Roominations

Sunrise soak / Morning thaw

2012-01-29T08:40:00.000-05:00

We have enjoyed our wooden hot tub since December 2008, but admittedly, not often enough. After a windy night and a long work week, the lure of soothing cedar-scented water helped us overcome the gravitational pull of our comfy couch and large TV. (House Hunters International: "Have we seen Nicaragua?" "Um, yes we have." "France?" "Yup.") The air was still, the lake was frozen and the water was a perfect 98 degrees F. Great setting for a 40-minute soak!

Seductive steam on Saturday morning.

A view across the hot tub to the frozen lake.

Matt watches the sun paint the sky.

Here comes the sun!

Sunday's sunrise reveals a surprise:
The lake has mostly thawed.

The air is above freezing, at 35 degrees F.

A lovely January morning!

Time for breakfast.

And ready for the day and week ahead.

The horrible Asp

2011-12-11T10:42:00.001-05:00

Delightful neighbors; dreaded tree.

Looking down from the front door to the back yard in
July 2006, the thick trunk of the neighbor's tree is on the right.

The sweet, fluffy tree is a River Birch that Matt and I had

planted in honor of our "wood" anniversary in 2001.

The tree drops annoying seeds on our deck. "What the heck are these?" we ask our friends, Karen and George, early in our residency at the lake shack.

With the Asp Tree on the left, here is our

home in February 2007, in all its "before" glory.

"Asp seeds," answers Karen with the definitive air of an expert. So that is why we feel Cleopatra's pain--Casa de Roo is troubled by the horrible asp!

The Asp Tree in June 2007.

In fall, the Asp Tree also covers our deck with leaves.

In August 2007, the tree looms

over our 20 leaky skylights.

And branches.

The Asp as viewed from street.

Then bigger branches.

The Asp Tree as seen from what serves

as the lower deck in February 2008.

This becomes ever more worrying once we begin renovating Casa de Roo.

The house starts taking shape in 2008.

So we make a proposal to our neighbors: "How 'bout we chip in on removing this dying deciduous danger?"

The base of the Asp isn't the only part
showing signs of decay in July 2010.

They say: "We like the shade." We say "FRAK!" (Under our breath, of course.)

Granted, the Asp looks less horrible from a distance...

And so, the horrible Asp continues casting a menacing shadow on our dream house.

February 2011.

I keep a wary eye on our nemesis, never missing an opportunity to shake my fist at its shaky branches. "Aaaaahhhhhhssssssp!"

The moon casts a shadow on just one of
many sticks on the roof on March 19, 2011.

Then, after a dramatic boat ride, Matt and I come home to find that my arboreal ageda has become fully justified.

On July 13, 2011, Matt and I take an after-work cruise.
An unexpected storm--complete with a micro-burst
of wind--yields a rainbow over the community clubhouse.

The sun beckons us home, illuminating
a path directly to our property.

You know that thing? That thing when the air fills with the surprising smell of fresh wood? Well, we experience that thing as we approach our dock.

The Asp drops an enormous branch, thankfully not on
our new porch, but sadly on our beloved anniversary Birch.

Matt doesn't miss a beat. He grabs the nearest saw and gets right to work.

Matt saves the day as our neighbor looks on.

A bird's nest and porcupine-like seeds
are among the broken boughs.

Matt makes a lot of progress during this first
of many branch eradication sessions.

I grab my iPhone and call the neighbor, trying to keep my inner bitch on the inside. Over time, we are in agreement: The tree (which turns out to be a Beech, not an Asp, but is nonetheless horrible) must come down.

A spike remains where the branch used to be.

It does, on August 23, the day of the 5.8 magnitude earthquake that rocks not just folks in my office, but millions of people from Georgia to Canada. Thankfully, when the tremor hits, no one is up in a tree, above my house with a chain saw. Hurricane Irene hits a few days later. Could we have gotten any luckier to be without this tree?

I get home from work on August 23 and--
wow!--an improved view of the lake.

We agree to save money by allowing the service to leave us the the felled tree.

Looking off the deck that evening, I realize I had
underestimated just how much wood there would be.

Our theory? Free fire wood! The neighbors take some logs, too.

An example of the rot eating away at the tree trunk.

The remaining stump of the offending Asp/Beech.

At a big box store to buy an ax, I convince Matt not to purchase the heaviest one so I can help him. Respectfully, he agrees and I look forward to chopping some wood.

At home, he explains the technique, demonstrates it artfully, and I give it several tries. As the blade bounces off the log and back at me for the umpteenth time, Matt wrestles the ax from my still live, warm hands and takes over.

My attempts at swinging this tool effectively
leave me saying: "Vive la difference!"

My enthusiasm for summertime firewood creation diminishes. I figure: "Well, the logs are neatly stacked and out of the way. Maybe, if I ignore them, they will go away."

The October 30 nor'easter adds further
injury to our Asp-abused River Birch.

The nor'easter leaves us without power for four days. We end up buying manufactured and natural logs to keep warm.

Mini Cooper as pick-em-up truck.

I feel silly: We have a lot of wood in our own back yard. It just needs to be transformed!

Matt swings the ax on December 10, moving
with the grace of a major league baseball
player hitting a home run. Log after log shatters.

Then the firewood needs to be carried up to the front of the house. This is my job.

The first set of 30 steps I traverse with load after load of logs.

Matt has two brilliant ideas today:

Build a funicular.
Market a new experiential work-out program. Instead of going to a gym, you come to our house, pay us, and we coach you on chopping, carrying and stacking wood, along with the aerobic benefits of stair climbing.

The second set of steps.

The resulting stack of firewood from three
chopping-schlepping sessions.

The challenge? The remaining logs are ginormous.

And the reward is obvious: a cozy fire on a cold December night.

Super Moon in March

2011-03-27T08:33:00.043-04:00

We catch our first glimpse of the so-called Supermoon after dinner and head home to the deck to do some moon bathing and hanging out. It is a balmy, wonderful night for a moon dance and a couple of drinks. I take my first moon shot at 7:17 p.m. on Friday, March 18.

Supermoon casting super moonshadows around 8 p.m. as our resident skunk, raccoon and muskrat listen to Pink Floyd and forage for food.

Yes, via CD. How old school. But how many of us also have this concept album as a cassette—or even vinyl? We reminisce about the fabulous concert we saw in November at the Meadowlands and look forward to seeing Roger Waters The Wall Live in Europe this summer. So that, my friends, is why we didn't spin the more obvious Pink Floyd choice, Dark Side of the Moon (which we saw three times in concert during 2006-07).

And then the clouds come in at 9:29 p.m., just as The Wall ends... But our night on the deck continues. This is exactly why we did the renovation in exactly the way we did.

I share some of the better Supermoon shots via Facebook and see what my Twitter timeline has so say about the event. Neil deGrasse Tyson (Director of the Hayden Planetarium and a Research Associate in the Department of Astrophysics at the American Museum of Natural History) tries to set the record straight: "Full moon Sat. nite. Rare? Once per month. Moon closer to Earth. Rare? Once per month. Both together? Once every 2 or 3 years... Last time was December 2008." So, not 1993... The truth doesn't reduce the beauty of the still-super-to-me Supmermoon.

I take a Supermoon photograph at 2:40 a.m., enjoying the reflection off the metal roof over the screen porch, and then get back into bed.

Supermoon Part Deux — moon rising over the lake. But brrrrr cold tonight (40 degrees F and falling), so we enjoy the event from the couch.

Bright and beautiful, the moon at 8:08 p.m.

Indulging in ongoing moon watching at 8:59 p.m., I quickly run out on the deck to snap a quick shot of the Supermoon...

...and even more quickly run back into the house to warm myself by the fire as Matt enjoys March Madness. (For me, my husband explains while crumpling up a mysterious bracketology-based piece of paper and tossing it into the blaze, this was a bracket-busting game.)

As with its Friday night predecessor, Supermoon II: The Lovenator is a social media event, as Facebook friends again post and comment on each other's photos.

High in the sky at 11:25 p.m., the moon fills our bedroom with light and draws me momentarily out on the deck.

Still 99 percent visible, the almost-full moon at 2:38 a.m. on Sunday, March 20, completes its trip across the lake and heads for the hills.

Shakira's She Wolf fills my mind: "Nocturnal creatures/Aren't so prudent/The Moon's my teacher/I'm her student."

"Enough lunacy," my shivering skin says, admonishing me for covering it with nothing more than a (super sexy [not!]) flannel nightgown.

As signs of spring, swans glide across the lake on March 20 at 5:36 p.m., the Spring Equinox less than two hours away.

A spring storm dumps more than seven inches of snow on us during Wednesday, March 23, as seen here at 10:48 a.m. as I work (diligently) from home. My "glass half full" side says, "pretty." My glass overflowing with winter weather side says, "enough already!"

What a difference a week makes: Saturday, March 26 at 4:09 a.m. the moon—reflecting off the grill and lake—is in its last quarter (per Moon Calendar site) and the temperature is below freezing.

On the ice

2011-02-27T17:13:00.022-05:00

On Saturday morning, the snow has finally receded enough to give us access to our back yard and the frozen lake. The every-weekend-all-day ice fisherman had already set up his tent, so we figure it is safe enough to go out there ourselves.

Hearing the ice creak and crack beneath him, Matt decides to turn back.

I keep going on the smooth, slick ice: Step-step-slide—step-step-slide—step-step-slide... In the middle of the lake, I take a series of shots to be combined into panorama images…

I’m fascinated like by the patterns in the ice, like snowed-over tracks from cross-country skis and animals.

And cracks…

And ice-over holes…

And trapped leaves (and a feather)…

Coming off the ice, I start laughing upon seeing that Matt has given up his scarf to make Clyde feel cozy.

Then I notice a sure sign of spring!

“Where’s Matt?” I wonder. Then I find—and join him—in the hot tub.

This morning, the ice fisherman is in place before I’m out of bed, joined by a small partner to enjoy what might be the last solid ice of the season.

Fire-n-Ice Romance

2011-02-24T21:09:00.029-05:00

Heading from the street-level parking area down to our happy home, I am enchanted by the glow of candles illuminating my path.

My husband had transformed the remains of several storms into a candelabra, placing votives directly into the snow.

He awaits my arrival by our door. When I walk in, more flames greet me: In the fireplace, on the mantle and the table.

And more ice: In the shaker, from which he pours a cocktail of POM Wonderful juice, Zirco coconut water with pomegranate, L’chaim Kosher Vodka, Peychaud’s bitters (1869 German recipe) and frozen organic berries.

Cheers!

Dinner is ready, too, complete with a salad featuring homemade croutons.

What did I do to deserve this? I’m not sure. But please remind me to keep doing it!

Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear

2010-11-01T21:06:00.029-04:00

Opening one eye, I check the time, 1:30 a.m. “Go back to sleep,” I command myself.

Hating it when somebody tells me what to do, I check again, 1:45 a.m. This goes on in fraction-hour increments until it is finally time to get up, get dressed (I slipped on my official “WristStrong” band to self-identify to the herd) and get on the road. By 5:30 a.m. on Saturday, October 31, we head from New Jersey to the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear in our nation’s capital.

Every time I see happy people in a car, I ask Matt: “Do you think they are going to the rally?” With every traffic jam we hit, I ask: “Could this be because of the rally?” We soon seem to be spectators at a Prius parade combined with a progressive sticker-fun party. “I’ll bet they are all going to the rally,” I say to my good-natured but increasingly weary husband.

At the overly crowded Chesepeake House rest stop in Maryland, I again give credit to the rally. In a long line for the ladies room, we all politely eye each other. “Are you one of us?” Then we hear an announcement that two people are tardy to get on the “white” bus for the Huffington Post (with 200 free buses, they reportedly bring 10,000 people from Manhattan to the event). Vindicated, I grin uncontrollably, a facial expression that sticks with me for most moments of the day.

Heading to the National Mall, we are overwhelmed, nay, shocked by the number of people we see. Well-behaved, normal people. And the people keep coming. And coming.

The crowd continues gathering.

Thanks to Matt’s 6’4” vantage point, well before the noon start time, we find the perfect spot to stand. People politely fill in around us. The ambient sound is pleasant, as though we are at a huge, wonderful restaurant. (Except we didn’t think to bring snacks. Or water.)

Matt is head and shoulders above the rally.

The crowd gets ready.

Although most of the musical numbers are too down-tempo for a rally, it is all pleasant enough. When the sound system cuts out and otherwise fails to reach what seems to be a crowd more than double the expected size, the chant is “Louder! Louder! Louder!”

Through it all, the estimated 215,000 people offer plenty of diversions. One group invites guests to “Jump Rope with a Muslim.” And then there are the signs:

Highlights? Doing the “wave” for science, as directed by Mythbusters Jamie Hyneman and Adam Savage. (We are fans.) Hearing Yusuf sing “Peace Train” (pro-sanity) only to be cut off by Ozzy Ozbourne singing “Crazy Train” (pro-fear) in a duel that is won by the O’Jays singing “Love Train” (compromise).

The Mythbusters warm up the crowd
by telling us to laugh like mad scientists.

Men doing the wave.

There are plenty of laughs, given that the hosts of the rally are Comedy Central’s Jon Stewart of the Daily Show and Stephen Colbert of the Colbert Report (the first “t” is silent). And somehow the rally is about the importance of politics without getting political. (Plenty of well-deserved media-bashing, though.)

But being entertained is, for me, a small part of the point. My goal is to be physically present to show advertisers that there is enough of a market to support programs that have sane, polite, reasoned and reasonable political discourse. Enough with the shouting. The fear mongering. The insanity. Enough!

The rally is over, but the crowd lingers.

The event ends, but many of us hang out. Smile at each other. Pick up trash, thus doing as Jon asks and leaving the Mall in better shape then when we found it. Matt and I walk around. Sit on the lawn for a while. Marvel at the well-behaved crowd. We were among thousands of people all day long and there is no screaming. Just a genial togetherness, one where we acknowledge each others’ presence and respect each others’ space. This is my America!

The polite, delightful crowd continues dispersing.

Has the rally made a difference? Can a rally brought to you by comedians—even very smart comedians—make a difference? I hope so. Even if just to move ad budgets from supporting hate speech to supporting solution-oriented debate and discussion.

And tomorrow, I will vote. Sadly, most of the information readily available to me is in the form of vile political attack ads. Through these spots, I learn one bastard is worse than the bastard who “approved this ad”. My colleague says he yearns for a “none of the above” category, so at least he can be counted as a voter without having to choose the lesser evil.

Perhaps we can rally as a nation and restore sanity in time for the next election.

The White House.

Daisy Allandale

2010-06-20T17:02:00.020-04:00

Prior to renovating our home, we assessed its many problems. For example: “Situated below street level, the house is all curb and no appeal.”

Viewing our home from the street in 2006,
as we begin seriously planning our renovation.

Visitors to Casa de Roo deserve a proper welcome. Once you bravely traverse the steep hill from the parking area, turn, take the steps, turn, go down the ramp, turn, take more steps, turn, walk and turn again, it seems fitting you should feel as though you’ve arrived.

As these pre-renovation shots show,
it is quite a journey to our front door.

The October 2006 “as built” drawings (the only
appropriate set of plans provided by our first architect).

The original entryway is dreary,
dark, depressing and dysfunctional.

So I began searching for the perfect front door. Again and again, the hunt leads me to Europe. (One e-mail exchange even went something like this: Hey, great doors! Can I get one these in New Jersey? / No. Would you like to become our North American distributor? / Thanks for asking. No. Live long and prosper.)

Turning away from Google, I tackle my stack of shelter magazines and in Atomic Ranch find Crestview Doors, a U.S. company selling just what I want.

Picking from the variety of Modern, Post-war and Ranch styles, Matt and I decide on Allandale in a yellow called Daisy, with a sidelight. I work with a member of the Crestview team, Stephanie, and Daisy Allandale is conceived.

By this point, we had walked away from the excruciatingly impractical Dum(b)as(s) architecture firm and hired “The Todd” to execute drawings based on Matt’s vision of “roofing, windows, siding and deck.”

“The Todd” includes Daisy Allandale in
our April 2008 plans. The design calls for covering
a set of windows and moving the door to the left.

Daisy rests in Matt’s dressing room on
June 21, 2008 (left). Finally, in time for
Thanksgiving 2008, our builder puts her in her place.

To protect us from rain and snow, the design
includes a peak over the front door that balances the
larger one over the porch. Both feature “Splat” light
fixtures. The doorbell bling is “De-Light” by Sp0re.

Daisy even looks welcoming at 7:16 a.m. after
Matt does another round of shoveling
thanks to a February 26, 2010, blizzard.

Daisy is ready to receive guests
on Saturday, June 19, 2010.

First image: Henry, our gargoyle, protects the entrance
where Daisy holds court. Pax Drammen featuring Dioder
(left) and a pouf we call Oscar (right) flank the foyer.
Center image: A view of both the foyer and kitchen.
Third image: Looking through the “window”
from the kitchen to the foyer.

Looking through the door all the way into the back
yard (left). Looking out at the bunker-like exterior.

Having a friendly and functional foyer has improved our lives. Daisy Allandale, you had us at “Hello.”

A “psychic link” through Elvis

2010-06-08T21:27:00.012-04:00

It was the late 1980s when the problem started. I was in my early 20s, living in a New York City walk-up apartment, broke, sleeping on a borrowed bed … and yearning for an “important” chair.

