Sand Storm

So as you can see I got out the sander and made a huge mess. I got about half of the door sanded and ran out of sandpaper. At that point I had to clean up because the kids were coming home from school and I still didn't have Halloween costumes for them. It took me about an hour just to get the dust cleaned up off the furniture, the carpet, the stairs. It was just a mess. Finally I got it all cleaned up and went Halloween shopping. I came back with THIS.



Yes, I had to do it. Sherruff Sam. Notice the gun holster at his side. All that's missing in this picture is the silver star that I am going to pin on his gun belt. I can't wait to take him trick or treating.

Last Minute Rush (Before Winter)

A close up of all those layers of paint on the door with an unintentional view of the house across the street.


How it looked when we first moved in. Notice the lovely fake parquet floor.

I've been having a problem with motivation. The problem is I'm just tired and don't feel like working on the house. I'd rather sit around on my computer all day and drink coffee, especially on the cold days. I have found on the days that I give in and do nothing I feel depressed at the end of the day because no progress has been made. Living in your renovation can sure have it's drawbacks.
Anyway, I decided to actually do something today, and that was to work on the front door. I have been working on the foyer for about two years and the front door is one of the last projects I have to finish. Actually the foyer has been many small projects rolled into one big project. It started with removing the old square parquet tiles covering the gorgeous oak floor, then removing the glue that was left. Then the stripping and staining and poly-ing that went on forEVer. The removal of the stair rail to be stripped of it's white paint was next and then the paint on the walls. Almost all that is left is the threshold entering the living room(just one more coat of stain and poly, and it's just one strip of three inch board) and the front door. When I moved in the door was painted white. I added to the layers and painted it cream. Then I decided I wanted to strip it completely and stain it a deep mahogany. I started stripping it about the time I first started stripping the floors, about two years ago. I found out there were a LOT of layers of paint, including a really pukey green hidden almost at the very bottom. (The same ugly green as K's room was, and the original stair risers, and the ceilings in both girls rooms, and the original wallpaper hidden behind the fireplace; The original owner must have had a thing for green.)
One day the summer before last I decided to take the door off. I didn't realize how heavy it was until all the hinges were out and it was resting with it's full weight on my arms. Tom was out of town, which left just me and my twelve year old(at the time)to carry it outside to be stripped. It must have been a couple of hundred pounds. It isn't one of those cheap hollow core doors, this thing is solid. The whole house shakes if somebody slams it. It has intricate detail around the windows and they were caked with eighty years of paint. As soon as I got it outside and really got into the job it started raining, don't you know. I had to get my twelve year old to help me get it back inside and back up. I never did finish getting all the paint off, especially in the grooves around the window panes.
So, as I say, I decided to do something with my day besides bite my nails over the presidental election. I got out my supplies and set to work. I stripped and scrubbed with an old toothbrush and stripped and scrubbed some more. After about three hours I had removed very little. The stuff was baked on or something. It just wasn't coming off, especially in the intricate areas. Finally I had to clean it up and get on with cleaning up the house. I neglected to do the daily cleaning so I could have more time to work on the door, and as a result Tom ended up cooking while I was doing housework.
So, back to the drawing board tomorrow. I think I'm just going to sand the door itself (*sigh*I swore I would never sand ANYthing inside the house again) and maybe go buy a dremmel to get in the small areas. I am so looking to being done, done DONE with this foyer project which has turned out to be the mother of all projects. This weekend Tom and I have slated to be a happy family work weekend. Well, the kids are not going to be happy about it, but we have about seven different things going on that are all near completion and we just need to get on with it. So hopefully by Monday we will have the drywall completely done in K's room, the wallpaper back up in the bathroom (that will be another blog), the front door done, the drywall back up around the A.C. in the living room( I thought there was mold behind the wall and removed a small piece to make sure there wasn't. There wasn't.) The carpet in the living room needs cleaning, and the yard needs to be mowed one last time before winter and last but not least I need to disconnect the fountain's solar pump before we get a freeze. And as long as I'm dreaming, I need all my closets and junk drawers cleaned out, my desk cleaned and paperwork sorted and a million dollars to finish this renovation and somebody to buy me a new bed with a tempurpedic mattress. Of course then I'll never want to get out of bed to do the work. Talk about your motivation problems...but I'm willing to take that chance.

