A hearty, “Damn it, Woman!”

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…

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!

And then, the tears

Several trusted friends reviewed the latest set of architectural drawings. We got some good advice:

• David suggested we retain the architect’s window scheme downstairs, which went down to the floor (our sketch didn’t), because we’d appreciate the view and light—especially when doing yoga.
• Bob told us not to limit the useful space of the screened porch by adding a door to the deck. There is plenty of outdoor access from the nearby great room.

Yet the more people I talked to, the more I thought: This is just a ranch house! What the hell did I hire an architect for? Why did I spend these big bucks?

Friday, October 19, heavy winds scattered heavy rains and rivulets ran through the skylights and down my wall. (As the above photo of the great room shows, the unwanted water feature returned the morning of Saturday, October 27.)

These weren’t the only waterworks. I couldn’t get the original drawings out of my mind. The roof deck. The curved roof. So I looked up with teary eyes and threw out a trial balloon: how about a curved roof over the screened porch?

My poor husband gave me a look of, “Oh no! Not more follies by the wife! These ‘big ideas’ are why the so-called ‘dream house’ project is in month 13—with nothing to show for it!”

Folly avoidance was one of the key reasons we choose Jimmy Dumas Architecture. He explained that his firm had build capabilities, so his drawings wouldn’t only serve in the role of artwork, they’d be workable. His literature entitled, “Benefits in the Use of Design-Build,” states:

Early Knowledge of First Costs — Because the entity responsible for design is simultaneously estimating construction costs and can accurately conceptualize the completed project at an early stage, guaranteed construction costs are known far sooner than is otherwise possible. This … avoids the possibility of committing substantial time and money for design, only to learn that the cost of the project is prohibitive.

This paragraph describes the level of service we had expected—and details the opposite of what we have experienced. Not once did Jimmy or his subordinate push back and say, “Great idea. Here are the resulting cost and logistical implications. We suggest doing ‘X’ instead.” So we believed the drawings they presented to us were precursers to the home we would live in. Instead, after two design concepts and “committing substantial time and money,” we “learn that the cost of the project is prohibitive.”

We shared the architect’s drawings of our scaled-back project with Local Guy, currently our top choice for general contractor. He said, “Looking at these drawings, I cannot begin to guess at what your architect is intending. There is no information here. Even the floor plans are vague” because they lacked even the bare minimum in details, such as a scale. So Matt and I got on the phone with Jimmy: When would we get “real” drawings? He stated in a subsequent e-mail, “I want to have the final sealed bid/permit drawings by Monday, November 5th.”

Epilogue to the deadline drama

This chapter of the deadline drama which began on Friday ended about 21.5 hours later.

Jimmy called yesterday while I was showering; he’d be here in five-plus minutes. I decided to shampoo slowly and let Matt and Jimmy meet mano-a-mano. He hadn’t yet heard Matt’s voicemail, so my husband gave him a heads-up.

The drawings he delivered followed our direction and, thus, are very close-to-final. And the shell-only estimate was closer to our idea of an appropriate budget.

Relieved, we headed off to our 10 a.m. play date at Rockaway Lanes with Karen and George. And I’d never before knocked over so many pins! Could it be due to the relief of making progress on our project?

Later we were dining al fresco on the deck, sitting on furniture they helped us assemble seven years ago. Taking in our view, I spied something odd in the lake. A deer—swimming! Another quirky reminder why we love it here, and why this home is worth preserving and improving.

Getting bids from builders

In July, we thought the drawings were finally at the point where we could put the job out for bid. Even though the bid set wasn’t 100 percent complete, we were beyond ready to experience some progress on this project.

Would there still be time to get the house ready for Thanksgiving 2007, our original completion deadline?

July 26 — We met with Local Guy. We see his truck and his signs everywhere. He’s the neighborhood builder and his worksites always look pristine. His projects seem to get completed at a reasonable pace. He left me with a strongly positive impression. He epitomized the mental image I had of a competent contractor.

July 27 — Tall Guy, who looks Dutch to me, is another local with a design/build firm. We’d observed his work, too. A tad pompous, he seemed to know his stuff.

July 31 — Steve-O’s Guy was builder number three. Steve-O is an electrician extraordinaire. We figured that if anyone knew a good builder, he would. And his guy was a viable candidate.