Granted, I had no clue why certain designs made my gluteus maximus twitch with desire, sending “I want to sit on THAT” signals to my brain… (Sticker shock would then inspire me to high-tail it out of the store.) Twenty-plus years later, as Matt and I undertook our home renovation, these images were still fresh in my mind.

Trouble was, I’d see a piece I long loved, such as Eero Saarinen’s über-comfortable Womb chair with ottoman (1948), and then I’d see it again. And again and again and again. Open up Dwell magazine: there it is. Open up Atomic Ranch and here it is again. I showed Matt the Womb chair in so many spreads, he hatched a theory: Photographers of midcentury modern interiors brought one to each shoot. (BYOWC?)

We spied a collection of midcentury marvels—including the
Womb chair—at NYC’s House of Futons on May 31, 2010.

This happened over and over. Harry Bertoia’s Diamond Lounge chair (1952), Arne Jacobsen’s Swan chair (1958) and the Ludwig Mies van der Rohe Barcelona® Chair (1929), which I learned had caught my father’s eye as well, and pretty much anything Eames...

Bertoia’s Diamond Lounge chairs,
Live from Lincoln Center, on November 9, 2009.

These designs were so right—so desirable—they were becoming downright ubiquitous. Key pieces are even part of the Miniatures Collection from Vitra.

I admired a collection of miniature chairs
at Minima in Philadelphia on May 5, 2010.

“Isn’t anyone, anywhere, doing something new? Something ‘right now’,” I wondered. “Or, at least, something created after my 1966 birth?”

Yes! They caught my attention as Matt and I took a lunch break in mid-April to scan the web for the right chairs for our screen porch.

Chartreuse. Perfect complement to our parrot green daybed cushions. But it wasn’t just the color that got my heart racing when I saw the Jellyfish House Chair and Ottoman (2003-2005)... It wasn’t just that the proportions perfectly met our needs… Or that the set was designed by Dutch architect Wiel Arets (Amsterdam is a favorite city)... And it certainly wasn’t the name, as jellyfish in the sea scare the hell out of me! No; there was something more... More, even, than the promise that the chair ROCKS “slightly.”

Whatever it was, Matt needed to see this compelling couple. When he loved them, too, two chairs and an ottoman needed to come live at Casa de Roo.

Thus began the odyssey to make them ours. None of the online stores could get our new friends to us before late August. End of summer? If that was the case, we’d place the order in winter.

I was feeling a bit “Veruca Salt.” Instead of going into an “I want it now” tirade, I turned to Google. The objects of our desire are produced by Quinze & Milan, but aren’t available via their online store. When I found an NYC contact on their site, I called and left him a message. Taking a “boot-n-suspenders” approach, I sent an e-mail, too.

“I will NEVER hear from them,” I assured my husband, wondering where I got the ovaries (obviously, I lack the balls) to use contact information aimed at people buying 300+ units, not three.

Luckily, Antoine is a “Crackberry” addict. He responded via e-mail. He called the warehouse in Belgium, but their weekend had already begun. He e-mailed again with more info. Red, yes; green, no. We discussed other color options. By Saturday morning, he’d located exactly what I wanted. By Sunday, I had an invoice and agreed to close the deal. On Tuesday, April 27, I called to follow up and Antoine answered before I heard the phone ring. I identified myself and he noted he had just sent over the instructions for payment; before he finished his sentence, the e-mail hit my inbox.

“Must be a psychic link through Elvis,” I exclaimed, to his amusement. Certainly, we were “meant” to have these chairs. Not only did the design make me tingle, so did the whole buying experience.

Thanks to Antoine diverting our order while at the warehouse in Belgium, our two chairs and ottoman were not on a slow boat to the U.S. with those destined to arrive in about 12 weeks. Nope! My order greeted me when I got home from work on June 3.

Even before I opened the boxes, I was delighted. The packaging was a marketing masterpiece.

Beyond the pictures of their contents, company logo
and “creators of atmosphere” tagline, there were
the shipping instructions, which I interpreted as:
don’t use a box cutter to open, keep dry, fragile,
this end up and be cool like a 70s porn star.

I moved the lightweight pieces into the screen porch just before Matt got home from his softball game. That night, we rocked gently as we listened to bullfrogs sing. Not just easy on the eyes, Jellyfish House Chair and Ottoman are good to the glutes and spine.

Does the void provide a house for jellyfish? Or just the right
visual impact for a room dedicated to enjoying the lake view?

Will Jellyfish become an “important” chair within 50 years? Well, it was already important to me. And, although part of me hopes I do not start seeing it featured in magazine spreads and commercials, the more altruistic sliver of my soul wants everyone to have this much fun!

Viewed from above or below, the Jellyfish House
Chair and Ottoman look right at home in our casa.

More @#$#%&* firewood

2010-05-31T06:49:00.032-04:00

Phase I — August 2008: Collect underpants

My design approach for Casa de Roo seems to be following the philosophy of the “Underpants Gnomes” in South Park.

Their business plan:
Phase I: Collect underpants
Phase II: ???
Phase III: Profit!

For example, in July 2008, I insisted the crew save the pine pole that had helped support the house because I planned to use it, “somehow.” (And I did! In 2010. See, “Downstairs transformation: @#$#%&* firewood.”)

After spending time with the chickens and other critters at the New Jersey State Fair in Sussex County on August 3, 2008, I saw the Wood Mizer booth. In it was not only equipment to turn trees into plainsawn lumber, but the lumber itself—boards that still retained the look of the tree from which they came.

Matt tried to distract me with a yummy lobster roll. Sated, I scurried into the booth to ask the nice man about the luxurious lumber.

For sale?
Yes.
How much?
Fifty bucks. For black walnut.

I went over to the board that first caught my eye. It was an inch-and-a-half thick, 70 inches long and 21 inches wide. Sold!

And Matt was not happy!

In my myopia, I only saw beautiful wood. And I wanted it.

Matt saw only the challenge of getting said slab of wood into his truck at noon, just as traffic was backing up for miles. To avoid getting stuck for hours, we went the wrong way down a one-way street, cut across a restricted parking area, squeezed between parked cars and splashed through mud.

The board fit perfectly into the back of the truck and off we went. It was a quiet ride. And a teary, mediocre lunch that cost about what I paid for the wood.

Not only were we already living in home renovation chaos, I had just introduced another piece of very large clutter. And unlike the front door that was in the guest bedroom with its sidelight in the master bedroom, and the hot tub on the driveway with the its heater in the storage unit, this item has no predetermined purpose, no raison d’être…

And I’d already screwed it up.

The Wood Mizer guy was very clear: Seal the edges with wax or the wood will crack because the exposed ends will dry faster than the middle. Instead, I dabbed Old English Lemon Oil on the edges, ignoring the fact that the label failed to contain the word “wax.” Within a week, the wood cracked.

Master Bedroom, August 4, 2008: Nice piece of wood!

Living Room, Behind Couch, August 9, 2008:
Small cracks become larger, since I failed
to properly treat the ends of the slab.

Into the utility room I went on August 9, unstacking, opening and rifling through boxes until I found the Howard Feed-n-Wax wood preserver and liberally painted it onto the ends and into the growing cracks. On August 17, I flipped the board to seal the cracks on the other side. I then set the slab aside to cure for the recommended two-plus months. (Or so I thought.)

Phase II — August 2008–May 2010: ???

What has the slab of wood been since we brought it home? In the way.

August 2008: Under the futon in the guest bedroom.
March 2009: In the evolving screen porch.
From there we moved the slab into the front
shed, where it resided until May 2010.

Phase III —May 16–29, 2010: Profit!

At last: It was time to turn the American black walnut slab into a table.

On Sunday, May 16, 2010, we placed the freeform
slab in front of our house. And thus the project began.

In my mind’s eye was the work of legendary woodworker George Nakashima (and also his daughter, Mira).

Matt gets the project started off right with his
understanding of geometry and trusty cordless circular saw.

Luckily, Matt knew just what to do. First, he determined how much of the damaged wood needed to go. Then, he squared off the table—no easy feat given its natural flitch edge. The wood was now 66 inches long, 19.5 inches at the widest end, 17 inches in the middle and 14 inches at the narrow end.

Now it was my turn. I got out my orbital sander and first removed the remaining bark. My 80-grit sandpaper was no match for this hardwood, necessitating a trip to Home Depot for 40 and 60 grit disks.

A cracked area kept catching and dislocating the
sanding disks, so I filled it with wood putty.
Days later, we disguised the patch with walnut stain.

In all, I spent an estimated four hours sanding before it was time to apply the same tung oil finish we used on the daybed in the porch.

With its wax and oil mix, the finish was fairly simple to apply and keep applying until the wood seemed saturated.

May 22, 2010: A quick look from the deck down at the
in-progress tabletop before I go to screw up the finish.

My plan on May 22 was to coat the flip side of the slab in tung oil. But I did not wait long enough for the finish to dry, let alone cure, before I flipped the wood over again. And I did not consider the oily wax would seep onto what would be the top of the table.

Sanding the top created a mud comprised of sawdust, wax, oil, small insects and plant matter provided by the windy backyard. I had pretty much ruined the finish. It took two-plus hours of rubbing and sanding to remove the mess. This was not an enjoyable process and my stress level was not low.

Matt had not been happy with the waxy look of the table anyway, and used this setback as an opportunity to upgrade the project to a high-gloss tung oil finish. Then I was not happy, because the wax-free oil was much harder to work with and took me three coats to figure out.

After work on Tuesday, May 25, 2010, I applied another
coat of high-gloss tung oil, working in the backyard shed.
The beauty of the wood was starting to shine through.

The end result was beautiful. Like usual, Matt was right.

Last step: Legs. We considered various options, and I even thought large wheels would be kinda cool. But nothing seemed right. Then I had an “ah-ah” moment and grabbed the spring edition of Atomic Ranch off my nightstand. I pointed at the ad for hairpin legs. “That is it,” we agreed!

The legs from the aptly named Hairpinlegs.com,
made in Hilliard, Ohio, arrived on May 26, 2010.

May 28, 2010: Matt adds a mending plate to the underside
of the table to prevent futher cracking. Then he figures out
how to place the legs so the free-form table looks balanced.

We attach the legs on Friday, May 28, in honor of the 16th anniversary of the blind date that turned us instantly into a couple. And then I applied the final coat of tung oil.

We selected the sturdy three-rod hairpin legs
with the brushed stainless steel finish.

Just in time for very first party in the porch, we move the table into place in front of the daybed we made and prepare to greet Tiffiny and Jerry at our door.

Like being in a tree house

2010-05-16T08:43:00.038-04:00

A goal for renovating Casa de Roo has been to get daily moments of, “it feels like we are on vacation!” One feature in particular has required quite a bit of tweaking to provide opportunities for chllin’ out. Amazing how much work it has taken to turn the screen porch into a place where we can relax (and we have a few more steps to go).

Before: A view of our structurally unsound deck
from our neighbor’s deck on June 14, 2008.

After: View of the screen porch from the same
vantage point on July 5, 2009. The peak over the
porch balances the peak over the front door.

On April 24, we took the screen porch apart again. In March 2009, we removed view-blocking support posts that had been in the architectural drawing, but were structurally unnecessary.

Screen porch on March 8 (left) and March 28, 2009.

Screen porch parts on April 24, 2010.

This time, it was to rip out perfectly installed quarter-round pine trim from around the screens because it began turning black. After removing the screens, we cleaned, repainted the existing white trim and then put the screens back in, this time using PVC trim from Lowe’s.

We added a Cocktail Ledge, also made from white PVC.

After giving the room a good scrubbing to remove layers of yellow tree pollen, it was time to build the daybed Matt and I considered a “must have” since a December 2007 trip to the Bahamas.

Lounging around in our bungalow on Andros Island.

We had discussed the design many times since and determined it should be clad in cedar, to match our privacy walls, hot tub and deck skirting.

The daybed project takes shape on May 1, 2010.

As seems to be the case with all our projects, building the daybed took longer, featured some rework and required more materials than we expected. For example, we didn’t have quite enough cedar. Luckily, we had some wide-plank slag rejects from our deck skirting-with-barn-door project, which we used for cushion slats.

To get the rest of the materials needed to complete the build on May 2, we made a post-Saturday-night-out run to both Home Depot and Lowe’s. Other steps included long sessions of sanding, as the clear cedar boards we had ordered specifically for the project were slag, too. Dirty. Gouged. Strap-marked. Written upon. Then we topped the back and arm rest with the same PVC used for the Cocktail Ledge we added to the front of the screen porch.

At last, it was time for the finishing touches. First in place are the luxurious parrot green custom cushions that arrived on April 13 from OutdoorFabrics.com, topped by five outdoor pillows featuring sea life images by Thomas Paul that we purchased from Semplice Home in Montclair. (An ad in NJ My Way reminded me about the store I’d enjoyed way back in our Bloomfield days, and a lovely e-mail exchange with co-owner Kelly made me believe it was worth the April 11 trip.)

The daybed structure is complete on May 2, 2010.

On May 5, we moved all those cushions back inside so I could apply the first layer of tung oil. “No problem,” I assured Matt over coffee, “I can get this done before we need to pick up David at 10 a.m. and head to Philadelphia for the communicator’s conference.” Yeah, right: No problem. It was a turbo-driven tung oil application session.

A second tung oil session started before 7 a.m.
on Friday, May 7, 2010, a so-called “vacation day.”

That Friday, I applied two more coats, keeping my eye on the clock: we needed at least 16 hours of curing time before we could set the bed back up so it looked nice for our guests on May 8. Whew! The wood was dry just before Jean and Jennifer arrived with other family members and respective girlfriends for the combo Mother’s Day / Birthday party we were hosting last Saturday.

Finally, after work on May 13, I got to lounge on the fruits of our labor. Matt was playing softball, so I grabbed a magazine and plunked myself down on the daybed at dusk. Birds of many feathers were chirping all around me; it felt like relaxing in a tree house.

At 8:07 p.m. on Thursday, May 13, 2010.

Yesterday, I gave the tung oil finish a quick buffing with my new power tool, to smooth out a few lingering drips. Time at last for an easy project: installing outdoor FLOR® carpet tiles by Interface.

I’d wanted to use this environmentally responsible company’s carpet since the first time I heard their founder speak in September 2006. I saw another Ray Anderson presentation in September 2009, and even got him to autograph his book.

OK, OK… eco-cred aside, we choose this product because it ended up presenting the best design solution we could find. What a joy the carpet tiles are to work with—and so soft under my bare feet!

My goal for this week is to spend some time lolling around in the screen porch.

Downstairs transformation: @#$#%&* firewood

2010-05-09T08:25:00.041-04:00

On July 28, 2008, when structural repairs to our home began, I wrote:

As I requested, the team saved the pine tree that had helped hold up the house—it had been set directly in the dirt and surrounded by concrete. Matt calls the reclaimed lumber “@#$#%&* firewood.” He is not the only one swearing: I pledge to somehow use this pole in the renovation! (Hmmm… I wonder how…)

It wasn’t the first time a group of men had looked at me as though I was crazy, but figured they wouldn’t experience my full crazy potential by simply doing as asked. In fact, I made them save every one of the five poles they replaced with structurally sound lally columns.

The largest of the pine poles supporting the house, as seen
on May 7, 2002. We had attempted to make this area an
office for me, but it was too cold, dreary and damp.

The same pole in March 2006, after Matt
and I had demolition well underway.

A view from the utility room into the downstairs area.
Note the concrete-filled steel lally columns
replacing the end-rotted pine poles.

And so, the poles waited in the shed
(with the largest on the kayak stand)
from 2006-2010 for their moment to be
reunited with the home they once supported.

In the meantime, Steve Wasko's team (hired in May 2008)
made structural improvements to the house,
including installing these two lally columns, which I
painted silver. A crew then insulated the downstairs;
in December 2008, a worker installed drywall.

Matt and I then painted, had railings
installed, tiled and finished the stairs.

In July 2009, Matt installed our Blomus wall-hung
stainless steel fireplace, which uses clean-burning
ethanol fuel. By December, we were making good use
of the room, thanks to our Nintendo Wii Sports Resort.
Last night, eight of us held a bowling tournament.

At last, it was time to do something with the “@#$#%&* firewood.”

We set up the circular saw on April 3 and started
cutting the poles into inch-thick rounds. Each cut
required flipping the log to get the blade all the way through.

Concerned we didn’t have enough rounds,
we headed into the utility room to pull out
the last remaining wood pole. It was
incredibly easy, given that a multitude
of genuine lally columns now supported the
weight of the house once supported by the pole.

Score: It was cedar, a nice accent to the pine poles. So, we cut
it up, too, which took the rest of the day. Neighbors on both
sides of our house wondered what the heck we were up to.

The next day, I rough-sanded each round,
knocked out dead worms and pulled out
spider eggs (and in some cases, live spiders).
To bring out their character, I coated the best
side of each of the 310 rounds with Universal Sealer.

The worm holes, cracks and rings popped.
This took several sessions of effort starting
on April 10, not just because of exhaustion
but due to the lack of room to spread out the
rounds so they could dry while re-acclimating
to their indoor environment.

We did actually use the scrap pieces for “@#$#%&*
firewood” in our upstairs fireplace
on several chilly spring days (including today).

While I slept in until 7 a.m. on April 24, Matt made the
curved wall charcoal with leftover paint from a closet
project of years ago. The next day, we undertook installation
and realized we had enough rounds to fill the entire wall.

The project required eight or so tubes of Loctite PowerGrab.

Our time-sensitive goal was to complete the wall by May 8 to add a cozy touch to the hotel suite for Jennifer’s visit from Minnesota. The design goal was to preserve some of the home’s original history in an interesting way.