Finally...

Before...



After

...a step forward instead of back. Today there was PROGRESS. We had a really beautiful fall day. The problem was so much to choose from, as far as projects go. Clean the garage...work on K's room...work on the front door...and as always, housecleaning.
We opted for something that wasn't even on the list. While we were surveying the garage for trash and stuff to give to Goodwill, my husbands eyes lit on the now finished stair rail. I had been waiting to finish the foyer floor before getting it back up. I decided last week after the last application of poly that I was through with that, so why not.
Of course no project shared between us is complete without SOME kind of argument sharp words, or at the least, rolled eyes.
This started off with him asking if I knew where the screws were to put the thing back in the wall. "Of course, I do", I replied very scornfully, as if to say, "I NEVER lose things, fool."
All the while, my mind was searching frantically, because I couldn't remember what I had done with them. I don't know why I just couldn't be honest and admit I had lost them. So I went in the laundry room, (we keep our tools in there on shelves) which is the last place I saw them, and rooted around for awhile, but no dice. To make matters worse he kept popping his head in and asking "Have you found them yet?" I found myself starting to mutter angrily at myself again, just like when we were working on K's room.
Finally I spotted some screws that looked like they COULD be the ones. We tried them out and they seemed to fit. I was unsure they were the ones that actually came from the rail originally, but I wasn't about to tell HIM that.
We brought it in,very carefully so as not to scratch the new finish on the floor and between the two of us managed to get it up. The last time it was up it was white and the floor was those seventies wooden square parquet squares. The risers on the stairs also had parquet tiles. They weren't glued to the risers, either. They were glued to the back of some pieces of paneling cut to fit the space and THAT was glued to the stairs. Taking them off was so much fun. NOT. When I stood back and looked
I was unprepared for the beauty of the black wrought iron paired with the now refinished 80 year old oak floor. It took my breath away.
And a further surprise when I came downstairs at dusk. I had turned on the small stained glass hall lamp next to the rail. The resulting shadows on the floor were stunning. It reminded me of a violin scroll. I had been considering having the bulbous round part of the bottom of the stair rail removed because a)I didn't like it, and b)it took up too much space.
I changed my mind.
I love my hall.

I Thought This was Supposed to be a Comedy...

I will not throw my power tools across the room
I will not throw my power tools across the room
I will not throw my power tools across the room
I will not throw my power tools across the room
I will not throw my power tools across the room...


Lately I think my "Comedy" is turning into a tragedy worthy of Shakespeare himself. I have been working like mad to get the ceiling in K's room drywalled, before T (okay I can't stand this Acronym business, I'm just going to call him Tom) gets home. He stated before he left that he was NOT going to do the ceiling. I decided that we were. So I waited until he left and then I went to the new hardware store down the street and bought a bunch of quarter inch Sheetrock. The first part wasn't so hard, I had help, (my tall daughter and her tall ex boyfriend) and the ceiling was low. It changes angles at about four feet in and goes from slanted and low to straight across and nine feet high. So I got most of it done before he came home.
Today I went in today to finish the high part. (I did some last night, all by myself, to my own amazement)
Things soon got difficult. I would carry the four by four feet pieces up on my head, making sure I had the screwdriver at the top of the ladder and plenty of screws, go to the top and use my head and forearm to hold it in place while I used the other arm to load the screwdriver and screw the piece on. I found myself using increasingly vulgar words. The screws kept falling out of the screwdriver and off of the ladder and I couldn't hold the Sheet rock straight. My back and arms were killing me. The screws didn't want to go into the old hard wood. I began to feel sorry for myself. I started muttering angrily out loud. I felt even sorrier for myself when nobody came to find out what I was muttering about. I knew I had lost control when I began stabbing one of the pieces of Sheetrock with my screwdriver. Over and over I let it have it. Then I threw my screwdriver from the top of the ladder across the room. Then I quit.
Hours later, sitting here recounting my experience, I find myself chuckling. Maybe it is a comedy after all. Of course I am ashamed that I let myself get so out of control. I should NEVER have thrown my power tool. (not the first time, though, last week, I threw it down onto a pile of Sheetrock four deep and it landed point down like a pole with a screwdriver flag. That WAS kind of funny.
The ceiling should be completed by tomorrow evening. I just have some small pieces down either side of the room. All the big pieces are up. All I have to do is mud and tape and the room will be ready for paint. And I promise not to throw the paint brush across the room...unless I have PMS -then I make no promises...