August 4 — Jimmy and Guy #1 met with us. Unlike the other three builders, John seemed unfazed by the site. He’d built in places like Colorado. He showed me pictures of his wife and of his beautiful daughter, who works with him. We bonded. I thought he was also a good candidate for our project.

September 18 — Jimmy and Guy #2 met with us. Why was there a #2? Well, it seems that #1 disappeared. Poof. Gone. Never to be heard from again. Weird, huh? But Paul seemed OK, even though we didn’t get a good sense of his background.

No matter who we picked, we’d need to check references and get a full understanding of how the builder worked with his trades (for example, did his subs get paid on time?) and how long he worked with the members of his crew. We’d want to visit a live work site (was it neat? Or a disaster area?). We’d need to know his insurance checked out. And all the other issues we learned about by being devotees of Mike Holmes’ show, Holmes on Homes.

The main thing was that we were making progress. Or so we thought.

Still more than double

Since I hadn’t added to this site for 111 days, I began rereading this blog… and it seems our current situation is, as Yogi Berra says, “déjà vu all over again.”

On March 9, we learned that the house the architecture firm had sketched for us was more than double the stated budget. So we scaled back from the original vision. A lot. And it was making me feel both stupid and cheated.

On September 11, we “celebrated” the first anniversary of sending a retainer check to the architecture firm. The day before this, we got the cost estimate from Jimmy. It was $150,000 over budget. Interestingly, all three of the other builders came in higher—at double our budget. Which seems to indicate that the original design was more than triple our budget.

Tall Guy had lambasted the drawings as being impractical and idiotic; that the glazing was out of control and that the structure made no sense. Steve-O’s guy said he really wanted his estimate to come in on budget, but it wouldn’t be possible because of the windows and the way the engineering had been established.

Local Guy was more specific. He had some observations and some theories:

• All of the windows were custom sizes; the architect priced this at $37,500 for windows alone. All Pella. We’ve heard terrible things about Pella quality. Two of the builders we interviewed called the brand crap.
• And Jimmy had estimated another $37,000 for the operable glass wall to open up the hot tub room. I went online and found several competitors to the NanaWall. Using the specs the architects had on the drawing, the La Cantina version was $16,866. By choosing a standard versus a custom size, the price became $10,331. I learned this via two e-mails after looking up an advertiser in dwell magazine. Just like that, I saved $26,669.
• The siding was a mystery to him. Later, we investigated. Parklex® is from Finland. Swisspearl Rainscreen is, you guessed it, Swiss. And a rainscreen façade system wasn’t something the local builder was familiar with. So, from a carbon footprint perspective, these two products—which we never approved—were an environmentally burdensome choice due to shipping. From a weak U.S. dollar perspective, they were a costly choice. And from a how-the-hell-do-you-install-it perspective, they were an unworkable choice.
• He assumed the guy with his name on the door wasn’t managing his subordinate.
  Postscript: The underling is off our project. Jimmy says he is now taking charge.
• Noting there was a ridiculous amount of steel being specified, he thought the engineering was better suited for commercial than residential.
  Funny story #1: When we mentioned to Jimmy that the other three builders cited the structure as being overblown for the use, he quipped that we must be talking to residential builders. To which we replied: This is a residence!
  Funny story #2: The underling specialized in footings for buildings in Manhattan. So skyscraper infrastructure is his background. No wonder we could build the Freedom Tower on our site.

East elevation

It was clear we needed to take matters into our own hands. Matt reconceived the project to ensure we would finally be on budget. I provided Jimmy with our drawings, done in Photoshop, on September 25 and 30. Jimmy promised to get back to us with revised elevation and floor plan drawings by noon on Friday, October 12 (13 months into the project). Above is the lake side of the house.

• The four-season porch becomes a screen porch. The operable glass wall now separates the expanded dining area from the porch.


• The windows in the enlarged great room are no longer 14 foot high walls of glass. I never understood the scale of the drawings until Matt took out his tape measure and showed me. Yikes! These extra-tall windows facing the sun will not solve the glare problem this room currently suffers from.


• The lake-view bedroom doesn’t change in size; it just gets a door to the deck.


