It's Not Pink & Anime J

I've reached a new level of neurotic: instead of selecting one of many fine colors prepared by Behr or Glidden or even Martha Stewart Living, I have indulged a childhood fantasy and have, however ill-advised, started mixing my own paint colors. The only problem with this practice is knowing when to STOP tinkering with a color. See exhibit A: the laundry room. We tested out a million different colors (all with corresponding made-up names such as Yucky Green and Hells No Blue) and I finally decided on a bold, bold move: one wall "Anime J" (the color of Jason's eyeballs if he was an Anime character - the color directly behind my head in the photo) and one wall "It's Not Pink" (it's not Pink... it's clay pot / terra cotta / peach-esque). The result is kind of hideous, but so dramatically, vibrantly, shockingly hideous that I'm tempted to leave it for a while. Painting this wall It's Not Pink has somehow made the truth sink in -- this is MY house and I can paint the walls whatever color I want to, even if it is ugly, and nobody can tell me not to! Interesting, how tearing off the roof, busting up bathroom fixtures and tearing out whole walls didn't *quite* do this for me. I think that all those things were just so responsible and productive that it wasn't until I did something foolish that the real power of home ownership became manifest. That, and sending in my first mortgage payment. Oof.

At the same time as I proceeded to turn the laundry room into a Cinco de Mayo inspired playhouse, Jason talked some sense into my decision for a classy, elegant bedroom floor... yet we still managed to create a custom stain by mixing Rosewood, Golden Oak and Cherry. We laid down a solid Rosewood (a rich, dark stain) and then rubbed a coat of Golden and Cherry into the grain over top, to bring out the highlights. Jason got to name this one -- he calls it "Black Cherry" and every time he says it, I sing the one line I know from the Goldfrapp song.

Dickens, however, disapproves of the stinky stages of home improvement. He behaved himself for the most part, only chewing on the dried stain stick once and tracking a tiny little bit of It's Not Pink onto the It's Still Gold arm chair. Then, after a bit of a bath, he hid in a box to make his displeasure known.

A Tale of Two Walls

The parents have finally made it back to Rochester, despite being stuck overnight in JFK in what sounds like an epic Delta screw-up. Here in Utah, progress continues to be made on the house as Jason brings the Big Machine into the bedroom and proceeds to sand the floor that the stripper has finally succeeded in scraping up the old linoleum, with the help of a lot of elbow grease and a wire brush. [Aside: construction terminology sounds funny. This is a photo of me in Home Depot one night when it was 9pm and we were still loading lumber and I was carrying a blind and searching for a Furring Strip, which I accidentally called a Furry Strip and outed myself as incompetent to Phil, one of many Home Depot employees who now recognize me on sight]. After the past 90 years of crud was sanded off the floor, exposing beautifully tight boards that are so long they span the whole length of the room, I said: "oh! That's why we scraped off all that crap." and then Jason laid down about a dozen test patches of stain so I could choose. This was a bad move. The more choices I had available to me, the harder the choice. At one point, I proposed patch-working my bedroom floor in different colored stains a la Buddhist monk sand sculpture. Jason said, "have fun with that and let me know how it goes" or something like that which was probably nicer, like, "uhhhhh... I could help you with that..." or else, "hmmm. ". This is a picture of us sitting on the floor at midnight, yucky and dirty and undecided on stain.

While the floors were setting up and decisions were percolating, we continued the assault on the laundry room, working over the last few patches of mudding that needed to be applied to the walls to smear over any rough spots.

Now, for those of you who don't know anything about walls, I've had an education this last week. So, first, there are the wooden things that make the framework and hold the wall up. Then comes the insulation stuffed in all the gaps. Then the sheetrock goes over all that to cover it up and gets screwed in. Then you use this drywall stuff that comes in a giant (very heavy, surprise surprise) bucket to smear over all the screw holes and netting-like tape that goes between the pieces of sheetrock. This is what eventually gets painted over so your wall looks like one smooth surface.

My favorite moment in this educational process was when Johnny's two youngest kids came over to drop off the Dickens and see the house, and Ilona took one look at the laundry room and asked, "so what color are you painting it, white or green?" I laughed because that is exactly what I would have asked, if I hadn't seen the whole thing happening. To her, it looked like a little room with funny smears of white goo all over the green walls. I told her that was still all the stuff under the skin, and the final thing was going to be yellow! or maybe blue. Or both.

You know what else is messy? Wet-sanding the drywall once it sets up. You take this fine sponge that is somewhere between foam and sandpaper, and you smear it all over the surface of the wall to even out any imperfections. It takes a long time, is susceptible to mistakes that put dents in your wall, and tends to drip plaster into your armpit, which, if you forget to wash it out, gets you funny looks when you go grocery shopping covered in plaster. [I don't have any photos of this event, but it happened].