FLOORED

Does this looke like satin to you? This is after it dried. You can clearly see the line between the previous application and the new application.


Well, I'm floored. I can't believe it. I want to scream and cry and throw things. I have been working on the foyer floor for a year and a half. I have been waiting for everyone to be gone from the house at one time (which almost never happens) so that I could put the final coat of poly on. (Last time I tried to poly with people at home, Tee tried to jump over the wet area and tripped on the stairs and almost broke his leg. I decided then that it wasn't worth killing a family member to fix the house, I would wait to do floors until the house was empty.)
Today was the day. Tee was on a business trip, the kids at school. I planned the whole day around finishing the floor. I swept it, I cleaned it with wood cleaner, I got the tack cloth out and got up every smidgen of dust. Then I got out my brand new can of Minwax Fast Drying Satin Polyurethane. I opened the can and stirred it up and then began the application with my brand new brush. It looked great. I only did a small strip, about three feet wide by about five feet across, because I wanted to be able to get up my stairs, and because since that is the area in the house that gets the most foot traffic that part needed another coat.
I put up the supplies and straightened up the house and went upstairs to pay bills and watch TV.
After a couple of hours I realized it wasn't drying. I went to the garage and got a little fan and closed all the windows and turned on the AC full blast, thinking that lowering the humidity would help. A little while later, while looking at it, I reached down and touched it. OMG. It WAS dry. I broke out in a cold sweat. Those of you who have read my previous blogs about all the trouble I have had with the foyer floor will know why I suddenly felt sick in the pit of my stomach. Why why WHY???! I went and looked at the can. Yes, the can said SATIN, plain as day. But the floor was now as glossy as it could be. Now I had a floor that was three fourths satin and one fourth glossy.
Now I could just do the whole floor glossy, but that is not what I wanted. This hundred year old floor is imperfect. I wanted to give it a satin shine so that every little divot, speck of dust and minute dip in the wood (especially with all the trouble with the belt sander, before) would not show.
So I called Minwax, and they tried to tell me that I didn't stir it. I told Minwax that yes I did stir it. They checked the batch number and said they hadn't had any trouble with that batch. They offered to refund me the money for the can, and told me I could use some fine sandpaper (I will use steel wool) and scuff it up and then apply the finish I intended. All I know is This means a whole lot more work on that foyer floor, when I would have been totally finished tomorrow.