• The hot tub room is eliminated. The hot tub moves up to the deck and sits outside the lake-view bedroom.


• What I’m calling a lanai—because I like the word—now sits outside the expanded flex space, which will be designed for yoga and partying.


• The downstairs bedroom grows from a space without a closet and barely big enough for a nursery into a proper master bedroom.


• Here’s how it looked before.

West elevation

This is the front of the house.

• Dormer is removed. Local Guy explained to us the damage this structure would do to parts of the house we never planned to change, namely the bathroom and the kitchen.
• Unwanted new window in the bathroom is eliminated; the existing skylight is replaced.
• Location of the door is moved to the left of what it is on the existing house.
• Glass awning over door replaces the structure Jimmy’s subordinate had championed.
• Kitchen window is replaced from a bay style to something we won’t brain ourselves on when we walk by.
• Once and for all, we eliminate any reference to asphalt shingles.

Here’s how it looked before.

South elevation

The right side of the house (when facing the front)

• There is no longer a flat roof over the front door.


• The useless parapet is removed from the area above the dining room. This feature was meant to make the house look more “modern” when the neighbors view it from their deck. The other purpose it presumably served was to trap leaves.


• The screen porch becomes a more useful size, as does the flex / yoga / party space.


• The stairs are completely replaced, not repaired the way the subordinate specified. They are barely salvageable now; imagine how trashed they’ll be as a result of the construction process—which will utilize this side of our house as the main point of access to the back yard.


• The hot tub room becomes the lanai (yes, I do love to use that word and no, I do not care that we’re nowhere near Hawaii).


• Here’s how it looked before.

North elevation

The left side of the house (when facing the front)

• The front bedroom continues to remain unchanged.


• Steps are added to make access better for the oil delivery guy.


• A downstairs bathroom is added, using existing storage space.


• Master bedroom “holds up” the deck where the hot tub will go.


• Instead of an “art screen” the subordinate designed to delight our next door neighbors, who would be the only ones who can see it, we’re simply adding a privacy wall.


• Here’s how it looked before.

The house as it stands today

Yesterday, our reward for a glorious morning of gardening was touring the lake in the pride of our fleet: Spacey P. The photo above shows the shore view of the house, which helps provide an orientation for the desired south elevation.

From here you can see the 20 leaky skylights over the great room, as well as the structure struggling to hold up our deck. The white house above is that of our across-the-street neighbor, whose view we won’t be blocking with our design because we are adding onto the back rather then building higher.

East elevation

Given that the front side of the house is below street level, the lake side is where we get curb, um, shore appeal.

As we swung the cleaver to cut off cool but costly features, we worried: would the end result look butchered? The initial look-and-feel was dwell Magazine worthy. Would the redesign be better suited for dull Monthly (Just imagine the headlines: “Debate resolved: square footage trumps taste and style every time,” “10 reasons why moving to a McMansion is worth the potential foreclosure,” “From trailer trash to gated community goddess: one woman’s story,” “Al Gore is a bore,” “Taupe is the ‘new’ beige”)?

Well, since we approved the drawing, we certainly hope not. Here’s what our architect, Anthony, came up with for us (click image above to enlarge):

1. Four-season porch (click image and see #6 for a side view), which will open up to expand the dining area of the great room.

2. Living area of the great room (click image to see #10 for the floor plans).

3. Deck, which sits two steps below the great room and one step below the master bedroom to enhance the lake view.

4. Master bedroom.

5. Privacy screening (click image and see #9 for a side view).

6. Exterior steps uniting the front and back of the property.

7. Hot tub room (click image for floor plan, see #9).

8. “Hanging out” steps that make the transition from hot tub room to yard.

9. Covered exit to the back yard.

10. Guest bedroom.

So, what do you think: dwell or dull? Other feedback or advice? Feel free to comment (just click the link below; you can post anonymously).

South elevation

Here is how the side of our house should look following our upgrade (click image to enlarge):

1. Overhang over the front door.

2. A set of windows now obscured by a permanently lowered shade will be removed to make way for storage, art or both. The current view is under the neighbor’s deck. Not a pretty sight, I assure you.

3. Dormer.

4. Window for the great room (click image for an inside view, see #10).

5. Although the roof appears flat, this is just a modern façade. The real roof has a pitch appropriate for New Jersey weather.

