A few days of fabulous weather were a good omen for us to start our flooring of the second floor. Before we could start, however, I had to attend to some final nailing, some shimming, and cutting and installing 2x8 gussets that will support the roof. This was a bit more difficult than I imagined it would be (it seems I have a variation of that statement in just about every journal entry I write). At any rate, it got done, and Anne took a few days off so we could get some flooring down. Day one was a bit of a letdown. As an old basketball coach used to yell at me: “Popovic, if you were going any slower you would be in reverse!” Things just didn’t flow like we had hoped. It was so bad that we had to console ourselves with some Thai food. As the old saying goes, “When the going gets tough, the tough get curry.”
The second day went much better than the first as we covered most of a future bedroom. More importantly, we came up with a plan for the rest of the flooring, and picked through all of our remaining floorboards, which are now organized by which room they will eventually cover. This will really speed things up later. You would be amazed at how much time is spent going through boards, looking for defects and whatnot.
The weather tomorrow is up in the air, maybe some rain in the morning. Hopefully it will clear up early so we can keep moving forward.
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November 2006
11/01/2006
11/02/2006
An inconvenient truth?
While not usually a big fan of human-induced climate change, we could have used a little of that global warming today.
Three-month retrospective
11/08/2006
11/12/2006
A few boards short of a sandwich
Since we didn’t work this weekend…well, let me amend that statement. We didn’t work on the house this weekend, but let me tell you, we worked it on the dance floor. Some of us more than others. Do you know what you get when you mix a mild-mannered land protection assistant, a few amaretto sours and a willing partner in jive? You get this:
It was nice to cut loose and not worry about building for a weekend, although it was hard to miss a weekend of good weather. This was the first time in two months that I wore something besides Carhartts and a tool belt.
11/20/2006
All decked out
I awoke this morning to a fine layer of snow on the ground. Fine can have two meanings in this context. Fine as a modifier, meaning the snow layer was thin and powdery. Also, fine in a more Laurel and Hardy sense: ‘Well, this is a fine mess you’ve gotten us into.” However you look at it, it’s there, and with temps today not breaking the 30’s, and a heavy cloud cover, I don’t think it is going anywhere unless I move it.
The good news to come out of last week is that our basement is staying fairly dry. If it could withstand last week’s storms, it should hold its own against just about anything. This makes it a more viable storage area, and so some time was spent moving 18 boxes of tile from our living room into the basement. Anne also spent some quality time with the axe, splitting firewood and stacking it in the basement. We are preparing for the day when our house is buttoned up enough to move in the woodstove, which will allow us to work all winter long in relative comfort.
I realized that in all of my moaning about rain last week, I forgot to mention a project I started on Thursday, namely bulkhead stairs into the basement. Up until now, we have been using a ladder, which is ok, but not the easiest thing to go up and down 20 times a day. Stairs have been on the ‘When we get time to do it’ list, and that time was last week. Let me start this story by apologizing to Ms. Korson, my ninth grade math teacher, who tried to warn us that math will prove to be a very important part of our lives some day. Since I was planning to be a rock star, I paid her little mind, and I paid math even littler mind. Well, talk about something coming back to bite you in the ass. Stairs are all about angles, equations, and geometry and they don’t involve anything that is even remotely related to rock-stardom. Yikes! But after much sturm und drang, I finally got them right (more or less), and finished them off on Saturday. Let me tell you, we should have done this on day two. What a difference in quality of life at the worksite.
The other news from this weekend is that the second floor deck is finally done. I feel like I have been saying it is almost done for two weeks now, and I probably have, but now we can finally say that we are playing with a full deck.
I also started constructing the rafters, another math-filled angle-laden enterprise. I have one full set constructed and hope to get it in place temporarily to make sure that it is correct before I cut all of the others.
It is another short week for us as we are heading down to NY on Wednesday for the holiday. Hopefully we can make a bit of progress before then.
11/22/2006
Look, up in the sky...