Don Davis gallery

2009-08-30T07:38:00.018-04:00

Perhaps the greatest transformation took place downstairs in the Hotel Suite/Mud Room (pronounced hoh-tel sweet slash muhd roo m).

Back in January 2007, when we were still in the planning process for this renovation and working with the incredibly impractical Dumas architecture firm, we articulated a key goal:

Give a reason to go downstairs. The area is now a basement with a door to the backyard and feels like an excellent place to develop musculoskeletal maladies.

Thankfully, in January 2008, we cut our losses, stepped away from the firm’s over-priced, unbuildable schemes, sketched a more doable design ourselves and found a relatively inexpensive architect to complete the drawings.

While we waited for the renderings, we got to work. On March 16, we started doing the demolition on the walk-out basement ourselves.

In May 2008, we made the wise decision of hiring Steve Wasko as our primary builder. Structural repairs began downstairs on June 28. August was a month of tremendous progress. (Could a year have passed already?) One tree trunk lally column holding up the upstairs was replaced by two proper supports, among other improvements mandated by the structural engineer we needed to hire.

As Matt noted: “It is like getting a new house from the inside out.”

Replacement stairs were built in October 2008. Matt had the team construct them in an “L” shape, versus the straight shot we traversed in the past. With the space defined, and before Igor (whom I’d never recommend) installed the drywall over the new framing and insulation, we ordered a hospital curtain track from the easy to work with people at Brite Inc.

In January 2009, our Railco Metalcraft railings were installed. We took care of paint, stair treads and trim. By June, we were adding a radiant heating system to the floor, followed by tile. (We learned—too late—about the almost impossible to remove resin haze the pre-mixed grout leaves behind. Matt has doused the floor with various chemicals during the past weeks to try to reduce the shiny splotches.)

After a lot of searching online, we found a storage bed—and seem to have gotten the last one in the country from the very nice people at FOW in Fair Lawn.

After the bed arrived in mid-July, we did some fine-tuning, including tiling the ledge behind the bed, paint touch-ups and caulking, etc. Then came one of my favorite aspects of feathering my nest: Hanging art. At last, we could place the five paintings created, selected and given to us by Matt’s dad, Don.

The curtains Matt picked up at deep discount from a going out of business sale informed our paint color choice for that wall of the house. Then Matt’s mom, Jean, was kind enough to sew the two panels together, creating on-demand privacy.

I cannot believe what this house has been through... But for this corner of our home, at least, it may be time to declare: “Yes! We are done!”

Beer garden

2009-08-23T20:45:00.018-04:00

We spent this evening at Starbrite Farm for Slow Food® Northern NJ’s Sustenance™ on the Farm Dinner. Or, as Matt calls it: Hippy Farm Dinner. (I wore my best tie-dye shirt. He reluctantly agreed to serve as my Arm Candy for the event.)

An al fresco fundraiser featuring “family style” dining with 98 strangers (Matt expected “88 lines about 44 women” by the Nails to describe the guest list), the threat of long speeches (totaling a relentless 63 minutes), under a tent in a muddy field (we had to regularly extricate our chair legs from the muck) during a hot, humid and buggy August night… what could go wrong?

Actually, excellent wine flowed with each of the five courses, plus dessert. Although the vegetarian option for the two meat courses looked comparatively akin to prison rations, it was all quite good. We had fun. (Luckily, Matt never noticed the underweight mustachioed hippy woman with the furry legs and dressed-so-you-cannot-miss-them hairy armpits.)

Farmer John told us about the travails of trying to grow organic vegetables. We identified. As gardeners, deer and ground hogs also thwart our efforts. Since moving to Casa de Roo in June 2000, we’ve learned that these critters welcome most plants we put into the yard as additions to their salad bar. Especially plants we ourselves consider delicious.

So a key element of our new deck is a potager. I had visions including espaliered apple trees; visions that exceeded our available “acreage.” We took delivery of our deck furniture on April 17. While the set ended up requiring more space than I envisioned when we placed the order at Max Furniture, the exterior living room is oh so comfortable.

On May 16, we hit Tractor Supply Company and found exactly what we needed: two galvanized metal feed troughs. The enormous containers fit one inside the other, like Russian nesting dolls, and we easily transported the set in my Rav4.

Our kitchen garden features a variety of tomatoes, herbs like basil and a few flowers to attract pollinators and add color. On May 17, we filled one trough and the metal planters we reclaimed up from our storage unit with organic soil. Every bag. So, off Matt went to Home Depot for more. He came home with (shudder) on-sale Miracle-Gro® potting mix. It smelled acrid, but soon off-gassed.

The organic plants look scrawny ... and have yielded delicious fruit since early in the season. The “juiced” plants became ’roid freaks, growing leaves like crazy and then collapsing. They took several rounds of staking and tying, and are productive, albeit difficult to harvest. Better living through chemistry?

We gathered our first two tomatoes on July 16 and continue harvesting these super-sweet beauties regularly. Then rain, rain and more rain fell, filling the tomatoes with water to the bursting point.

As the old saying goes: “If life gives you split tomatoes, make a cocktail.” So yesterday, I created a Bloodless Mary, dropping damaged Sweet 100s directly into a shot glass and topping it off with American-made Crop Harvest Earth Organic Cucumber Vodka. Matt made a Cucumber Crop-n-Tonic, garnished with tomato. (We had previously tried Crop’s tomato flavor, also excellent enough to drink neat.)

This morning we harvested 90 tomatoes, for a total of 731 small and large, red and yellow perfectly juicy fruits.

Two out of three: Final inspections

2009-06-24T17:20:00.013-04:00

Today is a big day for the Casa de Roo remodel. From Friday through Monday, we made a push not unlike cramming for finals—final inspections.

Preparations for this day actually began well over a year ago. Matt dropped off the permit application on June 6, 2008. It was approved on July 17 and we picked it up on July 18.

Since then, we have proudly displayed the permit in our window. Well, first our non-closing, bang-your-head-as-you-walk-by bay window (there was one facing the old deck, too) and now our beautiful, energy-efficient Anderson window.

A new roof not only provides what curb appeal you can get with a below-street-level house, it keeps out the rain and reflects away the heat of the sun.

When Dennis from the township arrived before 11 a.m., the shower door installer was already hard at work. We got approval for the building—with one verbal warning: fix the furnace flue pipe before winter. Dennis was the person who told our contractor to ground the metal roof against lightning strikes—something that hadn’t occurred to any of us, including both so-called architects.

Dennis inspected—and really liked—our new deck. It is quite an improvement over what we had before.

Next came the electrical inspection. We failed one element. Willie the electrician did not put in a GFI switch to protect the hot tub. Matt believes the ground fault interrupter, designed to protect against electrical shock by interrupting a household circuit, is actually within the hot tub control box, which the inspector did not open. If it is not, this is an error so insanely stupid even the shower door installer was shocked. In either case, we’ve asked the inspector to return on Friday.

And finally, the plumbing inspection. We passed, despite a poorly formed shower pan that doesn’t drain. We discovered this issue on Monday, so I made a Target run for a squeegee on Tuesday. I vowed we’d use the squeegee every time we showered.

The plumbing inspector complimented the home improvements, particularly our choice to modernize the house while remaining true to its ranch style.

Grout grouch

2009-06-13T19:55:00.015-04:00

I spent most of last Saturday not like a biped (Lucy), but like a quadruped (Ida).

“At least I am an Anthropoid,” I thought as I put another screw through the HardieBacker™.

“Arthropod,” insisted Matt, citing my exoskeleton as proof.

I was fine with shifting species; humans were letting me down. The electrician was to finish his punch list items on Friday, June 5. He did not show up. The bathroom was also to be completed that Friday. A different guy than the plumber on the permit showed up, told Matt that the job was all wrong, said something about needing to open up (A.K.A. destroy) part of the bathroom to fix it… and then he left with a promise to show up to do the work at 8 a.m. on June 6. He did not.

And our secondary contractor, Alex, sent Matt what amounted to an “F U” e-mail when he asked, “Where is everyone? And, by the way, where are our window screens?”

So I felt quite screwed while crawling around on all fours as we prepped for tiling the “hotel suite / mud room” we are creating downstairs. Matt cut the tile backer to fit, I fastened it to the sub-floor. We vacuumed and mopped the surface to accept the metal tape, securing the wire for the WarmGlo electric radiant heat system.

It wasn’t a pretty site, as I alternated tears with quoting lines from Coolio’s “Gangster’s Paradise,” particularly:

But I ain’t never crossed a man that didn’t deserve it
Me, be treated like a punk, you know that's unheard of
You better watch how you talkin’, and where you walkin’
Or you and your homies might be lined in chalk

Matt saw it was time to quit for the day, and took me for a mid-afternoon boat ride and then put me down for a nap.

Sunday, Matt spent the day—a good nine hours—alternating between being on the floor to using the tile cutter to fit the 15 3/4” black tiles around two metal poles and to nuzzle against the curved wall. I assisted. We worked about 10 hours, including my two trips to Home Depot to get $250 more pre-mixed thin-set.

Alex stopped by that morning to negotiate the terms of an amicable divorce. He will complete some items and give us responsibility for others. While it might end up being a wash financially, I’d like to think our time is worth something. What I care about most, however, is seeing the renovation process come to an end. [For context, this is my 100th blog entry since September 2006.]

As we spent this morning downstairs on our hands and knees, I mused, “What had we done during weekends prior to this renovation?” We reminisced about seeing plays in New York City and taking joy rides on the Vespa.

After a mere four hours of Matt putting pre-mixed grout between our “Tweed” tiles and me wiping them down, we were done. The last section of floor for this house was basically complete!

Then Matt saw my chafed knees during our lunch break. “You are shedding your exoskeleton,” he exclaimed. So, it turns out he is correct: I am a moulting member of the largest phylum in the animal kingdom—but at least I am an arthropod with a beautifully tiled floor.

Downstairs bathroom starts taking shape

2009-05-19T20:25:00.029-04:00

We have slowly been making progress on the downstairs bathroom since our demolition efforts more than a year ago. Wasko fixed the faulty foundation. Then we held our breath: Would we need a “poop pump” to compensate for the bathroom’s location under the master bedroom and at the bottom of the hill? (In addition to providing shelter, our home is basically a retaining wall.) Luckily, the answer was “no,” marking perhaps the only time we saved money on this renovation. (But then we learned we needed a water softener to protect the new plumbing. And out the door the money went.) Sub-contractors put plumbing in place, and the crew poured a “rat slab” to replace the dirt crawl space.

Before the end of last year came framing for the shower enclosure, pan liner, greenboard, cement board...

Once these steps were complete, the project was handed off to us. It was our job to paint and tile. After making the walls grey, we thought we were ready to tile. Ummm... not so fast... During our March 9 “vacation” day, we fixed the inadequate job done by our contractors on the shower area, taking off portions of the greenboard and cement board in the surround and adding our own tile backer, covering the seams with thinset per the manufacturer’s instructions. During the process, Matt got hurt. So we’ve added more blood to the ample amounts of sweat and tears (along with our money and time) claimed by this renovation.

The following weekend, we began to install the black penny round tiles to the floor of the shower and wall behind the “throne” of the “Tinkle Palace.” I randomly swapped black tiles with pricey stainless steel versions, an idea inspired by a tiled storefront. It took five hours on March 14 to tile just these two areas. We made our job more challenging by using the wrong-sized trowel to spread the thinset, causing the mastic to ooze between the penny rounds while making it difficult to get proper adhesion to the wall. Having learned from our mistakes, we had better results about a month later when tiling the bench area in the shower stall (among other projects).

On April 25 and 26, it was time for the next 20-hour challenge: white subway tiles for the interior and front wall of the shower surround. We decided on a columnar versus running pattern, which meant paying close attention to alignment. Matt needed to cut at least one tile for every row on each of the six interior walls, plus around the entrance and front of the shower.

With the shower area tiled and grouted, May 4 was the day to install the radiant floor heating system. The process began with a step backwards: Slicing a hole in the drywall to run the electric. Once the floor was clean, we ran and taped the cables down the hallway and through the bathroom.

So far so good. Until we added the thinset with the large-toothed trowel (required to help avoid slicing through the cable) and placed a set of penny round tiles, which then undulated with the pattern of the thinset. Clearly, this wasn’t going to work. So we quickly grabbed the large “Tweed” patterned tiles purchased for the main downstairs room and put them in place. Much better. Yeah, now we had boxes of penny rounds with no purpose and a no-return policy, and needed to buy more large tiles to complete the downstairs. More money for Standard Tile!

Matt discovered one key time-saving technology for the subway tile project: thinset in a bucket. Each time we open the bag of dry thinset (or grout), it releases more super-fine construction dust into the house. Dust that settles and resettles on each surface. Relentlessly. No matter how often we clean.

Thinset in a bucket is worth the premium price, as it eliminates the need for mixing, waiting 10 minutes for the mixture to set up and being ruled by the amount of mastic we made. And after we are too tired to trowel the traditional product no more, it is time for clean-up in the back yard, with a hose, in the dark, swarmed by bugs. Now when we are done—or cannot stand the idea of placing one more tile—we simply close the lid to the pre-mixed thinset and clean the trowel. We used the same product, in grey, for the floor tiles.

When we ordered the additional floor tiles, we learned that pre-mixed grout had just reached the market. Despite the bags of dry grout sitting in our home, we ordered two tubs. This new technology offers the same benefits as the engineered thinset, plus the color is consistent, set-up is quicker (which we discovered in a panic) and there is no need to seal the grout. Sold!

In planning design for the shower, we did not fully think through how difficult it is to do white over black tiles set in jet black grout. So while Matt grouted the wall behind the toilet area (using the traditional product), I scraped white thinset and grout out of the floor and bench of the shower, regrouting those areas. Messy. Frustrating. Tiresome. Worth it. Our beautiful bathroom is taking shape.

Outdoor living

2009-04-18T21:05:00.008-04:00

The service put our dock back in place a couple weeks ago. On Thursday night, the always happy Doug from Morris County Marine returned our boat and we got the first just-past-sunrise ride of the 2009 season. When we got the pontoon boat in 2004, it was like getting a floating living room.

After months—perhaps years—of searching, Matt located the objects of our deck desire using the Google images search. The outdoor pieces (a sofa, two chairs and two tables) by Max Furniture arrived on Friday. After putting it all in place, we did what any normal couple in the middle of a home renovation would do: Went downstairs to grout the tile on the shower floor and bench.

We made up for it this morning, starting the day with an after sunrise soak in the cedar hot tub and having breakfast on the deck. (Featuring herring and Gouda cheese.)

Then off to see the Mets win at their new field. (Thanks, Frank and Diana!)

We tried to end the day on the deck, but the mosquitoes chased us back indoors after a full day of fun in the sun. Tomorrow? Back to working on the house.

Friday night

2009-04-05T09:33:00.011-04:00

Matt takes a break from spring clean-up in the back yard on April 3 to capture the lake view between rainstorms and before sunset.

Screen porch takes shape

2009-04-02T21:37:00.008-04:00

My mom has a screen porch, providing that marvelous mix of fresh air and protection. The space just outside of the dining room was where our new porch was to go.

And so this screen porch has evolved, devolved and revolved. As a key feature of the Casa, we wanted to get it just right.

The first iteration of the screen porch hid too much of the view. The team installed two overly thick front posts equidistant from the corners of the outdoor room, which meant they misaligned with the railing. Their second try didn’t quite work, either. So we told Steve Wasko before winter hit that the posts had to go. We’re doing the work ourselves to save on ”redo” costs.

On Sunday, March 8, we began to tear down the posts. Although they were not structurally necessary, they were well-built. So many nails! And screws!

Later that day, we went to 84 Lumber to purchase Fypon cellular PVC bead board for the ceiling of the porch and had it delivered on March 9.

Our “it should only take one day” project continued on March 21 and 22, including hours climbing up and down the ladder, holding our hands over our heads and trips to Home Depot for more composite trim and a run to 84 Lumber to purchase one more length of bead board. Yup. One.

We weren’t happy with the pine used on the flat surfaces and replaced it with PVC, and in doing so discovered that the wall was not property protected from water, so we added tar paper left over from our shed construction project.

On Saturday, March 28, following a trip to both Home Depot and Ace Hardware, we finished the trim. Matt did all the fancy figuring and complicated cuts to get the pieces to fit together just right. Then we washed down the all the surfaces inside the porch.

That night, in a fit of insanity (while I “supervised” and scowled), Matt began working on the Gauguin outdoor ceiling fan by Minka Aire, purchased in October 2008 from Capital Lighting. It had been in the way ever since. Once we opened up the box, it was more in the way than ever. This is why Matt felt compelled to finish the tricky wiring job on Sunday morning despite the rain.

Matt accomplished a project I thought we’d be paying an electrician to complete. Was I impressed? Mighty impressed! This week Wasko’s team measured for screens. By May, we should have a fully functioning porch.

Curating the Casa

2009-03-14T20:24:00.010-04:00

Today is the one-year mark of our renovation efforts. On March 14, 2008, we got our first dumpster and started filling it with stuff. Well, crap, actually. The stuff we kept. When we took all the remaining art down on August 23, I looked around the room and felt incredibly glum. Thank goodness I could still amuse my eyes by looking at our view.

The art started coming back on the walls on February 7, 2009, because we needed to get the pictures off the floor as part of preparing for carpeting.

