eat most of them myself. Anyway - I was struggling with the concept. I was imagining this scene

Me - Er Uh Um yeah so Hi Guys...

Them - Hello (bang bang bang - hammers)

Me - uh well er um I well

Them - sweeeeeeeeeee bang bang bang (hammers and saw)

Me - I made you some brownies

Them - Bang Bang bang Sweeeeee, ca chunk ca chuck (hammers, saws, nail gun) WHAT?

Me - I made you some brownies.

Them - Ca chunk ca chunk sweeeeeeee, bang bang WHAT!

Me - (sudden silence) BROWNIES!

I knew it would be very awkward mostly because I am very awkward.

However, I tried it a few times and it worked out okay - but it had been a while. So I was in Manhattan and was driving by Panera and I thought how about some bagels for the guys? So I stopped and got a dozen bagels.

As I approached the house I was suddenly caught up in a gale of anxiety that went something like this...

Me - How in the world am I going to give these guys bagels?

Me - They probably don't even like bagels.

Me - They probably think bagels are sissy girl food.

Me - Heck - they probably have never seen a bagel and will think I am giving them weird tasting donuts.

When I got to the house, I had a some stuff to unload. I started with the light fixtures, carrying them down to the basement. Then I unloaded the stuff I had cleaned out from our closets to make our house more presentable to sell. Finally I could put it off no longer. The guys were working on the second floor, and I was a mess of nerves. All I could do was tiptoe in and leave the box of bagels on the saw horses in the great room. Then I fled.

That evening I came back to the house because I love to walk through the house when no one is there. I noticed the box of bagels was still on the saw horses. I looked inside and not one bagel had been touched. I fished out a chocolate bagel for myself, worried a bit about the cream cheese sitting out all night. But it was still pretty cold out, so I figured it would be okay. Then I put the bagels on the fire place which is a bit more prominent spot and left.

The next day I went out in the evening and the bagels were still on the fireplace, untouched. Clearly, they had either been rejected as sissy food or as food that the builders weren't sure they were supposed to eat - since I did such a bad job of giving it to them. I took the bagels home and threw them away. Later that week I made a batch of brownies. The builders were grateful for them and ate every last one.

Insulation Bomb

Well I have some rather bad news to report.

Last night I visited the work site and saw something horrible.

It appears that some type of newspaper bomb went off in our house.



Shredded newspaper seems to have exploded in every room in the house!






Actually - this stuff is insulation, but it sure made a mess!






Hoses blow this stuff in and thankfully will suck it back out when they are finished.


One step closer to sheet rock and then paint and then floors and then cabinets and then trim and then plumbing and then appliances and then furniture and then HOUSE!

Notes on a House

The country doctor grew up in the house his grandfather built. His own parents did a lot of remodeling on that same house over the years. As they worked on it, I have heard stories of how they uncovered notations left by my husband's grandfather.




Dennis, our builder also does a lot of figuring right on the bones of the house.






Here are a few notations he has left behind.

Here lady... let me draw you a little picture...

There have been several occasions during the construction of our farmhouse, that various men have made drawings for me. It is always a man, and it is always a very little drawing. Usually on a tiny scrap of paper.

They use these drawings as tools to try and explain some construction method to me, so that I can then use this wee little drawing to make a decision on some element of the house.

When I was trying to pick out our windows, a man, at the local lumber yard grabbed the pencil tucked behind his ear and drew something to explain something or other about how the window sat in the framing.

On numerous occasions, our general contractor has drawn a sketch for me on the side of the house or on a spare board, to try and show me how the siding or the window trim was going to look.



Even the cabinet maker has occasionally sketched a little something to try and make me understand how a certain corner cabinet might be affected by the cabinet next to it and why I might not want to put a drawer in that particular space.

All of these men are knowledgeable, hard working, decent people. I trust them with my house and my cabinets and my windows. I know they have skills and tools and abilities. But I could never understand a single one of their drawings.

I pretended that I could. I nodded my head and said "Oh!" or "I get it!" or "Yes, I understand now..." But it was a bald faced lie.

They may as well have been drawing pictures of a rocket launcher, for all the sense it made to me.

Construction Terms I Have Learnt

Ridge Beam - The one at the very very top


Header - The wide board above the doors and the windows.


Purlins - The horizontal wood pieces on the trusses.



Joist - The heavy duty wood boards that support the floor


Riser - The "up" part of the stair



Tread - The "step" part of the stair



Gypsum - Also known as sheet rock - but saying gypsum makes you sound smart.