Water Heater Woes

Well, apparently the water heater is jealous of all the attention the air conditioner has been getting lately, because it continues to cause me problems.
I called the plumber to check out the thermostat a couple of weeks ago, and he replaced it (no sweat, 20 minutes and 40 dollars).
But then a couple of days ago it began leaking from the top, right under under the valve that turns the water on and off to the heater. The water was running down the back and into the drain pain and then dripping on the floor. Tommy got up on a chair and tightened the valve and it stopped running and we thought that was the end of it. I put a bucket underneath to catch the residual water runoff that was still dripping on the floor and then walked away and forgot about it.
Again we come to the beginning of the weekend and again, we are strapped for cash, when standing at the stove in the kitchen I hear a suspicious little "drip". I look around the corner and see that the little trash can is full to the top with water. This alarms me because it has been three full days since Tee fixed the valve. This should have dried up by now. Apparently that residual drip was not from the top of the water heater, but it must have been coming from inside the water heater. Again I called the plumber and he came out and confirmed that the water heater has ruptured. We are going to have to buy a new one.
That said, I decided to do some more research on the Internet. I have been thinking for a long time that when the water heater finally kicked the bucket I would go ahead and get a tankless. They are supposedly more energy efficient (thirty percent savings over the tank style for gas, and seventy percent savings for electric), supposedly you never run out of hot water, they take up less space, and if you get them installed by someone who knows what they are doing and you get a quality brand they can last up to twenty years.
So I got on my computer and immediately became inundated with all kinds of information that clogged up my brain in a hurry. I've heard of MPG, but how about GPM (that's gallons per minute). In order to make a good decision about which kind would be the best for your home, this is something you need to know. Do you need a whole house heater that can run more than one major application at a time, such as a shower a dishwasher and a sink? ( A shower runs about one and a half gallons per minute, ditto, for the dishwasher, so for two applications you would need something that runs at least three gallons a minute. As much hot water as we use, based on the six hundred fifty dollar electric bill we got last month, I think we need one that heats about seventy five GPM) Or if you have a smaller household, can you just get by with something that will only heat enough water for one application at a time, such as a dishwasher. After you read that line two or three times, then you move on to the electrical. How many amps do you need? Do you have enough "amperage" (for lack of a better word) in your fuse box, or do you need to have a special fuse box made just for the water heater? How cold is the weather in the winter where you live? Because the difference between the low temperature outside and how warm you want the water determines how hard your water heater is going to be working to keep your shower hot. And whatever you do, DON'T let the plumber attach copper lines to your steel applicance, or you will have corrosion and failure in five or six years, And by the way, you will have to have both a plumber AND an electrician out to install the thing after you finally decide which one is best for you.
Anyway, I'm taking a roundabout way to say that I was somewhat intimidated by all the information.
I haven't made a decision, yet. I would really like to get a tankless, despite the fact that I feel like I am in over my head. The problem of course is the cost. I found one I really like but it's a thousand dollars, BEFORE the installation. Now THAT'S intimidating

Post script.
I intended to buy a new one right away but the dripping slowed down and finally stopped, enabling me to save a little bit of money for it before the end of the water heater's life. We finally decided after much debate that we just couldn't afford to put in a tankless at this time, and that as much hot water as we use for our family of five, that this would not be the best choice for us anyway. Finally one day, while I was at the very end of a long drive home from visiting my Dad and almost home, I got a frantic call from Tommy. He was shouting into the phone "How do you turn off the $%&*^$%^$*& WATER!! It's everywhere! I can't get it to stop!"
I put my foot to the floor and got home in record time and by this time he had found the shutuff, and was mopping up a big mess in my laundry room.
I called around, of course you KNOW it was a weekend and plumbers were charging a premium. I had one estimate of 1200 dollars to replace the one we had with one exactly like it. Thinking this was a little pricey I called Home Depot, ordered one over the phone and they delivered and installed it the next day. The whole thing only cost me six hundred dollars and I have not had a water heater worry since that day.