I got to reconnect with our precious family heirlooms, including a tapa cloth. My mom explains that my father hand carried this primitive paper-like bark fabric home from Fiji to Austria after getting his MBA in the United States and treating himself to a trip around the world—instead of flying east, he flew west. It now hangs in our bedroom, so I can see it every day.

With each image I unwrapped, I told Matt the tale of how this treasure came to be part of our collection. Remember Annapolis, New Orleans, New York City, San Francisco, Savanna, Music Fest with Karen and George?

Matt asked what I wanted to do on my birthday—within the context of preparing the house for a visit by Frank and Diana. I wished to get some more of our stuff back. And so on March 7, we headed to the storage unit. My collection of stemware returned to its home in the glass IKEA cabinet I purchased years ago with birthday bucks from my mother-in-law, Jean.

“Bertha” also made it home. And I had found a hand-typed postcard from Matt’s Aunt Jennie, who wrote, “It seems incredible that my ancient icebox which you found in my basement could look so good and become so useful.” (It stores booze.)

And we finally got to hang our key cabinet by the yellow front door, an Uncle Joe Brooks original. It coordinates perfectly with a favorite Don Davis painting. And back above the dining table went my three hand-carved angels. Oma Langer gave my mom the dark angel when I was born. She explains, “It was carved by the son of the old Heissl family who were Imperial (Kaiserlich-königliche Holzschnitzer) woodcarvers to Kaiser Franz Josef.” His heirs carved the other two angels, gifts from Oma to Mom upon the birth of my brothers.

Unwrapping all the carefully packed items was very much like being a very lucky kid at her birthday party.

IKEA adventures

2009-03-08T20:49:00.017-04:00

Yesterday, I explained to my Mom that, as wonderful as the products and designs are, the IKEA shopping experience is only for the hardy and handy. If you like service or stilettos and deplore phrases like “some assembly required,” stay away.

First customers walk through an enormous showroom (grab a map; follow the arrows). It is fun to see the wide variety of items in enticing vignettes—like walking through the pages of a very crowed shelter magazine. People run around with tiny pencils and fill out their blue shopping list.

Second, shoppers can catch their breath at the restaurant and café. We usually stop for a mix of Sprite and Lingenberry soda.

Refreshed, is it time for step three: Wheeling an unwieldy cart through an enormous warehouse, never letting it go, as an unscrupulous and less well-organized customer would surely scurry off with your wheels. Another danger is zombies, who—exhausted and glassy-eyed—will run their carts over your heel. I’ve been just such a shopper myself. (Sorry, Matty.)

If you are actually able to,
A) locate the bin and aisle with your selection,
B) find each of the needed boxes in the set and
C) decide they are undamaged enough to seem worth the risk, you can
D) struggle to maneuver the flat, heavy items into your cart.

Now it is time for step four: Trying not to pass out or get into fisticuffs during the endless wait to check out.

Vēnī, vīdī, vīcī. As we hauled our two overburdened carts to the truck, we realized we'd spent less on all the items on our list than for the sexy but too large extension table I admired online. Plus, there was no 12-week wait for the furniture to arrive.

We were also happy because Thursday, February 19, was the last day of Matt's truck lease, and we'd made good use of the vehicle during its final hours in our care.

Then came assembly, step five in the IKEA adventure. Yes, it is impressive how exceptionally well much of the furniture goes together. Great design and engineering. And fairly helpful pictographs. Yet even with the brains and brawn of Matt running the assembly operation, it took hours for us to put Expedit (made in Germany) together for the master bedroom and to add the Lack lighting.

We didn’t complete our mission. At 10 p.m., I needed dinner. I needed sleep. I needed not to be working on this project anymore, Expedit insert assembly and installation be damned. I woke up that Friday with an IKEA hangover.

Bjursta, the extension table, came together after Matt adjusted a couple holes with his power drill. We also installed the four nearly invisible Tobias chairs. And just in time for a visit by our darling six-your-old Goddaughter, Amanda. (Bjursta doubles as a desk.)

The three Pax wardrobes (also made in Germany), meant to replace our demolished entry closet, came together nicely. Until we tried to attach the Drammen doors. There were no hinges. “Sold separately,” we found out when we went back to IKEA on February 22.

Then we decided we needed a fourth Pax. And lighting. And shelves. And a “spacer” so the row of wardrobes would sit perfectly along the wall and hide the ugly fuse box.

So Matt also picked up Benno. It was a quarter inch too tall. Do we “rip” the bottom? No, no, better to add than subtract… That is why yesterday, on my birthday, our chores included attaching poplar trim to the “birch effect” storage units.

We got the desired result. The glossy wall of storage coordinates with our stairs. It glows (thanks to Dioder) like our Chia Tree with Star Light—like Morimoto restaurant in Philadelphia. Like a dream come true.

And all it took was five trips to IKEA (both to Paramus and Elizabeth) to get all the pieces and components we needed. (Plus we picked up some very yummy vittles from IKEA’s Swedish Food Market.)

It’s a beautiful morning

2009-02-28T06:43:00.009-05:00

Matt and I started the day with a 6 a.m. dip in our cedar hot tub.

We got out just before sunrise, which is happening now, as Matt brews my cappuccino and makes me breakfast.

It’s a wonderful life!

So long skylights

2009-02-27T21:31:00.006-05:00

In early 2006, we began talking to architects. In February 2007, the architect we hired was already letting us down. In February 2008, when it was time to get a new architect, I embraced the ranch house vernacular.

There was one key driver for this project and five months ago, the hated feature of this house was finally removed.

“I thought I’d miss the skylights,” Alison commented after walking into our great room on a January afternoon. “But I don’t. It is plenty bright in here.” Aunt Theresa said the same thing on Saturday, when it dawned on her that the 20 holes in the ceiling were now replaced with, well, ceiling.

Matt and I agreed that the room was plenty bright. So bright, in fact, we had to order window treatments (on sale, free shipping). We put up the GreenGuard Certified Solar shades from The Shade Store on Valentine’s Day.

When construction began in August 2008, we decided to turn off the air conditioner to protect the system from all the dust caused by jack hammering concrete and other related activities. We picked up a window fan at Target.

I’m a big fan of the environment and of open windows, but this was August. Although it is said that women don’t perspire, they “glow,” the heat captured in this terrarium of a house didn’t produce a glow, or even sweat, it covered me in a slime coat. That is right. You heard me. Slime coat.

We had tried to mitigate the terrarium factor earlier that summer. After submitting our permit, we figured it wouldn’t be long until construction starts. So we went down into the utility room and brought up a staple gun and the bin marked “fabric and scarves.” Three pieces looked like they would do the trick, a blue table cloth remnant with flowers, a chartreuse tablecloth remnant featuring fruit and a purple silk scare featuring the “ohm” symbol.

Each swatch was then used to cover a skylight over our couch. And it did give us peaceful feeling to be able to see our TV screen before the sun went down. The result was evocative of a circus tent. Or a trailer park. We honestly didn’t care.

When our personal trainer, Tiffiny, saw window treatments, she said, “Oh, I really like that—it looks so cozy.” This is from the same woman who reminds us, “There is no wrong in yoga.”

It helped, it really did. Yet it wasn’t enough. About a month later, during the mid-July heat wave, I obsessively kept checking the weather station in our kitchen to learn that the 84°F temperature indoors was only 10 degrees lower than outdoors.

On Sunday, September 28, chunks fell off of the ceiling. The previous Friday, we had to move the couch to save it from getting wet from the drips of rain.

But no more. No more skylights. No more holes in the ceiling for sun to beat through and rain to stream through. One of the best features of the renovation is the part of the house that is no longer with us.

Floored — x3

2009-02-16T21:59:00.016-05:00

Once the railing was in place, we had to race to prepare for the next milestone of the remodel: carpeting.

Step 1 was to tile the entryway. We thought, Bigger Tiles = Smaller Time to install. As with all our “it won’t take that long” estimates on our do-it-yourself projects, we were wrong.

It took three full weekend days. On January 31, we prepped the area, including moving stacks of stuff yet again, trying to somewhat level the floor, screwing down HardieBacker® Cement Board, cutting tiles with our wet saw as needed, troweling on thinset mortar, “buttering” the tiles, placing the tiles, adding spacers…

After 10 hours, we had half the entry done. The next day, with more than six hours invested to finish the other side, we were able to watch Super Bowl. The tiles magically matched up with the poplar stair surround. The following Sunday, we added grout.

Last Saturday, we fixed the holes in the floor with metal plates, thinset and new plywood. Matt tore up and removed the remaining old carpet. Yuck! ...And a million other exhausting details.

Our reward? On the February 11, Tony’s crew expertly installed our Oceanside style GreenChoice carpet by Kraus—recycled content backing, recyclable and the Carpet & Rug Institute’s highest Indoor Air Quality rating. And it lined up perfectly with the tile. Perfectly. It is soft, beautiful and the Silver Star color changes hue depending on the light, sometimes greenish and sometimes grayish.

We seem to have become a “no shoes upstairs” family. Now I understand our Aunt Theresa’s mom and her disdain for seeing Matt’s footprints across her “sacred” carpet.

There is, of course, a Domino Effect to making improvements. Our terrible vinyl flooring in the kitchen was no longer going to be bearable. So before seeing the Devils win on January 30 with Frank and Diana, we ordered cork flooring in a store up the street from their home.

Yesterday, we spent another seven-plus hours on our hands and knees installing the Toledo style German-made UniClic Kork-Fußboden. In researching click system floating floors online, I read, “The laying of the cork panels is so easy that one almost regrets when the job is finished!” I do not concur. Not only doesn’t the flooring make a satisfying “click” sound when the planks come together, it takes a lot of pounding and wrestling the get boards into place. We also came dangerously close to being one board short. Matt made it work.

The result? Beautiful floors throughout the upstairs.

No more dangling on the hairy edge

2009-01-25T19:04:00.013-05:00

Since we demolished much of the half-wall in April, navigating our staircase meant descending into a hole in the floor—and traversing our great room meant avoiding said hole.

This resulted in moments of heart pounding excitement. Such as when we maneuvered scaffolding over the pit in order to reach the peak for painting. Or carrying 16 foot long pieces of trim into the house and almost taking one step too far back when trying to place the bouncy boards on the great room floor.

But all that was to change on Friday. At last, we were ready for Railco Metalcraft to install our railings. They did careful measurements and we approved their detailed shop drawings for railings going on both sides of our steps from the deck to the back yard, down the side of the house where Wasko poured concrete steps, from the top floor to the landing, from the landing to the walk-out basement and even for the three steps up to the pending second bathroom.

Then my office phone rang at 10:45 a.m. It was Robert from Railco, who was having a problem with the install. The poplar surround changed the dimensions of the hole in the floor. The railing no longer had proper knuckle clearance to pass inspection. In a gentle voice, Robert explained that “they” did this, that and the other thing wrong.

I admitted, there was no “they.” It was us. We did it wrong. We approved the drawings and never looked at them again. We did the surround in order to hide the bad drywall, without considering the way this element would (or would not) tie in with the railings.

His tone softened further, but I could imagine him thinking, “Expletive! Now I have to come back and finished the job! Expletive do-it-yourselfers!”

We talked through the project; I thought Matt and I could handle it. So I told Robert to install everything he could and leave the rest for us to figure out. He gave me his mobile phone number and said he was just a call away if we ran into trouble. Matt and I conferred and agreed with this course of action.

What did we do this weekend? We pulled the trim off of the left side of the surround, purchased a new circular saw and used it to cut the poplar as close to the wavy wall as we could and I used an orbital sander to try to create a subtle groove to ensure there would be code-required knuckle room. We also ripped hardboard and painted it white as a low-profile trim substitute.

The railing overshot our surround, and this forced us to figure out how we’d finish the front of the stairs. Poplar. It had been the obvious answer all along, but our rush to complete the 18 treads blinded us to thinking about the project holistically.

All we had left was one board of the appropriate length, but with a crown that hadn’t been treated royally by the mill. It took me more than three hours of sanding to make it usable. (Meanwhile, Matt painted trim.) Yes, this was a far superior option to going back to Home Depot. Their sound system—controlled by Atlanta headquarters—crackles in a way more irritating than the endless whir of an electric sander and their peopled checkout lines never seem to move forward.

So undoing and redoing was all we accomplished this weekend, but we met our objective. The entire surround is poplar, and it looks the way it should. All the silver railings are in place and beautiful. And I no longer have to worry about dangling on the hairy edge. The great room now has fall protection.

Selective seeing

2009-01-24T19:24:00.008-05:00

Last weekend, we figured out the landing for our staircase. The teak left over from the shed we built in 2005 looked great surrounded by the poplar we were using for the treads. All I needed to do was spend some time with the orbital sander to make the edges of the teak more level with the poplar. Teak laughs at sandpaper. Countless hours of sanding spread over two days, and the teak was still laughing.

On Sunday, we abruptly stopped trying to make progress, leaving barely enough time to prepare for our guests: Matt’s mom and two sisters. This meant a lot of spot cleaning. In other words, go ahead and look at this spot, but politely avert your eyes when it comes to that spot.

Moments before they arrived, Matt returned from the rented storage unit and we carried chairs from the truck, through the snow, down the hill and into the house. This was the first time in months our living room looked inviting—if you focused on the crackling fire instead of the stacked trim and tile on worn sub-flooring.

Our house tour included comments about what we will do, what a spot will become and admissions like, “and we have to figure out we are doing here.”

Gathering around the newly exposed kitchen island afterwards, we dined on Chinese take-out, toasting Jennifer’s visit from the frozen lakes of Minnesota to our frozen lake in New Jersey.

Thanks to bringing back a few sticks of furniture, adding a trio of VIPs and emptying several bottles of beer and wine, Matt and I started to see our vision for this project coming true: Casa de Roo as a cozy and fun place to hang out.

It had been a while since this was the case.

Flashback…

July 20 was the type of day that made a dame sweat as she stood still while minding her own business. It was hot, humid and not unlike getting a face full of pasta steam. It was the kind of Sunday that inspired us to wake up and say: Now that we have the permit, we should rent a storage unit and start getting our stuff out of the house! And so we did. A simple 10’ x 15’ metal box lacking both internal lighting and climate control.

Once the temperature “dipped” to just above 90 degrees, it was time to begin making use of our investment. We believed the crew would begin downstairs, and start schlepping the first truck load up the stairs from the utility room, up the stairs in front of the house and up into the pick-up. I could feel my blood pumping—in my face. One truckload was all we could take.

On July 27, Sam and Nick helped us move out bigger items. They are not only great workers, they are great fun to hang out with.

On October 1, we made the last critical run to the storage unit. The contractors were about to demolish much of our great room.

Our concern? We wouldn’t want much more of our stuff back once the renovation is complete.

Scariest tool ever

2009-01-11T21:07:00.013-05:00

How to finish the stairs has been an ongoing source of brainstorming for Matt and me. We decided on carpet. Then regretted it and looked at other off-the-shelf (and outlandish) options and then went back to carpet.

But we really didn’t want carpet.

At Lowe’s we saw it: Poplar. There was not enough, but it was beautiful enough to convince us to nix carpet for the stairs.

On Monday, we headed to Home Depot after work and loaded up the truck with 12” wide boards totaling 96 feet (about $500 worth).

We began cutting the treads on Wednesday. This was no easy task. Between the ham-handed framers and Igor the non-perfectionist drywall installer, the walls on either side of the steps were far from even. For each, we had to measure the inside and outside width of that step, check for the crown of the board, cut it as far as the saw would allow, flip it and complete the cut, dry fit, adjust as needed and number.

We got the first 10 treads cut length-wise before calling it a night. I spent Thursday dreading the next round; I came home to a brown-out. No heat, no oven—but no power tools, either. Rest for the weary! Woo Hoo! The electric company fixed the problem around 10 p.m.

The tools came back out on Saturday, including a brand-new, $70 blade for Matt’s compound miter saw. We cut the remaining eight steps length-wise. Then came the fun part. Not! Ripping the treads for width. One of the contractors left his table saw behind. Score!

No free lunch. The tool lacked guarding, so as we guided each tread through, trying to keep the wood straight, our main concern was keeping our fingers clear of the spinning blade. This was the scariest tool we had ever used.

Ripping was followed by sanding was followed by coating each tread with Pro Finisher Universal sealer. By the end of the night, I was ready to throw up on my shoes from stress and exhaustion. Matt filled the bathroom with candles and the tub with warm, fragrant water.

By 8 a.m. today, I was ready to get back to work as Matt shoveled snow.

We had considered ebonizing the treads, but didn’t for a number of reasons. For one, my mother sounded skeptical, which made me imagine that heading downstairs might feel like plunging into a dark abyss. At Target, most of the furniture featured dark wood. “Ah-ha,” I said while running an errand, “ebonized wood is trendy. I don’t do trendy.”

When Matt and I recalled why we chose poplar to begin with: Every board is different. The colors range from light to green to red to almost black. We wanted the wood’s character to shine through, and are using clear, semi-gloss water-base polyurethane made for floors instead of stain.

We do not really have enough room for this project, so I stacked the treads, set up my tools, grabbed my spectacles and learned I’d need to coat, let dry, sand, coat again and then, after a 24-hour wait, sand and add one or two more coats. I almost cried. To distract myself, I practiced my goezintuhs. Three goes into 18 six times. That meant I had only coated 1/6 of the treads so far. Despair. Matt came in to see me working on the floor, hunched over and snarling “worst project ever” at the boards.