Interspersed in being covered in plaster: many trips into the bedroom to contemplate the floor stain. My conclusion -- WHY did I paint that wall red? I don't even like that red wall. Decision made: I will stain the floor dark Rosewood and repaint my one wall light green instead of brick red. Hey. I never said that just because I made a decision on the paint color, it would stick. Again, I am heavily wooed by nomenclature. The yellow that is on the majority of the walls in the bedroom is called Corn Silk, and the green that will replace Misguided Red Wall is called Corn Husk. Conclusion: I have corny walls.

Outside, Mom and I attacked the front yard on the last day. She did some epic weeding -- including a long stint in the Utah sun with tiny clippers, on her hands and knees, clipping by hand each over grown weed cropping out of my front yard! [no photos -- too tragic -- "this is why I encouraged you to get the lawnmower BEFORE your parents got here," Jason said]. I took the shovel to the front beds and struck the good dirt jackpot -- clearly, someone who lived here before has nourished those garden beds. This was the most exciting thing of the day -- real, rich, good, dark DIRT! Dirt without a million tiny rocks packed into it that need to be broken up with a pick axe and sifted out. Dirt without killer tree roots and that hardpack layer of red sand. Real, fertile dirt. Awesome. I was so excited, Mom and I went out and bought some plants -- Russian Sage, Rosemary, Lavender, tall grasses, ice plant, groundcover, echanasea and yarrow -- and I will plant them as soon as the sun gets low enough in the sky to give me a little relief from the heat.

Tomorrow, Nicole comes over for brunch! Dickens is excited to see her, too. She has been away too long.

Dickens Approves of the House

Dis ees DICKENS! I has eccsplorrd de Houz and i think ees GUD houz. Thank u 4 de Beds and Windo Sills . I hope u r verry comfortbul on de Sofa tonite beecuz I hav no move from dees beds! i am 1 complaynt: dees door nobbs ees TOOO hi. I can nod REECH for to go OOTside. I wud verry much like to go OOTside now plees. Thanku! -D.

Parental OVERHAUL!

The new toilet is installed! Cheers to toilets. Jason and I maneuvered it into position just in time for my parents to arrive and want to stay in the house. I figured that making my parents crawl through the back window to pee was not really an option. A bucket behind the back shed was an option... but also not a good one. So this is us, the night before the parents got in, toasting the new john.
The parents have been here this week, and launched themselves into various projects with great gusto and energy. It has been a virtual whirlwind of cleaning, fixing, tearing out, putting up, painting, papering, and planning. My father had the pleasure of tackling Moldy Wall, and before I'd even woken up one morning, had already ripped out much of the old sheet rock. I wandered bleary-eyed around the corner of the house to see mounds of yucky moldy insulation coming flying out the laundry room window. After Moldy Wall turned into Moldy Wall(s) and Moldy Ceiling, Dad sent Jason and I to Home Depot with a shopping list that only Jason could de-code. There were lots of numbers on it that translated to lumber and insulation and some caps and screws and things. We also got a Circular Saw! At first Jason was reluctant to be the recipient of this Saw, but I told him either it would belong to him, or it would belong to me but only he would be able to operate it, so the Saw will have a good home in his van. My dad and Jason spent a long time happily comparing saws and picking A Good One. Now, there are three saws in the back yard and lots of hammering. Dad declared the laundry room construction Buggered Up. "This is all buggered up!" he said. I agreed. For one, it is all crooked. They also put the studs in sideways, so that the lower half of the wall came in farther than the upper half of the wall. Three, it's all crooked. There were lots of other things wrong-headed about it, but Buggered Up pretty much sums it up.

Even though the mold issue has been fixed and Cloroxed to death in the walls and there shouldn't be any more water leaking in from the roof, I bought the Mold Tough sheet rock, so that even if there are any lingering little molds, they won't be able to grow in my wall. I also discovered that sheet rock is very heavy. Five large pieces of it in Jason's van were added to the list of Very Heavy Things we've loaded and unloaded.
While all this was going on, Mom cleaned, painted and laid contact paper in the bottom of all my kitchen cabinets. I had an adventure in installing roman blinds. The first one said Install in Fifteen Minutes! but it took more like an hour. The second one actually installed in fifteen minutes. Curious... they were the exact same blind. :) The second time, I installed the thing before the sun came through the window and made my knees so sweaty that when I tried to use the electric drill on the wall, I pushed myself right off the counter top. [ This is Jason's Duct Tape Shoe. It is time for a new shoe. This is also Jason fixing my Moldy Wall. He's a good man, and gets around pretty well in that Duct Tape Shoe!]
After my new (New!) refrigerator arrived, the kitchen actually looked like somebody might want to spend some time in it at some point. We still hadn't found the plates and were eating our sandwiches off of tea saucers, but I had found my can-opener and some silverware, so we were living large.