Friese Board - The trim piece that outlines the gable


Rafter - Old school roof construction. Like they made back in pioneer times. They built the roof on our house this way cause it was so dad blamed steep.



Truss - Factory made roof parts ordered and delivered to the site. The barn roof is constructed of trusses. We designed half of the trusses in a traditional manner and half we designed to house a loft, up under that there barn roof.

Sheet Rock

The sheet rock is going up, very slowly. But I have gotten used to the slow building pace. There are even some good things to be said about slow building. You can make changes and it is no big deal. You can move outlets from one side of the house to the other. You could even re-wire and or re-plumb the ENTIRE house. There is never really a rush. You also get to know the men working on your house.

Out here in these parts we don't have many big sheet rock crews, roofing crews, or electric crews - and our contractor seems to prefer the single man operation when subcontracting out jobs. So these various subcontractors are around for several days to weeks, depending on the task, and you get to know them. There are certain advantages to this. They can't get really angry with you for asking them to move that light fixture just a little more to the right - and then the next day maybe just seven more inches to the right and then the next day. I think I liked it better in the first location... if they know they have to see you the next day and the next day and the next day. You learn to get along.

The country doctor and I were visiting the work site together and the builders and the electrician were taking their morning break with a box of donuts and coffee. They were talking about sheet rockers and how difficult their job is. Lifting the 9' X 4' sheets overhead and holding them in place, while screwing it in - even with the proper tools this is a back breaking job.

The country doctor mentioned that he takes care of a few men who have bad backs, bad ankles, spongy knees, crackly hips, elbow no bendo, necks that have gone soggy, and fingers that hang uselessly from their hands. He asks them what they do for a living.

"Sheetrock".

Then Larry the electrician piped up. He said that he knew of a small wiry fellow who amazed him with his ability to lift the heavy boards of sheet rock and install it. One day he asked the man how he did it? The man replied...

"Sometimes I fill my shorts with blood."

And so with that bit of wisdom , the coffee break came to an end.

Countdown to Move In

Oh Dear - I am afraid that the next few weeks are going to be a hectic spasm of activity. Here is what has to be done before we move in on July 1.

1. Paint all interior walls three times (one coat primer, two coats color) - this is my job, I primed the upstairs this weekend.

2. Paint all ceilings - Dennis and Jordan's job.

3. Drag reluctant tile contractor by his throat to the house and get him to install a tile floor in at least ONE bathroom, so we can have a functioning bathroom when we move in. I feel certain I am going to have to stand over him with a hack saw and a gleam in my eye until he is done.

4. Install wood floors throughout entire main floor (Country Doctor's job)

5. Move contents of current house to new house. (all warm bodies in family will work on this).

6. Have lateral field installed and hooked to house so that we can flush.

7. Hang light fixtures

8. Install carpet in upstairs bedrooms.


There are many many other things that have to happen before the house in finished - like paint cabinets, install cabinets, tile other bathrooms, trim entire house, install plumbing fixtures, paint and hang doors, etc, etc, etc...but they are not as necessary as the aforementioned items. And even though it is somewhat overwhelming and not likely to work out as I would like, I am looking forward to all of it. I will be happily working in the depths of my house, covered in paint, sweat in my eyes, but a big smile on my face. Very happy to be getting to do something I always dreamed of. I may not see you all as often as I would like, but I will try and update occasionally. Tomorrow please stop by as I will be typing out my grocery list for you.

Soup Door

Okay - you want to impress a contractor? Next time you build a house, ask for a soup door. Then step back and watch the new found respect dawn on his face.



A soup door is a factory second, something went wrong, so the door is sold as a "soup door" and contractors use them as temps until the construction work is done.

The door in this picture is a soup door. It even says "Soup" on it. When I first saw it, I thought, that sure is strange graffiti. I mean if you are going to scribble a word on a door, deface property, vandalize - why write write "soup?" It puzzled me for a long time. Then Dennis, our contractor explained.

I know a few of you have been worried about that door. Thinking, why is that door there? Surely that is not their door. Surely they realize that door is not really right. I know you have. I just KNOW!

And you are correct. It is our soup door. The real door is coming...sometime...hopefully...soon

Hive of Activity

Our general contractor Dennis, arrives at 7 am. A time of the day I try to avoid at all costs. He is currently sawing oak boards for trim.



Jordan shows up a few minutes later and gets set up to stain trim in the basement.