Noting that this surely wasn’t the worst project ever and reminding me we still had trim and tiling to do, Matt went on to save the day by setting up a work area for me using a large garbage can with the still-boxed tile saw on top, protected by a garbage bag and covered in a drop cloth. This meant carefully maneuvering each wet board to dry on the floor, but I’d be able to remain upright most of the time.

Two coats later, the treads are beautiful as they wait in the great room. Although we made progress (including a marathon cleaning, organizing and insulating session by Matt), we are far from reaching the goals set on Monday.

See, until we complete the stairs, Wes cannot install the railing. Until we stop spreading paint, poly and sawdust on the sub-flooring, Tony cannot install the carpet. Until we do this step, that step cannot happen…like a domino effect of damnation.

Renovation tip: It takes longer and costs more. Yes, even when you are doing it yourself. Be realistic about how much a “weekend warrior” can really accomplish. Make sure your team has the measuring skills, power tool prowess, stamina, strength and stick-to-it-ness. Me? I’ve envisioned running away from home several times since we started on the stairs, but instead I just keep working.

Pinturas

2009-01-04T18:28:00.015-05:00

Today we finished painting the upstairs walls. (Except, of course, for the marathon “touch up” session and trim work still to come.)

We celebrated by going to Home Depot and then coming home to fix the sump pump.

Drywall was delivered on December 1. Installation began on December 5, with joint compound applied the next day. Then the real mess started: Sanding. Igor was at it until December 13.

At my insistence, Matt got bids from professional painters. One came in at $3,200, one at $5,000 and another bidder required Matt to answer a long list of questions, making that vendor too much work to work with.

Armed with this information, El Jefe handed me a paint brush on December 21. Before we could begin to apply primer, however, we had to clean up the drywall dust with our “enhanced” shop vac.

Today marked the tenth day in a row that Matt painted (13 total for him, 11 for me). The paint tally is 11 gallons of Valspar primer from Lowe’s and 25 gallons of low- or no-VOC paint from Sherwin Williams.

In the great room, we used five gallons of Aura White on the ceilings and front and back walls, five gallons of Windy Blue on the side wall, heading down the stairs into what we are now calling the suite (sweet!), with accent walls of Turkish Coffee.

Matt and I both independently came to the conclusion that the accent walls should be deep brown. My inspiration was our existing Bisazza glass tile fireplace hearth, the Mini Clubman and my favorite flavor of water by Metromint®.

Renovation tips:

Buy no-VOC (or at least low-VOC) paints to make the newly decorated rooms instantly usable (no “new” smell). What a difference from the toxic paints professionally applied to our interior in 2000, which were so headache-inducing we had to sleep in the downstairs storage area (soon to be a bathroom) for several nights!

Use the right tools. I love our unfinished wood handle Purdy cut in brushes, our Teflon-coated roller pan, my decades-old favorite painting shirt and even the Bil-Jax scaffolding from Taylor Rental.

Be sure to factor in the time needed at both ends: Prep and clean-up. (I like using an official paint can opener and an old comb for cleaning bristles.)

Quit while you are ahead. Yesterday, Matt didn’t, and then stepped from the ladder into a pan full of paint in a fit of fatigue-induced delirium caused by working about 11 hours.

Happy New Year

2009-01-01T23:08:00.008-05:00

We dedicated 2008 to rebuilding; December in particular.

For example, the ham-handed framers did a less than adequate job on the great room bump out. It leaked.

Although Alex’s team didn’t create the problem, they did try various remedies. On Christmas Eve, we returned home from a family gathering to find snow melt on the floor. (Of course, I took photos and e-mailed them Alex and Steve.)

On December 26, Alex, his partner, Voncho, and father, Angelo, came to resolve the problem once and for all, opening the wall, building up the area, adding flashing and plenty of water-proofing while also installing the correct sliding glass doors. So far, so dry!

Yet the floor remained un-level, dropping three-quarters of an inch from the original sub-flooring to the new doors. Joe took care of this on December 30, by shimming the sub-flooring with carefully ripped 2x4s for the new section of the room. Another item off the long punch list Matt prepared.

Yesterday, while trying to adjust the height of our rented scaffolding, Matt and I instead bashed a hole in our freshly painted wall when the platform collapsed. Since neither of us was injured, we called it a minor set-back. Spackle to the rescue! It goes on pink, turning white when it dries. Several layers later, we’re still working on making the wall right.

Today, when removing blue painter’s tape from the wood trim on our media cabinet, I managed to take a lot of fresh paint off with it. Once again, a project moved backwards.

We were both getting frustrated and were fixin’ to get into a fight—with ourselves, each other, the house or a random hobo. More likely, one of us was about to fall off a ladder with some sort of majestic, DIY-limiting crash. Taking a prophylactic measure, we quit after putting in only four hours of painting.

This gave us fresh perspective. Instead of seeing only what is left to be done, we could see that the end of the project wasn’t that far off.

It is day 289 since demolition began, day 213 since hiring a builder, day 166 since getting permit approval and day 156 since the first crew arrived to officially begin the renovation.

We also realized today is not only day one of a happy new year; it is our eighth day in a row of painting and priming. Tomorrow, my “vacation” ends and I head back to the office. My tired bones will appreciate getting, um, back to work.

Happy Holidays!

2008-12-24T11:50:00.008-05:00

Whether your preference is Merry Christmas, Reason’s Greetings, Happy Hanukkah or some other variation of the winter celebration theme, I wish you and your friends and family a warm, dry, cozy and safe home in which to live, love, party and thrive!

To help overcome my typical “Bah Humbug” attitude, Matt brought home a renovation-appropriate tree. Keeping our household holiday tradition alive, this morning Brak left me something under this symbol of pre-Christian Germanic paganism. It goes like this: I buy stuff and an item disappears. It reappears wrapped, with love from Brak. Hoping for a chocolate bar, I started singing Christmas carols (in German, of course, making up words where I forgot the lyrics and giggling at the results). Now that is the spirit!

Pricier gifts were delivered at 6:45 a.m. yesterday: Tiles for the house. Poor Craig from Standard Tile had to hand-carry each heavy box from his truck on the street, down through the snow and ice to the front of the house. Matt took it from there. (Yes, we tipped well! ’Tis the Season, after all.) Also on Tuesday, Alex’s team delivered the correct sliders for the great room (now we just need them installed).

Other packages came earlier in the month, containing paint. Gallons of the stuff from our local Sherwin-Williams. (Karen let us know they have good-quality low-VOC paint). Priming has already begun. What a difference! And somehow, Matt was able to prime the peak of the great room’s cathedral ceiling using just his arms and a roller on a stick! (In case anyone wondered why I married a man 1’1” taller than me, may I offer this as yet another reason.)

I’ll be home for Christmas—and what a nice home it is turning out to be!

Cedar point

2008-12-16T21:09:00.013-05:00

Since beginning this home renovation journey, we wanted a water feature in which to submerge ourselves. Our original architect, Jimmy, fueled our ridiculous desire for a lap pool we couldn’t afford. We also investigated the feasibility of a stainless steel hot tub or conventional spa and even went so far as to visit the SwimEx facility in Massachusetts. (If you can buy a SwimEx, do it. We were able to try it out—was like swimming in a happy river. Wonderful!)

All these options had one problem in common: No way to get the water feature from the front of the house where it would be delivered to the back of the house where it would be needed.

Then my Google addiction bore fruit: I found SeaOtter WoodWorks natural handcrafted cedar hot tubs.

With the dumpster finally gone, on Sunday, Matt and I unpacked the crate that Chris packed for us in Haines, Alaska, on April 25. The contents were in pristine condition after all those weeks of sitting under a torn blue tarp in our driveway.

Early on in the planning process, we mapped out where the hot tub would be located; Steve’s crew reinforced that section of deck.

When I placed the order in February, Bill asked me about our plans for the tub and I told him about our lakefront view—and our wild birds.

We hand carried all the hot tub parts down and around our house to the new lower deck. When we got to the last four staves (of 45), the carvings stopped us in our tracks: A Swan! A Mallard! A Great Blue Heron! And a Kingfisher! Four of my favorite birds—on my hot tub!

Building the hot tub was a three-person job. Like a couple of amateur coopers, the two of us got as far as assembly. Putting the last stave in place was challenging and frustrating—a bit like a segment of America’s Funnies Home Videos—but we managed to git er dun. Next up is electrical and plumbing.

On Saturday, Matt and I had put together a key feature of the deck skirting: A barn door on a bullet track with carefully aligned cedar planks. Stepping back, we saw how nicely it all came together: The wide cedar planks anchoring the house, the narrow cedar planks providing privacy and the cedar staves of our gorgeous hot tub.

My house is hydrophilic

2008-12-12T21:59:00.008-05:00

Getting ready to dash to work, I stopped short to answer the little voice inside my head.

“Perhaps I ought to give the house a once-over,” I thought. Areas of New Jersey were under a flood advisory given the relentless build-an-arc rain we had all day Wednesday and Thursday and into this morning.

Good thing I did—I found four leaks. Two in the new downstairs bathroom and one in each corner of the great room bump out, right and left of the temporary sliding glass doors.

As so yet again, I was snapping photos with my iPhone and sending them to my contractors.

This was not our first “rain coming into the house” experience. And it was not our second experience, either. In fact, keeping rain from penetrating our home was the main driver for this renovation project.

“This frakin’ house is hydrophilic,” I muttered to myself while driving to work with a stress-induced stomach ache.

Alex sent me an e-mail that said, “I had Joe diagnose the problem and he found the water was coming in from your bedroom. This morning he’s pitching the deck board away and sealing the underside. Don’t be alarmed or nervous your home will be water tight when we are done with it.”

Now I need another torrential downpour to test whether they solved the problem… Gutters will be nice, too.

Epilogue: Be careful what you wish for

We found moisture in the ultility room under the interior stairs on Saturday morning. Granted, much of the neighborhood was pumping water out of their basements (and onto the road, where it froze).

This morning (December 16), after a night of rain, the left side of the bump out was again leaking, just not as extensively as before. One day, my home will be warm and dry.

Horrible Stuff

2008-12-11T20:32:00.015-05:00

We took off Monday through today because our contractor lead us to believe we would be able to use our vacation days to prime, paint and tile. This is difficult to do if Igor is still applying ProForm® joint compound to the 1/2” ToughRock® gypsum boards.

To speed up the process, we removed the drywall from the exterior-facing wall in our bedroom ourselves. In addition to water damage, the wall had several holes because Willy added interior and exterior electrical and the plumber added an exterior faucet.

In doing the demo, we found yet another surprise... The flooring for the bedroom bump out constructed by the previous owner was not level. We already knew that. Until we pulled up the carpet, we did not know why. Mystery solved: layers of badly applied so-called leveling compound is the problem. We are still trying to figure out a solution.

As a method of mitigating the sound of Smilin’ Mike’s sociopathic wind bell (hung two yards down from us on a tree branch over the lake), Igor applied two layers of the already-purchased drywall. Reducing the cranium-piercing sound was also part of the reason we removed a window from the bedroom (the other reason was to reduce light trespass from neighboring properties). Filling every gap and hole with insulation was an important part of this project. The result? Deep sleep—the first full night’s sleep in a very long time—during the middle of a heavy rain storm!

Renovation tip: If you use Great Stuff, be sure to follow directions. (Do as I say, not as I do.) Better yet, do not use Great Stuff. Even the minimally expanding version expands relentlessly. And if you get it on your hands, nothing takes it off. Not paint thinner, not nail polish remover, not acetone, not scrubbing, not nail files. Nothing. This horrible stuff does not come off of surfaces, either. Thankfully, we learned from the previous owner that trim hides all sins.

Things I won't miss...

2008-12-03T21:50:00.010-05:00

As I left for work this morning, the house began to fill up with workers. Alex was there with Igor, the head of the drywall crew, a couple stucco guys arrived and it felt like people kept on heading in as I was heading out.

“I sure won’t miss the house being filled with strangers,” I thought to myself, hopeful the day would be so productive that it marked the beginning of the end of this phase of the renovation.

There are several elements of the renovation I won’t miss at all. Like the Port-o-Potty. Or the dumpster—and the obstacle course it creates. Speaking of mazes: it will be great not to be crawling over and around a variety of tools and home parts scattered through the interior.

I also won’t miss the weekly clean-up session in the yard to pick up the variety of detritus left by various sub-contractors.

Also on the “won’t miss” list is writing yet another check for yet another unexpected expense, none of which ever seem to be for a sum less than a grand. When the project is done, will nocturnal fretting become a thing of the past?

Going from a ranch house to a one-bedroom apartment is a lifestyle I’m more than ready to reverse. The master bedroom has become our version of the Axiom featured in Wall•E. Our bed is like one of the “why get up” loungers used by the humans on the starliner; as a result, the passengers lose bone density and muscle mass. Speaking of which: not doing our weekly in-house yoga session with Tiffiny is its own form of torture.

Is there any part of the renovation process I will miss? Ahhh... let me ponder that question... um... No!

On the other hand, has it really been a bad experience? No! And is it (already) worth it? YES!

Got glass? The slider saga continues

2008-11-27T08:55:00.006-05:00

After almost two months of cave dwelling, we got to see the lake from the great room when the wrong four-panel sliders were temporarily installed on Monday, November 24.

Wind-driven rain hit the house throughout the night. I noticed it coming in at 10 p.m. and put down a towel to try to blot up the water. By morning, the towel was saturated and surrounded by water.

I sent iPhone photos to Alex and Steve and learned that, since the sliders were going to be replaced, the crew didn’t caulk around the unit. As a temporary measure, Joe, the leader of Alex’s crew, used a piece of roofing as a gutter to direct water away from the house.

On Tuesday, Joe and his team installed the correct sliders in the dining/screen porch area. There are three glass panels; the one on the left moves while the other two remain fixed.

Stepping back to look at the two styles in the same room, we congratulated ourselves for standing our ground and insisting on the Therma-Tru Slim-Line™ Sliding Patio Door System.

Non-glass house

2008-11-23T20:35:00.010-05:00

On the night of Monday, November 17, we were especially cold. On Tuesday morning, I discovered the cause: somebody cut a space for the bathroom window and left it completely open! This new bathroom is directly under where we sleep. I took a photo with my iPhone and e-mailed it to Steve and Alex under the subject line, “Big freezing hole.” They’ve since put plywood over the gap on the inside and continued installing stucco on the side of the house.

We are still waiting for the proper transom window to arrive. We rejected a two-pane affair for being the wrong style for the house. The contractor ordered it without our review and approval; he gets to eat the cost.

Insulation installation began on Wednesday. With spray-foam costing about double, we’ve signed up with the Pink Panther (Owens Corning PINK FIBERGLAS® Insulation). When Matt walked in after work, he was like, “Hurrah, insulation!”

Irritation quickly replaced his jubilation. A dark shroud has covered the great room since the crew removed our two sets of sliders on October 2. At long last, there were glass doors in the great room… These were, however, the wrong model. We expected Therma-Tru Slim-line™ doors, which are designed to maximize our view. We got the Smooth-Star® style that we accepted for the bedroom but all agreed was wrong for our living area.

When I got home from work well after 8 p.m., Alex was on the phone, explaining that he couldn’t return the seven door panels; Matt was explaining that Alex couldn’t attach the sliders to our home.

All three of us suffered a sleepless night. The question I kept asking myself was: What will ultimately make me happier, getting the job done now (which is what led me to accept the window order and the back doors and the bedroom slider), or saying “no” and being stuck with nothing, as we are in the downstairs bathroom?

Alex met with us on the morning of Thursday, November 20, admitting his ordering error and providing us with a solution: install the wrong doors now and swap them for the correct versions when they arrive (both styles use the same track). We agreed. And as we now wait for this crucial step in buttoning up the house, ice forms on the lake.

Renovation tip: Trust but verify. Come up with a system that enables you to double check and approve every important item that your contractor plans to order for your home. It will save you aggravation—and it will save him money (and the time and energy it takes to deal with an aggravated client). Although we provided the contractor with a window and door schedule, we still ended up with different stuff than we specified!

The spicy smell of cedar

2008-11-16T17:34:00.017-05:00

Miguel and Jess are constructing the privacy walls on both the upper and lower decks. These are comprised of cedar over a pressure-treated infrastructure. After a lot of ruminating, the concept Steve, Matt and I agreed on was a horizontal “good neighbor” fence.

Below it, Matt and I are installing cedar deck skirting. The idea of off-the-shelf lattice wasn’t cutting it for us, so we ordered one-by-eights of cedar from Corey at 84 Lumber and are attaching the boards horizontally, with gaps of about an inch. The house is starting to look anchored to the ground.

With all the recent rain, this lumber is perfuming the air and making us all the more anxious to get to a point where we can install our cedar hot tub, which I optimistically ordered in February.

Renovation tip: Save time by creating a drilling jig that eliminates the need to measure over and over and over and ensures all the screws line up attractively.

On November 7, we blew past the tentative completion date for the project. For me, this was a non-surprising non-event; I had placed little faith in this date. Nonetheless, there is progress:

Joe installed the all-important operable Velux® Manual Venting skylight in the upstairs bathroom on November 10. Like all our windows, it is Energy Star rated.

The roofing materials arrived on Tuesday, November 4—at the neighbor’s parking area. (I brought over a nice bottle of apology wine.) The next day, Matt spent some time on the roof, seeing how Joe installs it. (Then the rotted side wall in the great room—the reconstructed exterior is shown below—diverted the crew). The Advantage-Lok® Standing Seam roofing in unpainted Galvalume® now covers about 80 percent of the house. Our Energy Star-rated roof has a Total Solar Reflectance (TSR) of 68%—the highest offered in this product line—and it gleams in moonlight and disappears in the fog.