The Impossible Becomes Possible

I changed my mind. I decided I absolutely did not want to do the drywall in K's room. I really wanted professionals to do this job. I didn't want to screw it up, and I knew I would. I again put her room on the back burner, for a month or two.
Then one day, Tee talked me into putting up one piece. Just one. I put it up, and hated it. I took it down. I put it up again, and took it down again. I hated the whole thing. I hated the weight, I hated the feel of it. I hated cutting it. I hated the way it crumbled if you looked at it wrong. I was primitively cutting the drywall with a box knife and a yardstick. It was backbreaking. I had wanted to use quarter inch Sheetrock but Tee made a shopping excursion without me one day, and had come home with half inch Sheetrock instead. I was more than a little ticked off about that, since I would have to be doing most of the work, that he didn't consult me before he changed the plan. Our budget, being constrained, as of late, he talked me into not hiring professionals. I reluctantly agreed that we would have to do it ourselves if we wanted it done.
Every day I would go in there and cut a piece and put it up. Sometimes Tee would come in and help me screw it into place. Every day it got a little harder for me to do. Mentally I was shot. Every time I would put up a piece I would worry that it wasn't exactly right. I would go to bed thinking about how I would change it in the morning. First thing the next morning I would take it down and start over. Tee began to make comments about how we never progressed because we kept putting up the same pieces over and over. I couldn't help it, I just wanted it to be RIGHT. Half arsed just wasn't good enough for me.
Then I started sneaking. I would wait for him to leave the room and sneak a piece down and try to replace it before he came back. It would be OK if it was done when he came back, and done better than when he left. Inevitably, however, he always seemed to catch me in the act. "What are you DOING?? Taking down ANOTHER piece?"
And there was the aggravating fact that as long as I was working alone I could do OK measuring. But if he came in and watched or tried to help I mismeasured every single piece and had to recut it. This began to really boil my blood. I would say "trust me, honey, I know what I'm doing. I know this doesn't look right, but it will come out right in the end." And then I would go to put it up and the outlet hole would be three inches too high or two inches too far to the right. EVERY SINGLE TIME!! I started to develop a complex. Every time I would hear him coming, I would start muttering to myself and be angry with him before he would even get in the room. He would come in and start to work, and after a few chilly minutes he would ask "are you mad at me?" "No." I would growl back. The person I was really angry at was myself, for being so incompetent.
But it got better. We made a trip to Lowe's and bought a whole bunch of new tools to work with. One of these tools was a SAWZALL. I had never seen one of these until Dad came to do the framing. I decided right away that I HAD to have one. What I didn't know, as I took it out of it's box and snapped the blade on is that it would cut drywall like butter. (said in a whispered voice, with much amazement).
The other thing that finally got us moving was the laser level. I had always wanted one, and now it made making the measurements on the drywall a dream. The room was not square so each piece had to be measured independently of each other, and each side of each piece had to be measured, as well, since one wall would be 88 inches tall on one side and 87 and a half on the other side of the wall. The numbers were mind boggling, and I am no math genius. But the laser level changed all that. I could make a mark on one side of the drywall and make the corresponding mark on the other side, use the level to line up the two marks and cut it with the SAWZALL in a matter of a couple of minutes. I finally stopped taking down the pieces because they were finally right. The room really started to come together.
Yesterday, I put in the final piece of drywall, and began mudding and taping. I stood looking around the room in amazement that the impossible had become possible. I could not believe that WE had made this happen. Then K came in and looked around and got the happiest grin on her face. She's finally going to get her room back. That makes me happy too.

So that's where we are at in our home renovation. Of course I realize that my other daughter (A's room) is going to have to go through the exact same thing. (later, MUCH later) The two rooms are exactly alike, running along one side of the house. They used to be one room, the old garage, when the house was built. So since they share that horrible green wall, we will have to remove the paneling we worked so hard to smooth out in there, back when we first moved in. We will have to do this whole drywall thing AGAIN!!

K's Room

While I was thinking about whether or not we could or could not do the drywall in my daughter's (K's) room, I had a talk with my dad, who lives about five hours away. I asked if he knew anything about framing, and it so happened that he did. I asked if he would be willing to donate a weekend to help us frame up the room. It just so happened that he would. I began to be excited. Maybe we really COULD do this by ourselves.
That said, I waited anxiously for Dad to show up on Friday night. I didn't really expect him to start work right away, since he had been up since four thirty AM, and had worked all day at his own job. But, as I found out, there are still things, even after forty years that I am still learning about my Dad. He arrived and within ten minutes I heard him tearing down the rest of the paneling in K's room. I would have thought he would have been exhausted after a full day of work and a five hour drive on top of that.
Tee and I joined him, and in about fifteen minutes we had the rest of the paneling down and all of the walls exposed. Since Tee and I were celebrating our sixteenth wedding anniversary that night I talked them both into taking a rest then, and coming into the dining room to share some anniversary cake with me and my step mom, or Bonus Mom, as we call her now days.
The next morning, early, I awoke to the sounds of more demolition coming from the bedroom. Dad was already on the job, trying all by himself to remove a huge hearthstone that had taken up about an eighth of the room. The thing was about five feet long and must have weighed two to three hundred pounds. Between the two of us, we took it out to the yard, to be used in pieces in the garden, later on.
Then the framing began. Mostly Tee and my dad did the framing while I ran back and forth to the hardware store for supplies. This put my nose out of joint just a little, since I had been doing most of the reno work up to this point, and now felt like I was being pushed aside. I tried to contain my irritation, however, as I made a second, third, fourth, and then a fifth trip to the store.
One one of those trips, as I was checking out, my mind must have wandered. I had been sent to buy some non treated two by fours, and I looked straight at the lady and asked her if she had any non insulating insulation! She just looked at me blankly. My Bonus Mom looked at me with pity and started laughing. She didn't miss a beat. She looked at the girl behind the counter and said "It's alright, honey, were taking her back to the home, as soon as we get out of here!" Then I just started laughing. Did I really just say noninsulatinginsulation? Maybe I really DO have the early Alzheimer's.
I bricked in the hole where the old wood burning fireplace stood in times past (before us), removed all the loose masonry material, got rid of that awful plastic that was keeping everything up, used mortar to fill in all the large cracks, swept the room and finally we were ready to begin drywalling. That would be an uphill battle all the way.