Ron, the tile guy shows up around 8 am to start putting our bathroom floors together. Can I hear an Amen!



And the propane company stopped by to deliver a propane tank and dig a trench.





Then there is always this activity. Which goes on night and day without ceasing until they fall into a comatose like state around midnight.



The concrete guy just showed up to pour a foundtion for the A/C. It isn't even 10 am yet. Good Lord!

Paint Update

My entire body is speckled in paint. My shoulders hurt so bad I am in agony just sitting still. My shin splints have come back from climbing up and down the ladder twelve thousand times. I have paint caked in my hair. My eyes have gone twitchy. My fingers are rubbery. My brain is whacked. I have no feeling in my tongue. My eyelashes are falling out. Both of my ears are sagging and my left quadrant exosocometer is drooping out. My toes are bungled. Hydroceph is cockeyed. Nails are grim. Nostrils linty. Overall feeling of please say I never have to pick up a paint brush again.

Unfortunately I am only about... maybe... almost... but not quite... half way there.

If there is a good thing about this hellish predicament I find myself in - of having to paint an entire house - it is that I can drink as much REAL coca cola and eat as much ice cream as I want. Painting burns it all off. Plus, I don't pee anymore. I just sweat. Sweat and sweat and sweat. Or maybe that means my kidneys are shutting down. Add kidneys shutting down or trickleometers broken to above list.

Kitchens Are Overrated

Week two of house with no kitchen and I have learned a few things.

1. It is possible to survive on diet pepsi and powdered donuts for days at a time.

2. All lunchmeat tastes pretty much the same

3. No one will touch the bag of carrots or the chunks of pineapple in the fridge if there is a box of powdered donuts around.

4. Ice Cream sandwiches count for meals

5. I can eat chips and salsa three meals a day and it doesn't seem to bother me

6. I sure don't miss loading and unloading the dishwasher.

7. Sure don't miss kitchen clean-up.

8. I like to cook, but I think I equally like NOT to cook.

9. I have decided to found a movement AGAINST kitchens and FOR laundromats. I can wash and dry SEVEN loads of laundry at the local laundromat in AN HOUR!!!

10. I am calling this new movement Women Against Clean Kitchens of Slavery or WACKOS.

11. Anyone care to join?

Seriously though - think how much money we pour into kitchens and I have come to the conclusion that they are not only unneccesary, but they creat LOADS of work. Sure, I like a home cooked meal. I am just not sure how much anymore. Just a little food for thought. Ha ha ha ha ha. Get it FOOD FOR THOUGHT!!! hardee hardee ha ha. Then again perhaps I am a little malnourished...

Harry and I Face Deathly Hallows Together

The country doctor and I love old houses. And we would have given our eyetooth (whatever that is) to buy one and re-hab it. There were a few stipulations. It had to be in the country but not more than three miles out of town. It had to come with a pond. It had to have a sort of intrinsic charm, but we could handle some re-hab. We wanted neighbors, but not too many and not too close. (This was actually a compromise as the country doctor wanted to live in a commune and I wanted to live in Siberia.) We were looking for a magic place that would beckon to us mystically, as if we belonged to the house and the house belonged to us.

As you can imagine - in five years of looking, we did not find this particular piece of real estate. So we decided to build. Or rather - I spent about a year crying, screaming, pouting, packing a bag and threatening to leave, begging, pleading, and then doing all these things again, only louder and with more tears, until finally the country doctor said - ALRIGHT ALREADY!! let's build a house.

So we did. We went thru the process - drawing plans, finding a builder, siting the house, digging a hole, blah blah blah. The process kept me pretty entertained for the past nine months. And overall, it has been an enjoyable process. But I am not sure I wouldn't scrap it all right this exact moment, for a decent trailer on a lot with some grass. It's starting to get to me. I am staring to feel chunks of my resilience break off and dissolve in a puddle at my feet.

Today I just wanted to read the new Harry Potter book. I just wanted to sit on my couch and read The Deathly Hallows. I mean hey, it is summer and my kids are all entertaining themselves in various ways. Everyone is fed and bathed and wrapped and swaddled and contented. I have no kitchen to clean and no urgent laundry to do. I could sweep or dust, but why? The saw if going to churn up more dust in the next seventeen seconds to make that a completely inane task. Why can't I just lay here and read my book?

Because my house if full of men who are WORKING - and that makes me feel like a worthless slug to lay on my couch and read. I guess I could slink off to my bedroom and read, but then I would feel like a sneaky worthless slug.