This house kit is designed to be built by two people in reasonably good shape who do not mind working long hours. Anne and I fit that bill nicely, but during the week, it is usually just me and the chickadees. For the most part, this is not an issue. There are plenty of things that one person can do to keep busy. Case in point: yesterday, I cut 36 2x8’s into rafters. A long, monotonous job, but it will allow Anne and me to assemble the rafters more quickly this weekend, instead of waiting for me to cut each piece as needed. There are many days like that on the hillside, which is why the visual progress isn’t always stunning to the untrained eye, but to old salts like us, we know we are moving along ok.
Then there are the days when one person just isn’t going to cut it. Even the overly-optimistic instruction book from First Day wants at least three people there when putting the rafters into place. We have many neighbors who have offered their help, numerous times. And Monday was the day I was going to take them up on their offers. I had one rafter set constructed, and was going to finish making another one by the afternoon. They go up in pairs, attached to each other with bracing. But to attach them to each other at the proper spacing, they need to be upright. This is not a job for one person. So I walked over to Rick’s house, but he was tied up for the day. Then I tried Russ, but no one was home. Hmm…I really wanted to see what these looked like in the vertical position, to make sure all of my angles were correct, and also because I just wanted to make some progress after the long rain delay of last week.
I stood on the deck, contemplating the rafters at my feet. Anne’s words from that morning echoed in my head,” You’re going to ask for help, right? You’re not going to try and do it by yourself?” I tested the weight of one—heavy, but not impossible. After all, it’s just six fifteen-foot pieces of wood with a bunch of nails in it. I can lift this thing, I said to myself.
My mind began to conceive ideas of how one person could do this successfully. I am by now familiar with this sensation, this feeling when my brain begins to convince itself, 'This is not impossible.' It begins concocting elaborate strategies that it knows I am a sucker for (look back to the entry about me and my dad raising the walls with ropes). I picture myself standing there with a far-off look in my eye and little gears turning underneath my wool hat. If my life were a sitcom, this would be the point when the audience lets out a collective ‘Uh-oh.’
So I grab a bunch of clamps, and my drill, and some scraps of wood and a handful of screws. I screw in a couple of stop-blocks so the whole assembly doesn’t slide off the roof, put some clamps in a few strategic locations, suppress my common sense, and start to lift. With much groaning of wood and gnashing of teeth, it is up, balancing precariously on two very small points of contact. I slowly make my way to one end, praying that a strong wind doesn’t whip up out of nowhere. I manage to get one clamp on. Good. I make my way to the other end. Another clamp. Excellent. This is actually working. I slide the other rafter into position, and repeat the process. Holy cow, I have two rafters standing up, swaying slightly in the breeze. I quickly brace them together, and just like that, they stabilize themselves, now being one unit with four legs. After some minor adjustments to the spacing, they are ready to be hoisted into their final position on top of the knee wall. Hmm… I wonder how heavy two rafters are? I give an experimental lift. Yup, pretty heavy. My mind quickly shuts down the cogs and gears and the common sense mechanism comes back on-line. This must wait for another day.
What is the lesson learned? Don’t be afraid to try something that looks impossible. With a little luck, some careful planning, six clamps, scrap wood, three-inch screws and 800mg of ibuprofen, it is amazing what you can accomplish.
11/24/2006
Surf the Turkey
Yes, I said surf the turkey. Most people might think this is a misprint—“Oh, he must have meant to type ‘Stuff the Turkey.’ It’s an understandable mistake. Honestly, have you ever seen him type?” While it is true, my typing skills are akin to a gumshoe from a 1940’s film noir, I actually got that one right.
Anne and I drove down to NY on Wednesday for two reasons: to spend the Thanksgiving holiday with my family, and to play a gig in NYC that night. My band, Shilelagh Law, had a 10pm show at Connolly’s, a big bar right in Times Square. It was our first show back in months, and we were expecting a robust and rowdy turnout, which we got in spades. Over 600 people decided to spend Thanksgiving eve with us. It was a blast.