The Therma-Tru® sliding glass door was installed in our bedroom on November 5. It still doesn’t open or close easily enough, but at least the non-functioning, code-violating bay window is gone. (So is the one in the kitchen.)

My front door, Daisy Allendale by Crestview, was ordered in April, arrived in June and on November 15, Joe made it swing true and added the door hardware from 84 Lumber.

The stucco process began on November 7; finally, after a lot of begging, we got our color and texture choices on November 14. The stucco crew has been leaving the area disarray. We have cleaned up after them too often. Today Matt sent a note to Alex and Steve entitled, “Weekly email about trash and deck protection,” that said in part: “If they can’t respect our property, then they need to be replaced.”

We passed our structural inspection on November 12.

We passed our rough electrical inspection on November 14.

Duct tape, spackle and pray for good weather

2008-11-05T20:21:00.006-05:00

By guest writer and project co-conspirator Matt Davis

After months or structural work, framing and endless decisions, the end of the project is in sight. Like the horizon, we can see it but it never seems to get closer. Today, as The Call once sang, “And the walls came down.”

We have exorcised most of the demons, cast upon the home by nefarious owners of the past who learned framing in a gravity-free environment.

In Kurt Vonnegut’s very funny Slapstick, the earth’s gravity fluctuates over eons, being unusually stable in the 20th Century. The story says this is how ancient people with no engines could build Stonehenge and the Pyramids, simply carrying great boulders and placing them.

Gravity must have also been on the lighter side in 1959 and 1997, when former owners Commodore Scrapwood and Dr. Coverup, respectively, slapped broken sticks and rusty nails on our home and quickly left town. At the end of Slapstick, the gravity fluctuations occur more quickly, with the last inhabitants of Manhattan Island alternating between crawling along and skipping lightly with boners. Like living through a remodel.

The latest demon (we’ll call him “Mitt Romney”) reared his darkened coif today when the builder installed windows. Pulling out the old windows on one side of the house took part of the wall with it and unveiled a rotten, termite-damaged wood sillplate. This section had been carefully covered up when the good Doctor did his 1997 space walk/remodel.

Luckily, a large crew of framers (we’ll call them “Jefferson, Madison, Hamilton and Franklin”) were on site and rebuilt the wall. We’re awaiting a large bill. Later this week, the siding starts.

Who knows which demon still lurks behind those walls? Not sure, but I know we’ll call her “Sarah Palin.”

Don’t stew with fury

2008-11-03T23:01:00.023-05:00

The windows came today.

Well, most of them. The critical windows did not.

Missing is the operable skylight for the upstairs bathroom. Until it is in place, the roof cannot be installed. From a timing perspective, however, we are in good shape: the metal roofing material is not yet onsite.

The other key elements yet to be delivered are the sliding glass doors needed to close in the great room, bringing in the view and sunlight while keeping in the heat. The great room was opened up to the elements on October 2.

Also missing is a big window for the downstairs bathroom and the sliding glass doors for the master bedroom.

What did arrive was wrong. We specified factory finish white interior. We got unprimed pine. We wanted satin nickel hardware. We got off-white. We wanted gliders. We got casement windows. And there is one window that must have been delivered to the wrong house, because there is no chance that ugly two-pane mistake is getting attached to this Casa!

It seems Alex did not refer to the window schedule Matt and I provided, nor did he write down or remember our instructions from the face-to-face conversations we had about windows. I guess he just guessed—and guessed wrong.

So I let out that deep, audible sigh—the kind that only a frustrated woman can make.

“Don’t stew with fury,” my husband advised.

Too late!

Renovation tip: Be sure to inspect the windows before they are installed to avoid getting a nasty surprise attached to your home. At least the windows sitting on our great room floor are the right brand and series, Anderson 400, so we can take small comfort that we did not get a quality and cost bait-n-switch.

Epilogue: Honey, love the one you’re with

Well, they are not the windows we ordered but now two of them are attached to my house, along with the new back door. We could see these improvements on Election Night because Willi the Electrician has begun putting in lights. Soon the space we call a walk-out basement will be referred to as a room.

I will accept progress with these windows rather than waiting who knows how long for the windows I expected.

Sunrise on Saturday

2008-11-01T19:59:00.022-04:00

From our master bedroom window, we watched the sun rise over the Feeney railing that Miguel and Jess installed on the deck this week. The sun was up by 7:47 a.m. and the framers, led by Chico, were here at 8 a.m. sharp to work on the downstairs.

It had been a long week of living in a construction zone. On Tuesday, wind and snow drove us to a hotel. Granted, it is a couple of lucky ’fugees who seek refuge at the Westin. The punch line? As Matt was soaping up his hair, the hotel ran out of water, putting an end to his hot shower.

Renovation tip: If you are living in your house during the building process, expect there will come a day when you cannot take it anymore. Maybe it will be the dust, the restricted living space, the cold or the general lack of sanctuary... Go ahead and get out. Consider it a mini vacation and have a great time!

On Thursday, October 30, Alex wrote: “…by middle of next week at which time the roof will be on (delivery was supposed to be today but was delayed!!!!!) And all the windows will be installed… I know it seems like its never going to get done, and that you are living like a couple of gypsies, but I will do all I can to finish and help in any way I can…”

In the meantime, I’ve been having that dream again—the one where wild animals come into the house and rummage through the cupboard, eating my organic cereal and getting into mischief.

Perhaps it is because there was a raccoon in our garbage can the other night, looking back at me when I opened the lid. Or maybe it is because a mother black bear and two cubs kept Miguel and his colleagues in their truck until the family wandered away. Conceivably, it is the sound of the wind rustling through the plastic because we do not yet have walls in the great room.

To help chase the dreams—and the critters—away, Matt put a sign on the pantry.

Sunday

This morning—after going to bed too late and getting up too early because Daylight Saving Time ended—we stepped outside to enjoy the new cable railings sparkling in the sun. Very satisfying.

Mascot

2008-10-25T18:04:00.013-04:00

New Jersey’s hockey players have the Devil. The local baseball team we cheer for has Mr. Met. The Jets have… well, I don’t really know what the hell the Jets have... The mighty Falcons of Bowling Green State University have Freddie & Frieda. Glen Rock High School once had a boy named Nick who dressed in what can best be described as a bear costume. Forests have Smokey. And the Casa de Roo renovation has Mook.

Mook cheered us on today when Matt decided that what he wanted to do to celebrate his birthday weekend was to clean. And clean. And clean. And clean. And clean. We hope this effort will inspire the sub-contractors remove the messes they create when they work on the house. (Steve Wasko’s crew tends to leave things pretty orderly… The other guys—when they do show up—not so much.)

Renovation tip: When buying a Shop Vac, get the one with the most powerful motor you can find. Be warned, however, if you select one with a HEPA filter because you’ll spend as much time clearing out the cartridge as you do cleaning up the room.

Mook is now watching over the house as 30-mile-an-hour gusts of wind propel rain against the thin plastic film the sub-contractors put up to “protect” us from the elements.

Epilogue: October 26

Hey, did ya notice the water coming in?

Why yes, Mook, I did.

Heck, the ceiling is still going drip-drip-drip into a green plastic salad bowl.

Yup. So much for the membrane protecting us before the long-overdue roof is installed. The water also came in around the side windows where the siding has been removed but not replaced. It dripped from the ceiling, ran down the walls, traveled from the upper to lower level of the house and even came in at the corner of our master bedroom.

Well at least breakfast smelled good.

Yeah, we made eggs and garlic hash browns from the baby potatoes we purchased from the hippies at the green energy festival.

Green energy… is that why it is so freakin’ cold in here—you turned off the heat to be “green?”

No. The oil boiler went out. Again. We noticed it at 5 a.m.

Captain Stupid strikes again?

Yes, Captain Stupid strikes again. The heating system is made up of Walterific spare parts… We’ve been working on this problem for eight years and now Matt gets to spend his birthday waiting for the furnace fix-it guy. Again.

Then why were you laughing?

We had Saturday Night Live on the DVR.

I’d have liked to watch SNL.

We’re trying to keep Mooks and Perps out of the master bedroom for the time being. No disrespek. Fuggettaboutit.

Nose hat

2008-10-23T21:46:00.007-04:00

“I need a nose hat,” I said, as Matt entered the bedroom after cheering the Devils on to victory. I was huddled in bed with only my eyes and nose showing. It was at most 50 degrees in the house. The heat wasn’t working and the wind was blowing through yawning spaces that we hope will one day contain large expanses of glass.

“People on this planet cannot wear nose hats because they would suffocate,” he laughed. “Nose hats only work on planets where people have blow holes or gills or both.” He was still laughing while piling more blankets on the bed and when handing me a Rusty Nail, which I tried to drink without exposing my fingers to the frigid air. This, too, made him laugh.

He disappeared for awhile; came back covered in dust and confirmed that the furnace still wasn’t working. This was no longer a laughing matter.

He had called the service yesterday morning with explicit instructions: go to the back of the house and see the work crew; come in and fix the furnace. Instead, they knocked on the front door and then left, not letting Matt know they perceived an obstacle to turning the heat back on.

Matt called the furnace service for an emergency visit and we debated checking into a hotel. I reminded him that I’d wanted to one day stay at an Ice Hotel, so this could be our trial run. (Note to self: do not book stay in an Ice Hotel.) Plus, I had a tiny space heater running and it was starting to make a small difference.

The night was too short, yet long enough for us to miss the calls from the furnace fix-it guy. It was a chilly morning. Matt brought coffee into the bedroom so I could stay in the semi-warmth and dress while imbibing in my liquid “on” switch.

When I left for work—left him with too many mooks, contractors and sub-contractors to coordinate—I felt like deadbeat wife. The stress of the renovation was starting to manifest itself physically. My stomach hurt. My chest thumped. My nerves frayed. My shoulders fused to my ears. And then I had to pick up my boss, drive him to work and launch myself into a series of meetings, deadlines and the usual corporate madness…

While I commuted, worried and worked, Matt systematically solved the problems. Then he headed to his own office to put in a full day.

The heat is on. (They guy who had been dispatched to our house in the middle of the night returned again in the morning; Matt apologized to him profusely.) Matt also shoved insulation into the gaping holes along the length of the great room and added layers of plastic to the back and front of the house. “I know how to deal with that cheap, crappy plastic now,” he explains. “You tape along the edge and then staple through the tape.”

The house is warm(er) and I am calm(er).

Memmmmmmmmm-Brain

2008-10-21T19:58:00.006-04:00

Words that start with “Me” are fun to say. Mesmerize. Megalomaniac. Melonballer*. Mets! Methuselah. Mermaid. Meritocracy. Membrane.

When I pulled into my parking spot tonight, I said “membrane” over and over again… because that was what I saw on the roof. The rest of the hideous and improperly installed brown asphalt shingles were in the dumpster, the blue tarp was gone and in its place was the black underlayment for the still pending silver metal roof.

If I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t have agreed to have the crew start pulling off the existing roofing material on October 2 without first seeing its replacement in a staging area on my property.

I shrugged in a “live and learn” sort of way, snapped some photos with my iPhone and headed inside because it started to rain. Now that I have a membrane protecting my home, I can scoff at the rain!

Membrane!

* Yes, I know this is two words: Melon baller. My internal Editor kept fixing it. But my Doppelganger un-fixed it to keep the humorous intent intact. Shhhhh! Do not tell my Editor.

We are at that point of the project now…

2008-10-19T15:53:00.010-04:00

…where we are getting pretty darn sick of the relentlessness of this renovation!

Perhaps it is no wonder, as we:

Started planning for this project even before we began house hunting.
Hired the first architecture firm in September 2006.
Began bidding the project in July 2007 to builders, most of whom mocked us for having a design that—even it if was executable—would cost us more than the value we’d ever reap.
Walked away from Jimmy and Anthony in January 2008, after their designs failed every test—from not following our instructions on paper to not being buildable in the real world.
Had our loan cut on February 1, thanks to the credit crunch that was building momentum to become the full-blown global crisis it is today.
Hired The Todd, another disappointing (but less expensive) architect, on February 17.
Undertook the downstairs demolition ourselves in March.
Learned that the problems behind the walls were worse than anticipated, and hired a structural engineer in April to help divine solutions.
Selected Steve Wasko as our builder, along with his partner, Alessandro Schiavone, on May 31.
Got permit approval on July 17.
Saw structural repairs get underway on July 28.
Freaked out when Wasko’s crew removed the deck on September 2 and rejoiced when rebuilding started right away.
Tried to maintain a sense of humor once construction moved upstairs on October 2. In terms of geologic time, it hasn’t been an era. In terms of quality of life—from not seeing the lake view because we lack windows to wind gusting through the plastic film to nails and other shrapnel on the floor to dust everywhere—it is relentless.
Tempered our tempers when there were visible signs of a lack of progress. On Friday, we came home to a “we missed you” sticker on the door regarding a plumbing inspection for our in-progress downstairs bathroom. Yesterday and the Saturday before, we got up early and evacuated our home so members of Alex’s crew could work. They didn’t make it either day. The lack of a roof is also impeding progress. We thought it was to be installed last week; last week, we thought it would be the week before… There is some sort of “blah-blah-blah back order” delay.

Coping mechanisms for Matt and me, in addition to laughing—a lot—include playing kissy face and huggy bear, making good use of Morris County’s lovely parks (today we had a picnic), keeping on top of all the details, making decisions in a timely fashion, watching our beloved HDTV in bed (while eating Stephen Colbert’s AmeriCone Dream™), “adult” beverages, support from family and friends and envisioning the project when it is finally complete.

We have stairs!

2008-10-14T19:40:00.019-04:00

I was on the mobile with my brother, Kenny, when I got my first glimpse—and started taking pictures with the phone!

Since I couldn’t find the downstairs lights (they were probably removed as part of the electrical demolition taking place this week), I used two flashlights to help with illumination.

Now instead of a straight, steep shot down, we have an “L-shaped” staircase uniting the main and lower levels. There are 10 steps, a landing that will also take us to the utility room, and then five steps into the walk-out basement. The last step is, however, a doozie as we are raising the floor level to bring us above the concrete slab. Yes, we will be adding insulation. (I feel cozy just thinking about it.)

This means access to the laundry room. Why just this weekend I finally took my Mother’s advice and went to the wash-n-fold, glad I could throw money ($43) at the lack-of-utility-room-access-causing-an-underwear-crisis situation.

I will admit it: When Matt and I were looking for places to cut costs, we had considered building these stairs ourselves. Luckily, we got over that insane notion and left the project to the professionals.

+ + +

Epilogue: 9:23 p.m.

When Matt got home, he took one look at the stairs and pointed out the obvious flaw: the landing bypasses the utility room. Hmmm...

The view from the boat

2008-10-12T22:28:00.005-04:00

On Saturday morning, we viewed the progress on the house—from the lake.

A hearty, “Damn it, Woman!”

2008-10-08T20:08:00.017-04:00

Matt snuggled back into bed to say, “You won’t want to read your Wall Street Journal this morning; economies are crashing around the world.” Of course, I didn’t follow his media blackout advice, and the news was indeed grim.

From The Wall Street Journal Online:

“The stock market’s prolonged tumble has wiped out about $2 trillion in Americans’ retirement savings in the past 15 months, a blow that could force workers to stay on the job longer than planned, rein in spending and possibly further stall an economy reliant on consumer dollars,” Congress’s top budget analyst said.
“Overall, the combination of the incoming data and recent financial developments suggests that the outlook for economic growth has worsened and that the downside risks to growth have increased,” Chairman Ben Bernanke said in a speech addressing the financial crisis.
The Fed said it will bypass ailing banks and lend directly to American corporations for the first time since the Great Depression, and it hinted strongly at further interest-rate cuts—a cocktail of unconventional and conventional remedies for an economy whose prognosis is deteriorating rapidly.

In today’s New York Times:

U.S. Markets Plunge Despite Hint of Rate Cut
Facing a Financial Crisis, European Nations Put Self-Interest First
Tokyo Shares Lose 9.4 Percent, Other Asian Markets Slide
With Bonds in Trouble, States Seek Federal Help

For me, the most apt statement was published in the Times on October 6:

This crisis doesn’t wear you down over time. It hits you over the head with a two-by-four. On a daily basis. –“Talking Business: A Day (Gasp) Like Any Other” by Joe Nocera

While our portfolio of love, passion, desire, friendship and fun is recession-proof, I felt a wave of nausea overtake me as I flashed on the numbers associated with the materials and labor going into this renovation. The dollar was worth less, so the project was costing us more. I shrugged, showered and watched the sun rise over the lake.

Just yesterday—and Saturday and Sunday—Matt and I were shopping for finishes and accessories we’d need in the near future. Every time, I’d gravitate to the most expensive item in the store. He’d respond in a variety of ways, the most effective being to utter a hearty, “Damn it, Woman!” He was right, of course; we don’t need the most over-priced item to make the house both cozy and cool.

Our Style Meister friend Barry has said the same thing to me many times. As in, “No, you cannot have the $900 Karbon faucet for the downstairs bathroom.” And Matt would say, “Listen to Barry.” And I’d hear them both, know they were right, and happily purchase a sleek-enough $98 chrome faucet at Lowe’s.

Perhaps the bank did us a favor by dramatically cutting our loan?

Nonetheless, progress on the project continues. For example, the barrier in the great room and our living quarters is currently down. We are already seeing a return on investment.