But I did it anyway. I sat on the couch and read. Then I started to doze off. SO I reclined on the couch and read. Every time I heard a worker's boots draw near, I pretended to be awake and concentrating, but I was really napping. And no one hurled insults at me or said "Get a JOB!!" or demanded to know why I wasn't painting the millions of things that needed to be painted or pointing out that the clothes in the dryer needed to be folded. And so Harry and I made some progress. In a house full of working men. And so far, we are both still hanging on.

Camp Bathroom

Throughout my childhood summers I spent at least a week or two at various church camps. Later, I worked at a few camps, as both a lifeguard and a counsellor. I think I can safely say I am something of an expert in camp bathrooms.

Camp bathrooms - are well...campy. Bugs, tiny sinks, poorly placed or old useless mirrors, lack of proper outlets, dimly lit, doors that don't lock or "curtains" for doors, or doors that refuse to stay closed unless you elongate yourself to clutch the bottom of door with one had while clutching yourself to the toilet with the other. Or my favorite - no doors.

Camp bathrooms tend to be in bad places - like off in the middle of the woods or a dark rainy jog from the cabin. Or RIGHT OFF the DINING HALL!

One summer, I worked at Camp Soaring Hawk in Purdy Missouri (that's right Purdy). I was using the loo when the male custodian came in to clean. I had to clear my throat and cough to get him out. He felt the need to talk to me through the door and tell me he was sorry and blah blah blah. I just wanted him to leave!

Another time at Kerrville - a famous folk festival in Kerrville, Texas - I opened up a loo only to find a board with six or seven holes running down both sides of a small shed so that the occupants of the various "seats" sat knee to knee AND thigh to thigh as they emptied their various contents.

The first "spot" was occupied by a large scary woman with a cigar and a newspaper. I quickly joined the party, left my deposit, and fled. I found other facilities to use after that!

ANYWAY!! We have four bathrooms in our new house. But the only one that is usable at this point is the basement bathroom. It was quickly assembled by our wise plumber who had a feeling that the other bathrooms would not be ready in time. (We are waiting on tile floors to be finished.) We have no plans to finish our basement bathroom any tme soon - so there are only studs and no walls. Thus we have a usable bathroom with no walls...

Relying on my camp bathroom experience - I built a few flimsy walls.

Hung an inadequate mirror.

Found a shower curtain for a door.

I am so clever!

Thank God I went to camp.

Who knew it would prepare me for the future so well!

Halfway House

We seem to be stuck in this strange in between place. A half finished house. A house with three almost, but not quite, finished rooms. All bedrooms.


A house where the end seems to be in site and yet is not arriving.



I have unpacked everything I can and there are still boxes everywhere full of things I can't unpack because there is no place to put things. No cabinets, no closets, no pantry, no shelves. It is deflating. For three weeks there was so much hub bub. So many spasmodical spasms. Painting and packing and cleaning, and moving, and now there is just wait. Wait wait wait wait. It has made me question the entire project. Why did we do this? Why didn't we just stay in our old house?



I have started to wonder if we could sell this house. Maybe we should buy a house in town. There are a few really neat old houses in town for sale. Houses I would have loved to buy two years ago. One of them is my favorite house in town. And it going up for auction in two weeks. I could move in and put all my stuff away immediately! I wonder if I could sell this house in two weeks?

I mean hey it is 5:20 in the morning and I have been up since 3:20 am. I can't sleep. Surely there is a name for this disorder. Post traumatic construction spastic little miss whiney whine whine seizure disorder.

I just want to make some curtains! And buy a new bedside lamp! I just want to hang some pictures and figure out how to solve the troubling hall paint color.


But I am stuck in this weird purgatory of stuckness. I can not proceed until others proceed. So I linger. Every day fading a little more. Everyday dying a little more. Every day a little less untill...until...untill... Does untill have one "l's" or two?

P.S. please do not try to cheer me up you all too chipper blog readers of the universe. I am happy in my bleakness. I prefer it this way. Bleak is my favorite color. Maybe I should re-paint the hallway in bleak.



A switch from boring to bleak.




I would much rather be bleak than boring.

PPSS

After writing the above post - I wearily climbed the stairs around 6 am to try and go back to sleep for a few hours. It was then I noticed this strange reddish haze coming thru the windows. What in the world...? Aliens? Terrorist attack? Pesticide? Fungicide? Armageddon???



Holy Crap - Sunrise!!! I haven't seen one of these in years. Gosh maybe we should hang around a while. It might be worth the trouble.