Now, for those of you who are not familiar with Shilelagh Law, we play high-energy Irish music. Denny, our fiddle player, is the clown-prince of the group, willing to do anything for a laugh. So when he informed me that he had a turkey outfit that he had borrowed for the night, I let out a groan, but I honestly was not that surprised. He played the first set in his regular clothes, and changed into the turkey suit right before set two. As I played ‘The Thanksgiving Song’ by Adam Sandler (pretty funny in its own right), out comes Denny from backstage with the turkey suit on. He dances around, plays a bit of fiddle, everyone laughs, takes some photos, and then he goes backstage and changes back into his regular apparel, and we go on with the show. I thought that was it for the turkey suit. I was soon proved wrong.
It seems that the guy who actually owned the turkey suit was in the crowd, and after a few drinks, decided he wanted in on the action. He sneaks backstage, puts the suit on, and comes on the stage and proceeds to dance around. This was funny, but he was a whirlwind, knocking into stuff and wreaking a bit of havoc. I look at Denny and we both agree that we have to get this guy off the stage. Denny starts to corral him, but he moves right o the front of the stage and says he is going to stage-dive (which basically means he is going to jump into the crowd horizontally and hope people catch him). We get some bigger guys up front, and whippee! the turkey is launched. He then proceeds to body-surf (when a person is passed on the upraised hands of the crowd) up and down the length of the bar. Thus, surf the turkey.
Thanksgiving itself was great. The entire family managed to get together in one place, and it was pleasantly chaotic. Anne and I left early Friday in order to make it back to NH in time to do a bit of work. We arrived back at the hillside with a few hours of daylight left, and after fruitlessly attempting to move the rafter assembly into position, we realized that we would have to disassemble it, get it into position in pieces, and then re-assemble it. Not too big a deal. Once we did that, all that remained was the power-lift. We got into position, took a deep breath, and heaved. Slowly one end was lifted, lifted, and then plunked down onto the posts. Whew! Now, to repeat on the other side. Same position, same deep breath, same slow lift. With a satisfying ‘thunk!’ the rafter slid into its final resting place, and just like that, we had two rafters erected. Wow. So two people can do it. That was nice to know. Nine to go and a whole weekend in front of us. Let’s see how much we can get done.
11/26/2006
Raise High the Roofbeams, Carpenters!
11/28/2006
Setting roots, giving thanks
I am a sucker for traditions, superstitions and rituals. I always throw salt over my shoulder when spilled. I love the ritual that comes with making tea from loose leaves and baking bread form scratch, or writing with a fountain pen. I relish the certain food and drink that is tied to specific times of the year—apple cider in the fall, fresh tomatoes in summer, and that first pint of stout that beckons winter onward. Things that hearken back to an older time when the pace of life wasn’t so hectic tend to warm my soul. They impart a sense of connectedness to something bigger than yourself. Traditions tie you to those who came before and will hopefully serve as a bridge to those who will follow you when you are gone.
There is an old Scandinavian tradition where one nails a small evergreen to the high point of the building when framing is complete. It is a show of respect to the trees that went into the construction. It also serves as a symbol of the house’s roots and the roots that will be established by the family that will live there. I have been awaiting the time when I could nail my own evergreen to the peak and continue this time-honored tradition. That time was today, after the last rafter went into place, and the framing of our house was complete.
True, we did it a bit different. We used a bunch of evergreen boughs, since evergreens are scarce on our land and we didn’t want to pull up a small tree. I screwed it into place instead of nailing it, since I was balanced on a ladder rather precariously and it was safer to do so. But the sentiment is there, and the feeling I get as I look up at the peak of our house and see the dark green branches waving against the blue sky can only be described as rooted. We are rooted to this place, this hillside. I am thankful to all of the things that have brought us this far, and await the time when traditions will be born within our four walls.
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