He tried to prepare me, but…

2008-10-06T22:39:00.014-04:00

While I was off at my company’s Atlanta office, spending two days with my wonderful colleagues, my valiant husband continued to manage the renovation.

We reached a critical moment in our now two-year-plus project...

The 20 hated skylights were gone, which meant the roof over the great room was, too. And so was the back wall where the bump-out and screened porch would go.

It was nearing midnight on Friday because the 5 p.m. flight home was, of course, delayed. (I got to fully experience coach while sitting on the runway in the middle seat.)

Pulling into our parking area, my headlights illuminated the debris on the roof, distracting me. I almost crashed into the dumpster. Our neighbors had obviously decided that it was OK to rob us by illegally dumping their crap in our expensive receptacle. This resulted in construction waste accumulating all over our property—inside and out. Yes, I was cranky and annoyed. (Lucky for them, I was too tired to carry out bloody vengeance.)

Once inside, I heard the rustle of plastic. I felt the wind. It was like being in a haunted house. Our great room was hidden behind a barrier. I had just enough space to make it to the bedroom. (It was exciting, in a disorienting sort of way.)

The next morning, Matt woke me up just before 8 a.m. because Alex Schiavone’s crew, led by Chico, was ready to get to work. We fled. (I still hadn’t seen much more of the house than the photos Matt e-mailed on Friday morning.)

The forecast called for blue skies. It rained for the first half of the day. That night—like the one before and after—was sleepless. The house was cold and the sounds unfamiliar. I kept dreaming our local raccoon was inside and getting into mischief. I’d awake, expecting to see his cute, masked face looking up at me from the foot of the bed. (The only creature stirring ended up being Matt, who couldn't sleep, either.)

Then the rain woke me up. There was a leak in the blue-tarped roof and the water poured in at the only place we truly wanted to protect: the fireplace mantle we designed. (It seems to have survived.)

Thankfully, Jean was kind enough to have a birthday, so we got to spend time celebrating with her. And our “Aunt” Theresa invited us over for Sunday dinner. It was nice to be away from the construction chaos!

Top deck is delightful

2008-09-28T10:27:00.004-04:00

Once they had completed the lower deck, the crew put up scaffolding and began framing the top deck, including the bump-out to expand the living area. With the top deck in place—and running the length of the house—the house now seems better proportioned.

In some light, the decking material is grey; in others the beige undertones are more prominent. In all light, the top deck is beautifully neutral. When viewed from the couch, the lake seems to begin where the deck ends.

The completed deck greeted us on our return from Seattle/Vancouver, and we immediately toured it in moonlight. This was invigorating, given the height of the structure and lack of railings. We were on it again this morning, too, despite the damp weather thanks to a tropical storm and Hurricane Kyle.

The deck design by our (second) architect had some fantasy-land elements. For example, he designed the deck above-and-beyond code requirements. Instead, we went with the typical 6”x6” posts and off-the-shelf brackets. The Todd also specified a cable tie bracing system for the deck that no one—including him—could figure out where to purchase. We’ll be going with typical lumber here, too.

And so in the heavy fog, we cavorted on the deck this morning, feeling happy and lucky to have so much outdoor living space. Turns out we aren’t the only ones who like our new deck, as evidenced by the paw prints left by Waschbär, our neighborhood raccoon.

Lovin’ the lower deck

2008-09-20T09:29:00.006-04:00

While we were off in Seattle and Vancouver, celebrating 12 marvelous years of marriage, Steve Wasko’s team was working.

After bringing down the dangerous deck, the team hand-dug huge holes for proper supports for the double-decker deck.

Steve suggested upgrading our decking, from regular TimberTech® TwinFinish® Plank in grey (“brushed” side up) to the version of the same product with the CONCEALoc™ Fasteners, for a hole-free surface.

Great call, Steve!

The crew finished the lower deck surface, complete with a step up to the area that will house the hot tub. In celebration, we took careful measurements and ordered the Cable Railing on Thursday.

Freakin’ out

2008-09-04T21:50:00.002-04:00

“Will I freak out,” I asked while opening my eyes on Wednesday morning?

“When I saw it yesterday, I went completely mental,” Matt replied.

When Tiffiny, our yoga instructor, saw it on Wednesday evening, she replied: “How bizarre!”

The deck was gone and it was a long way down.

The Wasko crew had planned to take the deck down in sections. It apparently gave no resistance. Seeing the pock-marked poles that once held up the decking was particularly unnerving.

Good riddance to bad structures!

Labor Day Weekend

2008-09-03T21:43:00.014-04:00

On Saturday morning, the flesh was willing but the mind was weak. There was something important we needed to do…

To help us think, we tuned the TV to classic rock. A few beats and gyrations later, the shoes were on and we were admiring work the crew did downstairs during the week. Hearing music through the floor also alerted us to the need for excellent insulation. Nothing less relaxing than being in a house where activities on one floor are audible in another area.

Then the labor began. We had already replanted any flora we wanted to save. So only slag plants would be in the new deck’s way. To keep the crew focused on the activities we cannot do, Matt dug out the raggedy rose bushes, which served primarily as deer food, while I carried away and stacked slate from the first section of walkway.

On Labor Day, we removed all the remaining items from the deck: basil, grill, bird feeders and weather station elements that became favorite roosting spots. Then we took off the pricey cable railing in hopes of finding for it some creative reuse.

When it was gone, I gasped: “Scary!”

“I like it,” Matt proclaimed. “Maybe we can put a net underneath to catch anyone who tumbles from the deck, leaving off the railing so nothing blocks our view.”

With each step, the deck began to shimmy and shake... The next morning, I saw that the corner support beam was beginning to collapse. Luckily, September 2 was to be the deck’s last day.

We need a new deck

2008-09-01T09:06:00.008-04:00

The prime feature of this property is our deck. The builder’s plan is to begin removing the structure next week to prepare the site for a double-decker deck.

Good thing, too. The decaying deck prevents us from hosting barbecues. The fear of having the supports fail—causing our beloved guests drop to their deaths—eliminates some of the fun of planning a party.

Improvements—and costs—continue downstairs

2008-08-31T08:17:00.011-04:00

On Wednesday, August 27, Matt and I got to say “hello” to foreman Miguel and worker Jorge, as well as meet Jan. We were discussing with Steve Wasko the additional work needed to shore up the bathroom area under our bedroom. Steve explained in Tuesday’s e-mail, “The sheetrock was removed today and there are some things that need to be addressed, which were not in the Engineer’s report.”

Once again, the structure was less sound than expected, adding another two grand to the project cost. In addition, Steve wants to see whether it is possible to lower the floor so we won’t need three steps to go up from the walk-out basement to the bathroom. This will require removing soil from the crawl space.

As Matt looked around that room yesterday, he re-envisioned the design, removing the side window and putting the sink in that spot, making the lake-facing window larger and swapping the placement of the shower and toilet. Much better.

The biggest improvement of the week is the exit. Before, we had to walk down a step to open the back door and then walk down another step once the door was open. It felt like falling out of the house. With the wonders of concrete and craftsmanship, this odd hole is filled, making a smooth transition from the floor to the door. We now step down to a couple sets of cinderblocks and onto the patio. The new deck, once installed, will make exiting better still.

The crew also put the old stairs back in place inside, making it easier to get to the utility room to do laundry.

A sign of support

2008-08-24T08:45:00.006-04:00

“It is like getting a new house from the inside out,” Matt said on Monday after we inspected the crew’s progress.

We never expected to be the kind of people who would allow a firm to advertise in front of our home, but the Wasko crew has proven themselves worthy. We’re proud to let our neighbors know what an awesome team we’ve hired.

Steve Wasko noted on Thursday that he, foreman Miguel and the rest of the crew are getting close to completing the major repairs identified by Harry’s structural engineering report, needing another week or so in the walkout basement before moving on to the bathroom area under our bedroom.

The team made more holes, this time in the utility room, and put in more lally columns—saving for me the tree trunk beams they had removed. They also pulled out the cheap PVC windows, shored up the structure and then put them back in. In addition, the team continued “sistering” the joists holding up the floor above, adding new framing to the existing crazy quilt.

New windows are on the way. On August 14 we met with Alex, Steve’s partner, to go over the project and write a big check so he could order supplies. We learned that his firm, Adriatic (which works with his father’s firm, Schiavone & Sons), also does commercial work, including Southern Hospitality, a restaurant for Justin Timberlake (American pop singer-songwriter, record producer, dancer, actor and participant in a notorious “wardrobe malfunction”) that opened last summer.

I know it is too early to say (and I call feel all of you who have been through a renovation are thinking: Just wait for the inevitable horrors ahead), but it feels to me like we’ve hired a construction Dream Team. They listen, care, show up, make progress and maintain an orderly work site.

Garden rocks and other treasures

2008-08-17T16:08:00.026-04:00

Steve Wasko, our builder, knew that I wanted the crew to save any interesting rocks they found on our site. Granted, we didn’t anticipate a pile of boulders to be located inside the house…

I was pleased and touched that they separated the nice rocks from the concrete chunks and rubble, interpreting their efforts as a clear example of caring about our needs and wishes. Matt imagined them all rejoicing because my request meant they didn’t have to move the heavy objects too far from the exit; the concrete and other waste needs to be carried up the steps and disposed of off site.

The crew also put aside two brown bottles they found while making way for the structural cinder block walls in the walk-out basement.

The stamp on both reads: “Federal law forbids sale or reuse of this bottle,” which according to a bottle dating site indicates they are machine-made liquor bottles sold in the U.S. between 1935 and 1964. We guess that the first addition was put on this house during the late 50s, and the time period for these bottles provides further confirmation.

The bottom of the rectangular bottle says:

Bloch Brothers (Distillers) LTD
Glasgow Scotland
A.G.W.

The Scotland Whisky and Distilleries site explained: “The Bloch brothers sold both distilleries to Hiram Walker in 1954.”

The round 4/5 quart bottle had something in common aside from contents. The bottom of the bottle reads:

Bottled by Hiram Walker & Sons
Made in Canada
Walkerville

(In 1856, the American whiskey mogul himself developed
this company town in Ontario; think “Canadian Club.”)

Canada

11 l ◊ • 4

Limited Bottle

Matt and I immediately added these treasures to our Casa de Roo museum and wondered whether the previous owner of this home-made house had a secret drinking problem that necessitated hiding his empties.

Nine days of progress

2008-08-09T11:29:00.012-04:00

There are times a picture is not worth a thousand words. This is one of those times. The improvements to the walk-out basement have been dramatic to see first-hand, yet none of my snapshots properly convey the progress of the first two weeks of work. (The crew is on hiatus from yesterday through next Friday.)

Removing the steps on August 4 uncovered a set of masonry stairs that seemed to once have been outdoors (and added another wrinkle to accessing the laundry area).

The interior wall on the south side of the house now benefits from cinderblock support that was done in such a workmanlike manner it is almost a shame to cover it up. Lumber framing is going in above, replacing the odd assortment of scrap wood. Our walk-out basement is being transformed into a real room—one with the structural integrity to hold up the rest of the house.

When Matt and I did the downstairs demolition, the air quality immediately improved—yet the problems our efforts revealed took our breath away. These issues are also taking more of our money away. The builder just discussed with Matt the need to do more fixes than we originally thought. There goes another two grand…

We’re convinced it will be worth it in the end. Heck, it already feels worth it!

Lally columns

2008-08-05T21:19:00.007-04:00

The Wasko construction crew has already made tangible progress on the structural work in the walk-out basement. We passed our first inspection on July 29, enabling the crew to pour QUIKRETE® 5000 Concrete Mix into the two large holes they made the day before.

In went the lally columns and the floor of the great room above already feels stiffer.

Structural repairs begin

2008-07-28T19:21:00.018-04:00

Steve Wasko and his two-man crew arrived this morning and set right to work.

They were 90 minutes earlier than we expected, and caught us making last-minute adjustments in the utility room. After removing a stunning amount of stuff, we tore down shoddy shelving that had served as a barrier between that level and the walk-out basement. Our goal was providing the team with maximum access to the suspect structure.

To reduce the noise, dust and disruption we’d experience in our living quarters, the team sealed off the stairs with a sheet of plywood. As a result, they cut themselves off from the only switch to the track lights in the utility room; our dirty clothes will now need to travel outdoors before arriving in the laundry area. We’ll all adjust.

The barrier proved invaluable as they cut through the concrete, yet fumes from the equipment still set off the fire alarm.

As I requested, the team saved the pine tree that had helped hold up the house—it had been set directly in the dirt and surrounded by concrete. Matt calls the reclaimed lumber “@#$#%&* firewood.” He is not the only one swearing: I pledge to somehow use this pole in the renovation! (Hmmm… I wonder how…)

We have a schedule

2008-07-27T20:06:00.008-04:00

Yesterday we met with our builder, Steve Wasko, to discuss the project once more. He did a walk-through of the house and took photos; Matt gave him another check (a big one this time).

Work begins tomorrow in the walk-out basement, unusable space we “staged” as a room. I had endeavored to work on my MBA in this gateway to the back yard in the days of cute purple iMacs. It was cold, damp and left me feeling like a cave dweller.

Necessity also drove us to use it briefly as a second guest bedroom. I believe one brave nephew (Nick) and one brave brother (STo) slept down there. I think I owe them both another apology!

While we learned the room wasn’t fit for man, demolition efforts demonstrated it has certainly been fit for beast. The renovation will claim this space for humans!

The preliminary schedule:

Tentative Start Date — 7/28/2008
Structural Repairs per Harry's report — 7/29/08 – 8/29/08
Deck Construction / Porch — 8/25/08 – 9/19/08
Standing Seam Metal Roof — 9/22/08 – 9/26/08
Door and Window Replacement — 9/29/08 – 10/24/08
HardiePlank Siding, Trim and Soffits — 9/29/08 – 10/24/08
First Floor Living Room Extension — 9/15/08 – 9/19/08
Basement Bathroom Shell Space — 9/22/08 – 10/10/08
Basement Stairs — 9/22/08 – 9/26/08
Site Stairs — 9/22/08 – 9/26/08
Electrical Rough-in and Trim — 9/22/08 – 10/10/08
Plumbing Rough-in — 9/22/08 – 10/10/09
Drywall Cutting and Patching — 10/6/08 – 10/10/08
Tentative Completion Date — 11/7/2008

Permit approval

2008-07-19T07:01:00.018-04:00

At 8 a.m., we marched hand-in-hand up the steps of the municipal building. This was our moment to write a check for $1,856. In return, we got to take home a yellow piece of card stock, which Matt has triumphantly posted in our window.

The building department approved our permit application on July 17. We picked it up on Friday. This is an exciting moment for the Casa de Roo renovation project. So exciting, in fact, that I couldn’t sleep. Hence the photo taken today at 5:55 a.m. off our dangerous deck.

The turn-around time for the permit was to be 20 business days. When we first tried to submit the packet, the administrator rejected us for filling out a key piece of paperwork incorrectly. So I had to give the electrical form to Wasko, our builder. About a week later, on Friday, June 6, Matt gave the bulging folder to the township. The countdown began. We hoped to get approval before the Fourth of July holiday.

Nope.

The town wanted one change: add permeability to our lot. Both architects warned this may be the case. We are chagrined. Not only does it add considerable cost to the project because we have to dig up the parking area and replace the asphalt with permeable pavers, I fear that allowing water to percolate through the wall holding back the hill is going to reduce its stability and cover the front in slime.

The Todd screwed this up from the start. The architect originally put 500 square feet of pavers in front of the house—about double the amount required. And he marked the area as “impermeable” on the drawing. The town engineer called him and explained the project needed 200 square feet of permeable pavers. The Todd called Matt and informed him that he’d submit a revised drawing to the town within a couple days. And Matt believed him.

Two weeks later, Matt called the town to determine the status of the approval process. He learned The Todd had still done nothing. On July 7, Matt rushed to The Todd’s office and then raced to the municipal building and dropped off the revised drawings. On July 10, our builder started hinting he had other projects that could bump our start date—we had expected to begin in July.

So Matt called the township—repeatedly—to plead our case. It worked.

On closer inspection of the approved packet, Matt realized The Todd had miss-drawn the permeable, putting us on the hook for more than double the square feet needed. What is it with architects and following directions?

Nonetheless, we have the permit approval in-hand!

Bronze Anniversary

2008-06-30T20:13:00.016-04:00

To celebrate eight wonderful years in Casa de Roo, Matt and I thumbed through our scrapbook capturing highlights from the first two years. It begins:

We discovered the home in mid-December ’99 and put in an offer right away.

The Weichart Realtors’ listing stated (and I quote):

True pleasure to show contemp lakefront with aal new + custom, very open, light & dramatic panaramic lakefront views, new top of the line kit…

I’m not sure what line the kitchen was at the top of, particularly since “Captain Stupid” (the previous owner) looted the dishwasher and stove, along with the washer and dryer, from what was about to become our home. He admitted as much when he finally arrived at the June 30, 2000, closing—four hours late. He also ’fessed up to abandoning several of his unwanted belongings, including an enormous rear-projection TV that Matt had to dismantle with a sledge hammer in order to get it out of the walk-out basement.

So we charged him several hundred dollars for the inconvenience. Our real estate agent had sent a sub-junior associate as her proxy; his real estate agent never showed up. The Captain’s lawyer was so mad at his client, he gleefully accepted our terms.

Drama aside, the house was now ours. We sped home and a local cop pulled us over for speeding. Explaining the situation got us off with a stern finger wagging. Finally, we arrived at the house to find the movers, my Mother-in-Law Jean and “Aunt” Theresa waiting (which they’d been doing for hours—after helping us move out of our condo that same day).