At the same time, work continues with the bedroom: I made a final decision on the colors of the walls -- Corn Silk and New Brick -- and we have continued the assault on the floor. The linoleum goo is all gone, but we're still scraping, scrubbing, and wiping up the weird green paint that was under everything on one point in the floor. I think this bedroom used to be an outside porch at some point, and this green paint is probably from 1922. We're scraping it off with stripper and lots of gooey chemicals so that Jason won't sand it off and breathe in lead dust and poison his brain. I like his brain very much un-poisoned, so there has been lots of gas-masked scraping.

Here are some other photos from this week. Good times. Soon, I'll even start unpacking boxes! A very exciting stage is happening this evening: DICKENS is coming to stay at the house! He has been enjoying a sojourn at Casa d'Wall (Johnny's house) and will be a little miffed to downgrade to Stinky Room, Formerly Moldy Room, and Room Full of Boxes, but I'm sure he'll get over it. Besides, there are so many things to sniff, and the new house needs a coat of cat hair all over everything to make it feel like home.

It's not a real basement 'till it smells like woodchips

My parents are coming in from Rochester tonight! Although there are still many projects around the house to do (including lighting the pilot on the ancient water heater and hoping it doesn't blow, and acquiring a refrigerator so the parents can eat food that needs to stay cold), at long last, the steel beam is set in the basement, all the sisters are holding up floor joists, and the bedroom floor no longer smells like Evil. Dumpster-man has come and taken away our very full dumpster, and the new toilet has been installed.

A word on toilets: Glacier-Bay, your instruction manual is the WORST. It is not just unclear or confusing, it is riddled with inconsistencies and bald-faced LIES. There are bits on the toilet that have been installed in one way when you buy the damn thing that you need to UNinstall and rearrange in order to follow the instructions. It is an instructional atrocity. I have half a mind to write all over the instructions in red pen and mail them back to the Glacier Bay company because they should know just have embarrassingly awful their literature is. But after a lot of patience and impatience and luck and a hacksaw and a pile of extra washers and a lot of gooey wax everywhere... three test flushes produced no leakage, so we're declaring toilet to be installed, in the face of Glacier Bay's best attempts to screw up the process. Damn you, Glacier Bay!

Nobody is going to mention the fact that my toilet is oblong instead of round, and looks a little silly in my tiny bathroom. Shh.

Here are some left over photos from the other day -- Jason and the linoleum floor. He looks bad-ass in his plaid headband and elbow gloves. What a rock 'n' rolla. Somebody give that man a drum set.

2 Very Sticky Situations

The weekend has been dedicated to glue: putting it on, and taking it off. First, we ripped up the carpet in the bedroom, only to discover that it had gold linoleum underneath! This was no ordinary linoleum -- this was super old, super thick, super sticky linoleum. We laid down coat after coat of very toxic solvent in order to soften the ancient adhesive. The nice man at Home Depot suggested we spend $20 on a tool that converts a hand paint-scraper into a long floor-scraper by attaching it to a pole. Oh, we who have scoffed at 20 dollar poles! If only we had bought the pole. Instead, 2 o'clock in the morning found us on hands and not-even-knees (you can't put your skin into contact with the toxic solvent stuff), still scraping away at the linoleum. We couldn't leave it on forever, or it would just eat through the old floor. We had to stay until it was juuuust right. It was like an unfortunate twist on a fairy tale: Goldilocks and the Evil Solvent Floor. [These photos are of Jason and I wearing most uncomfortable gas masks with filters on them to prevent us from dying of Terrible Ick disease from inhaling solvent fumes. I look really happy about it, don't I? Note: Jason is actually DOING something in this photo, while I am squatting uncomfortably looking like I might put that scraper to use at some point].

In the meantime, while we waited for the strange alchemy of chemicals eat through the glue on the floor, we messed around with the basement problems -- namely, other people's poor choices. There were two places where important wooden parts of the floor had been sawed through or otherwise abused by good-intentioned home-owners or bad-intentioned plumbers making room for their pipes. [ See picture -- the little white cap is the new one I put on (with PIPE WRENCH!) after removing stupid big old one that was the source of the conflict with the center beam, causing Mr. Previous to saw off a section of a Very Important Beam]. We had to get really big long heavy boards and first glue them, then screw them into place alongside the existing beams for reinforcement. The story isn't all that exciting -- just a lot of crouching and grunting and hammering and yanking and asking of "WHY DOESN'T THIS WANT TO FIT" when trying to squeeze new planks in around existing duct work, floor joists and water pipes. Oh, and there was a hydraulic jack involved -- that was exciting. We put it into place to make sure the floor didn't sag while we ripped off the old "sister" board that was this wimpy reinforcement that somebody had nailed in, like a poor attempt to keep the zombies from climbing through the windows (and everybody knows that that zombie is just going to bust through that wimpy nailed board). This new sister board is so tough, it will keep my toilet from falling through the floor when even the largest of guests sits on it, and I would bet money on it holding back the worst of the zombies that might try to bust through. Plus, I wrote my name on it in glue, so it is for good luck.

quote of the day

Harmony: "I believe in wood. It holds up trees!"