6. The four-season porch.

7. An overhang will provide sun protection, reducing our dependence on air conditioning.

8. The main deck.

9. The hot tub room.

10. Flex space that can be used for a library or simply to party (click image for an inside view, see #4).

11. The homegrown masonry steps are great for chipmunks, but a bit random for human footfalls. The rise and run will become uniform.

North elevation

Unless you are the oil delivery guy or our maintenance-phobic neighbors, this is the least important view of the house (click on image to enlarge). We just use this side to access the only remaining working outdoor faucet, as the cold winter burst the ones on the deck and in the back. (Captain Stupid* says: “Insulating exterior waterpipes is over-rated.”)

Here is a quick rundown of what this image represents:

1. The terraced garden, which we’ve now filled with bamboo and a few other plants. We’d tried making this a vegetable garden; it ended up being a salad bar for deer. Not the best use of our money or time. (It only took us seven years to learn this lesson.)

2. An overhang will protect us while we enter the front door.

3. This new dormer provides some curb appeal and sunlight for the upstairs bathroom (click image, also #3).

4. Existing guest bedroom; used as my husband’s dressing room.

5. New downstairs bathroom (click image, also #5), which retains an existing window.

6. New guest bedroom.

7. Slope of the hill from lower level to upper level.

8. Main deck.

9. Master deck, with much-needed visual protection from the neighbors. (They probably feel the same way about us.)

10. Chimney. The house remains at its original height.

* Captain Stupid is our nick-name for the previous owner of this house, a do-it-yourself wronger.

Upper level layout

As I sit baking in the solar heat on a cool spring morning, I console myself: we’ll soon jettison Captain Stupid’s 20 skylights as part of transforming this leaky lake house into a modern dream home. In fact, since moving in on June 30, 2000, we’ve been undoing a lot of what the previous owner, a do-it-yourself-wronger, wrought upon this poor domicile.

Now that we have approved the floor plans (click on image to enlarge), there should be less glare in our future. Here’s a quick tour:

1. The front door is moved to the right so instead of a view down the stairs, you get a sweep of the great room and out to the lake.

2. As part of our “don’t fix what isn’t broken” philosophy, we plan to leave the kitchen largely “as is.”

3. Bathroom gets a window and an appropriately-sized soaking tub.

4. Guest bedroom remains unchanged.

5. I get a bigger walk-in closet. (I may even share it with my husband.)

6. Master bedroom becomes a tad larger as we bump the house out towards the lake.

7. We’re adding a door to the deck from the bedroom.

8. Main section of the deck sits upon the lower level, rather than on rotting posts.

9. Two steps up into the four-season porch.

10. Great room should now have plenty of room for dinner guests and an L-shaped couch.

Even though we had to scale back our plans in order to afford the project, we believe this new design will meet our needs. What do you think?

Lower level layout

Taking laundry down the steep steps this morning, I smiled thinking about the plans we’d recently approved (click image to enlarge). In the future, I would be schlepping under improved conditions (1).

What will change? The first step is 10 inches down, the rest are seven inches. Now I take 12 steps, turn left, turn left and then turn right into the mechanical room (2, which remains unchanged). The new landing (3) over the flex space / library party / room (4) should make this particular chore less treacherous.

This approach to the lower level was a cost-saving move—no longer will the stairs wrap around the fireplace (click image); instead they’ll stay in the same place but become wider (more than 31 inches; the laundry basket is 25 inches wide) and safer (every step will have the same rise and run).

In a room that the real estate agent called a third bedroom but is barely good enough for storage, we’ll finally get our second a bathroom (5). A friend had done this drawing for us ages ago, but we couldn’t find a plumber willing to take on the job because of the mysteries contained within the walls.

In new space we’ll have an actual third bedroom (6). To the left is a mud area (7) to complete the transition in from the back yard, which begins with steps ideal for hanging out (8).

Cost-cutting put the ax to our swimming pool. But we’ll still get a luxury water feature: a custom hot tub (9) in a room that can open completely to the back yard (10), with the continuation of the hanging-out steps leading to a patio (11).

Instead of cold, dreary space staged to look like a room but used only as a hallway to the back yard, we’ll have usable space to play. Want to party with us?