I was able to see the sun rise over the lake at 5:30 a.m. the next morning, July 1, 2000, because:

We learned that nature is noisy. Thump! Thump! Thump! And out we ran to find a huge crow hopping on our roof.

We learned a lot of other things, too. Such as:

Headless flowers lack charm. Thanks to the deer, stems are still a common feature in our garden. I was excited that our yard was a blank slate and after the July 2 maiden voyage of the orange mower (see top image, among the 2000 photos from the scrapbook; click to enlarge), I couldn’t wait to fill it with flowers. We’d wake up only to find the yard was once again a blank slate. We’re slowly learning to make wiser planting choices instead of annually adding to the deer salad bar.

We learned that Captain Stupid invited all his fishing buddies to use his dock and pee in his poison ivy infested arborvitae bushes at the shore line. So we spent our first several weeks chasing people off what was now our land. (Did ya meet the new neighbors? What a couple of A$$h013$!)

We learned that calling the house a three-bedroom was a misnomer. The 10’x10’ space downstairs, three steps up from the walk-out basement, next to all the noisy utilities, over the dirt floor crawl space and under the master bedroom, was better for storage than sleeping. Our two nights there while repainting the upstairs in January 2001 due to ice damming damage were likely to have been the only time that room ever served as a bedroom. The space is destined to become our second bathroom.

We learned that a fireplace insert doesn’t work if your chimney is installed incorrectly using materials that aren’t fire rated. (The Italian masons were cursing the Captain like mad, crossing themselves and gesturing wildly when they came down from the roof to tell me that if we had been able to light a fire, we’d have likely burned the house down.) Our first successful and safe fire crackled on December 1, 2000. Woodworker Michael Juras installed the custom mantle in May 2002, along with our kitchen island.

We learned that having 20 skylights is a really bad idea, even in a room that is 26’x16’. So we added the Unico System A/C and heating in May 2001. Still not enough. On August 2001, we added 3M Scotchtint Plus window film to the skylights. It still isn’t enough.

And we learned that, be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home!

Um, what is keeping up the roof?

2008-06-22T10:15:00.007-04:00

The home inspector missed it. Two architects missed it. And for years, we missed it, too.

Thanks to our demolition efforts, something caught my eye and led me to ask Matt, “Um, what is keeping up the roof?”

The drywall installer had done a nice job of accenting the large beam in our wall that went up to the roof ridge beam (click image to enlarge). One would expect that beam to continue bearing weight all the way to the ground. Not so. Instead, where the beam ends, there is a small single-pane glass window.

“Is this a problem,” I asked The Todd during our Friday night architecture meeting on March 28?

“Oh, I don’t like the look of that,” he replied. Like me, he wondered how he could have missed this condition. Of course, I had hoped my fears were unwarranted. Sometimes, it really sucks to be right.

This was another reason why we hired Harry (Harbhajan) Braich, President of Apex Group, Inc., to conduct a structural engineering inspection of our home. The builder we ended up hiring recommended Harry, having worked with him before.

A few of Harry’s observations on our home:

It is some 60 years or so old, one story house with multiple level basement and crawl spaces.
The house has undergone multiple renovations, additions and modifications over the years. Most of this work seems to have been done without proper design. Also, the work itself has been done in makeshift ways.
However, there is no visible settlement or cracking of the foundations. Hence, the foundations do look structurally adequate.

According to Harry, the following structural aspects need attention:

The deck is worn out and showing signs of age.
The main center beams in the first floor framing as seen from the basement are deficient. The beam running parallel to the street has a sister beam that is under-sized and has mid-span joints. The main beam is not supported at all on the right side and barely supported on the left.
The right wall at the basement is appreciably deficient. The wall studs are under-sized and with makeshift material. These are either broken or rotted and are spaced at too long spans. Also, most of them are not even connected at the bottom. The sheathing boards are rotting as well. The rotting is due to moisture penetration from the concrete masonry stairs running along this wall.
The center beam at the upper level of the basement is under-sized.
The whole of the framing and walls in the basement needs to be gone over.
The size of the main beam in the roof framing of the living area … does not have proper supports at both ends.
There are cracks in the sheet rock under the beam support in the middle. These cracks are the result of the under-sized support beam.
Also, there are cracks in the master bedroom. These are the result of header fasteners being loose / of less than required adequacy.
There is a slope in the first floor. The slope is due to modifications not having been done with proper workmanship. Also, the joists and beams being under-sized or less than required adequacy, as noted above.

Addressing these issues adds about $25,000 to the price of the project (in addition to the engineering fee). I’m anticipating we will consider the fixes “priceless” and cannot wait to get started. But wait we will. The town has now had our permit application for 10 business days; they say to expect a 20-day turn-around.

Aggressive solar

2008-06-07T23:26:00.025-04:00

My husband brought my over-sleeping to an end this morning at 8:50 a.m. by informing me that the Imaginary Chipmunk was back. The striped critter occasionally scurries through the great room, easily entering via our faulty foundation.

Usually, only I see him. Once he stopped by when my Mother-in-Law was joining us for lunch. Now Matt “imagined” him, too. Where he is now? No clue. I’m guessing he came in to escape heat only to learn there really was no escape. Like us, he probably fled outside to survive the 96°F weather.

I’m a lover, not a hater. There is one thing that does, however, negatively inflame my passions: the 20 skylights in our great room. I assure you that this feature is hate-worthy. Oh skylights, how do I hate thee? Let me count the ways (with apologies to Elizabeth Barrett Browning):

I hate thee for your length and width and height as you disrupt my morning and ruin my sight. Let me explain. I wanted to ease into the day before tackling my chores. Get properly caffeinated, see a few home shows, eat a bowl of cereal and chat with my husband… Tough to do when you are blinded by the light. Glaring sunlight. Through each ridiculous skylight (as shown in the Photomerge™ image above; click to enlarge).

I hate thee for the level of every day’s most uncomfortable heat, by sun and into night. For example, during the winter, it was 80°F in the room on a day when there was snow on the ground. Today at 3:40 p.m., it was still 95.5° outside—and 80° inside after a full day of running the AC and keeping the shades down. At almost mightnight, it still 76.6° indoors. Balmy! These skylights do not provide the eco-benefit of passive solar—they radiate at us with aggressive solar! How much environmental damage have these roof windows wrought? How much money have they cost us as we try in vain to condition the air in our home?

I hate thee purely, as ye let in the rain. With the setting of the sun, we saw the storm in “stereo” on both the local weather channel as a green blob and out our windows. Across the lake, neighbors presented an impressive fireworks display, with thunder as applause and lightning as the crescendo. Then came the rain down—and the rain came in.

Hopefully, it won’t be too much longer until the builder slays my nemesis; Matt dropped off the permit application at the municipal building department on Friday. Sonnet 43 says it best: I shall but love thee better after thy death.

We hired a builder!

2008-06-01T12:22:00.020-04:00

On Saturday, May 31, we wrote our first check that will pay for something other than more pieces of paper. We handed $5,000 over to Wasko Construction, LLC, the official builder for Casa de Roo!

It was with immense glee that I shook hands with Stephen Wasko and Alex Schiavone to seal the deal! Permit process permitting, we believe the project can officially begin in July.

This big step was preceded by scores of other steps. Here is a trip down memory lane:

2006

Coming up with a Manifesto for the project, titled, “Everywhere you look, Beauty!”
Looking for and interviewing architects. (Process beings in February)
Hiring Lakeland Surveying, Inc. to provide a topographical survey. I pick it up with my brother, STo, who is visiting from Ohio. For well over a year, this drawing represents the only value Matt and I receive for money spent on our dream house project. (Drawing dated July 12)

Writing the first retainer check to the selected architecture firm. (September 11, 2006)
Getting “as built” drawings of our home as it currently stands.

2007

Drafting, drawing and dreaming, only to find the design is more than double our budget.

Lopping features off of the house.

Sending the revised design out for bidding…

Learning the project is still more than double. (Thus the more elaborate design must have been at least triple our budget.) We also learn from the builders who are bidding that the direction the architecture firm is sending the project is rife with impracticality!

Taking matters into our own hands by redesigning the house ourselves, using Photoshop.

January 2008

Discussing the scaled-back design with “Local Guy,” the builder we were pretty sure we’d hire; his estimate is still tens of thousands of dollars over budget—and missing key elements (like carpeting) that make a house a home. (January 11).

Explaining the project to Steve Wasko and Alex Schiavone, who lack that “deer in headlights” look other contractors and builders seem to exhibit when they see our site. They offer some interesting ideas and practical advice. (January 18)

February 2008

Losing debt-spending power thanks to America’s credit crunch because the bank has dramatically reduced our HELOC. (February 1)

Realizing I was seduced by my own dream house Manifesto—and used it to seduce others into seeing my vision (some would say sharing my hallucinations). It was a case of champagne dreams and caviar wishes—on a Krogh’s Brew Pub budget. I learn to embrace the ranch house vernacular.

Interviewing a replacement architect. (February 4)

Meeting with Dan Keller of George J. Keller and Sons. He brings samples of roofing, siding and decks, promising: “We can do it all for you.” (February 22)

March 2008

Hiring Todd Lendt to provide drawings for Casa de Roo. We explain to The Todd that because I follow the principle of, “that which isn't forbidden is allowed,” part of his job is to say “no” to what Matt calls my “hair-brained schemes.” (March 1, 2008)

Sending a request for bid with a partial set of close-to-final drawings, along with our list of expectations, to “Local Guy,” Keller and Wasko. (March 14)

Renting a dumpster enables us to begin doing demolition ourselves. (March 15)

Having only one builder meet our March 24 deadline for bids: Wasko. (March 22)

Showing The Todd some of our structural concerns; he believes we should hire a structural engineer, which we agree to do following further demolition. (March 28)

Interviewing Ali (AKA, “The Chem”), a potential builder recommended to us by the father of a friend. We give him an opportunity to bid. (March 29)

April 2008

Welcoming arrival of the second dumpster. (April 4)

Showing foundation issues we’ve uncovered to Wasko; Steve suggests we hire a structural engineer and recommends Harry Braich of Apex Group, Inc. (April 4)

Getting final drawings from The Todd. (April 12)

Dispersing drawings to Keller, Wasko, The Chem and Local Guy for bidding; also sending a copy to Harry. (April 14)

Having Harry do first round of structural inspections. (April 17)

Having Harry do another, more in-depth round of inspections to our home, resulting in the Structural Engineering Report. (April 22)

Reviewing revised bid from Wasko, which doesn’t include structural work. It is several thousands of dollars more than what we had hoped to spend, but not totally out of the question. (April 26)

Reviewing estimate from Keller. It lists out all the work to be performed, but doesn’t have a cost breakdown. (Structural issues aren’t included.) We feel confident that his firm would do a good job, and we like Dan; however, the price comes in at about $65,000 above what we had hoped to spend. (April 30).

May 2008

Discussing the bid from Local Guy, while showing him the work we’d done in terms of demolition. His bid includes cost breakdowns and allowances. The cost, however, is about $115,000 more than what we hoped to spend for the stripped down version of our plans, and that is before he addresses structural issues. The price seemed to be jacked up to cover the “pain and suffering” he believes our site causes, to which we have often remarked (behind his back, of course): “Quit your whining Local Guy.” Even though I like and trust the guy, his firm is not getting the job. I feel strangely sad. (May 2)

Reviewing the structural bid from Wasko confirms that our problems will require about $25,000 to fix, a price higher than but not that grossly out of line with Harry’s estimate. (May 7)

Bidding au revoir to The Chem. Since meeting him, he disappeared more than once, making seemingly unscheduled but emergency trips to Florida. He has no business card. While his price on the May 6 bid is low, we wonder: At what cost? For example, his proposal only provides numbers covering labor; he wants us to buy all materials. We’d seen enough episodes of Holmes on Homes to know this isn’t the builder for us. (Mid-May)

Meeting between Wasko and Matt is very productive. (May 16)

Insulting our taste seems to be the way Helen thinks she is going to gain us a client. Um, let me back up a moment. I met a guy at a party who had a wife who knew a contractor who installed metal roofs. Seemed like a good contact for us to have. Helen showed up with the potential roofer for a meeting with Matt. Not only was her presence in our home unexpected, her opinions about the décor choices for our home were uninvited.

The way Matt tells it, she made known that our color choices were inappropriate for how she felt we should live. Although our home is currently various shades of purple, she suggested we should be featuring rust. Note: We are not a fan of this color family. We will be installing a standing seam metal roof. She thought this was the wrong approach. Why not Mediterranean-style tiles that are actually made of metal? Note: We don’t like one building material impersonating another. If you are not made of clay, don’t pretend to be. If you are composite decking, don’t sport a wood grain. We are not building a faux château. Matt explained our design would continue to be “cozy modern.” She disagreed with this choice. Meanwhile, her roofing contact failed to bring product samples. Will we be hiring this pair? No, we will not. Especially since they never followed up. (May 16)

Hiring Wasko for both the structural and renovation work, which ought to make both phases of the project come together seamlessly. Part of reducing costs involves Matt and I doing some of the work ourselves. We are ready to roll up our sleeves! (May 31)

Lakefront living

2008-05-26T09:44:00.005-04:00

When we first put an offer on this house in 1999, I described the domicile as a “roof and a deck.” The image (photo taken at 7:20 this morning; click to enlarge) shows how the lake side looks now and The Todd’s design for the renovation, which includes two decks.

There will be a screen porch off the dining area, the living area will be bumped out slightly and we’ll reduce by 18 the 20 skylights in the great room. In the master bedroom, we’ll replace the code violating, non-functioning bay window with a sliding glass door to give us access to the deck—a feature we’ve enjoyed at many a vacation spot.

The non-level concrete patio at the lower level will remain under a new, larger deck. The back door will no longer be below floor level (currently a tricky trip hazard). The hot tub will be placed nearby. “Hanging out” steps will provide a transition to the back yard and less obtrusive bracing will stabilize the upper deck.

We have rationalized the design from what it was about a year ago. It now focuses on what is important: the decks and the roof.

Full Frontal

2008-05-25T15:11:00.010-04:00

We stepped away from our original architecture firm because they consistently failed to provide buildable, cost-effective plans (instead indulging every whacky idea I could dream up). It was a relief to end the nightmare by cutting our considerable losses and moving on. We met with the replacement architect, Todd Lendt (AKA “The Todd,” at least to me), on February 22 and hired him on March 1.

For those of you who say you like the house the way it is, you are in luck: We are no longer changing much. Especially now that I’ve embraced the ranch house vernacular—and lost some of my power to go deeply into debt thanks to the credit crisis.

The image (click to enlarge) shows our home in its current state (created via Photoshop® Photomerge™ panorama, hence the jagged edges). The hot tub waits under a blue tarp for construction to begin (kind of like my psyche). The drawing (from April 8) shows the new design for the front, which isn’t too different from the PowerPoint picture we cobbled together in September 2007 because we asked The Todd to execute our vision and to focus on practicality (even when I myself don’t, which is often).

Downstairs demolition 8: If these walls could talk

2008-04-30T20:42:00.004-04:00

We uncovered a lot of things inside our walls. None could be considered treasures, although a few artifacts were more interesting than gross.

We found a shuttlecock, two broken ping pong paddles, rusted ax head of no historical significance, along with (click image to enlarge) a:

Chipped 1950s Pepsi bottle (worth $7.99 on eBay if in mint condition); the label claims the product is “Sparkling.” Found in the corner past the steps on March 23.
Small bottle of somewhat coagulated Fargent linseed oil (which yielded no hits on Google); it sported a big green thumbprint. Found underneath the stairs on March 30.
Scrap of newspaper announcing the sale of a ’51 Plymouth for $1745, aerated with nail holes. Found in the corner past the steps on March 30.
Delicate tea cup, made in Japan. Found on April 5 stuffed full of insulation in the corner of the utility room under the stairs.

When we tore down the ceiling in the walk-out basement on April 12, we also pulled out old ducts—and found a rubber ball about the same circumference as the duct’s diameter, which explains why that corner of the house was especially cold before we installed the Unico HVAC system with its own mini ducts.

If these walls could talk, it wouldn’t make for much of a show.

Downstairs demolition 7: Crazy-quilt

2008-04-30T06:41:00.009-04:00

We had hoped to salvage some of what we detached from the house. No such luck. That the materials were rotted, moldy, covered in rodent evidence or soil wasn’t the only problem…

Rather than using wall studs for the framing, the previous owner saved natural resources and money by jerry-rigging a mélange of wood scraps. It seemed like an absurd amount of extra exertion, but we had evidence that these were people with a penchant for patchwork.

Is wasn’t a good sign to hear Harry the structural engineer exclaim: “I don’t know why these walls didn’t cave in!” Harry showed us where, instead of using 2”×4” or 2”×6” dimensional lumber, a previous owner used door jambs. They also failed to use joist hangers—an 80-cent piece of metal—to secure the ceiling, instead toe-nailing into the beams and cracking the edges of the wood.

Calling Casa de Roo a “Home-made home,” Harry adds that he sees this kind of thing all the time, particularly in little lakeside communities.

Most exasperating, perhaps, is that this hodgepodge wasn't tied together into a structural system. Beams didn't transfer weight from ceiling to floor, there were places where sections had been removed or otherwise ended randomly, and there was a creative use of shims. Each section of the faux framing has its own quirks and character; above are a few highlights from the crazy-quilt (click on image to enlarge).

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