The Nightmare Behind the Walls...

I finished with the floor in the foyer and decided to take a break from reno for a while. I was worn out, tired and depressed. One day, feeling somewhat better, I decided the time had come to remodel my oldest daughter's bedroom. Her bedroom used to be the back half of the old thirties garage. It was very dark, with just one window and a door and beat up white paneling. I figured it would be an easy job to just replace the paneling with drywall, paint and recarpet. HA! how the gods must have laughed as I moved my daughter out of her room and into my youngest daughter's room. I told them it would only be temporary, just until we could get the other bedroom back in working order. HA! (Two years later, they are still in the same room)
I started by attacking that ugly white paneling. I pulled off a large piece and then I just stood there with my mouth open. I could not believe what that paneling had been hiding. Underneath was a green (ugly, ugly, thirties green) stucco? Concrete? at any rate some kind of masonry wall. The stucco was falling off. There were huge cracks and large pieces of it had fallen to the floor. The P.O.s (previouse owners) had placed plastic across the entire bottom half of the wall, I presume to hold in the pieces as they fell. I reached out and touched a loose piece of wall and watched it fall to the floor as my hand moved away. Worst of all there was no framing whatsoever. Behind the chipped cracked wall was the exterior brick of the house. The P.O.s had nailed one by twos into this masonry and then the paneling on top of that. The nails were not holding into the wall, they were loose and had actually worsened the cracking in the wall.
After a few minutes of looking at this, I decided to take a look at the other three walls. I pulled off some of the paneling around the door. It was even worse then the first.
At this point I knew I was in way over my head. I just left the paneling where it lay and walked out of the room. I pretty much gave up. What little knowledge I had about home renovation did not extend to framing and drywall.
So while that project was sitting on the back burner, I began working on my downstairs bathroom, the one that had previously had sewer problems. These problems being resolved, I decided now was the time to get it up and running again. You will recall from my last story that there was no toilet sink or walls left in there after the last sewer explosion.
I decided that I wanted to try to tile the bathroom. I had never tiled anything in my life before but I had seen it done so many times on HGTV and This Old House and so many other shows, that I felt really confident. (I used to work at Michael's doing demostrations on the latest craft ideas and got really got at reading and watching instructions on video and then following through with the project, so I knew I could do totally do this.)
I bought the tile (Hubby and I almost got divorced over the tile selection) and a tile saw and came home and got to work. I could not believe that for once, a project actually went the way it was supposed to go. I laid it all out, mixed the thinset according to the directions, troweled it out and laid the tile and made it as level as I could in the unlevel bathroom. Then I mixed the grout and applied it. It came out wonderful.
After the floor was done I decided to try my hand at a little drywall. I had left the top half of the drywall up, since the rising water had only damaged the lower half of the room. I measured and cut, and remeasured and recut. I'm not good at math, so I think I had to recut everything twice. They way "Measure twice cut once", but for me, I have to measure three times, just to get it right. But in the end I was successful. The drywall came out great. The electrician who came to put in the new light fixture was impressed when he found out I was the one who did the work.
This got me thinking. Maybe we could drywall my daughter's room, after all...