There's a Seal on My Driveway

Gawd, I sure do love having the liberty to make up my own titles to these posts.  Like, you know, Seal can be anything.  Let's take a romp around homonym land and find out just what the heck I'm speaking of.

It could be that I invited a black, soulful singer over to serenade the chickens.  They love their R&B.  So does Tom, the cat, especially when he feels like dancing.  Or, it could be that I brought over one of them sea going seals, so that it's oarse "Ar Ar" barking could attempt to rival Goldie's loud and clear "Er Er" crowing.  Funny how animal sounds are spelled so similarly.

You know, I'm all about having wild animals over to the house, especially for dinner.  Seal meat typically isn't considered a gourmet opportunity though, unless, of course, you live way up there in that yonder north arctic area and there is nothing else to eat.  And of course if you consumed that soulful other Seal then you'd be no better than those idiots in the Donner Party.  And believe me, that was no party, especially if it was your femur they put in the soup.

I mean, if those fools had listened to their wives they could have wintered over at the Peppermill in Reno and drank, smoked and gambled instead of dining on one another.  What were they thinking?

Now, if I was considering keeping the seal as a pet that would be silly.  First of all, he's a grown man and I think there are laws against that sort of thing.  And if it was the other seal, then I'd have to get a swimming pool and throw a bunch of salt in it and get truckloads of fish delivered every day and it just wouldn't make any sense, not here in the country anyway.

What else doesn't make any sense is what sorts of wild animals pure and brazen buffoons choose to allow in their living rooms.  And a lot of these idiots don't necessarily live in a country location like I do, many of them live in apartments in the middle of a city.  Pythons, Piranhas, Panthers, Pandas, Parakeets and Picadillos...to name a few.  Here's a link to a documentary movie about this subject aptly titled, "The Elephant in the Living Room."

Well, if it's not them two seals, and it's not Betty Martha Lou's seal of approval on a killer chocolate mousse cake or peach cobbler, then it must be Driveway Sealer 101.  Of course.  The asphalt kind.  Even I knew that. 

OK, straight away, it was a much larger job than I anticipated.  I also used almost twice the original estimated amount of goop (compiled from their estimated coverage area) It went from 15 to 17 to 25 to 27 buckets, and four trips to the store.  Ah chi mama!  What a colossal waste of time.  But, the parking area and driveway not only look great but should be good to go for travel for a another five years.

We've got a long, steep, uphill (from the road) driveway to the house.  The previous owner did a real good thing (probably to make up for the real stupid things he did) back when he had the first one hundred feet or so poured in concrete.  Not only is it the entrance off the road, but it's also the steepest part of the drive.

After that, it had been grey asphalt with a few bad, spidery low spots winding up to a large, gravel parking area next to the house.  We had the parking area asphalted a few months after moving in, and the asphalt guy also hit the five or six really bad spots on the drive with a nice layer of asphalt.   All patched spots have been good, solid band aids so far.  You can see more of this action in "Red Riffs of Rover..."

From Asphalt Kingdom, "Asphalt is a petroleum based product. It is very flexible when it is first laid. As time passes, the petroleum based products (Tar & Bitumen) get oxidized and dry out by the sun. The asphalt becomes brittle when the surface color turns Grey. It now has lost its flexibility and is going to Crack. Asphalt Cracks then lead to Spider cracks which look like alligator skin. Cracks then lead to Pot Holes and deteriorated areas. Then leading to asphalt replacement..."

I couldn't have said it better.  With the main degraded areas covered, over the last year I have been filling and patching smaller cracks with some store bought asphalt goop stuff.  And then, as if by magic, this stuff just appeared on sale at one of the hardware stores in town:

 The first fifteen... 

The concept is pretty simple.  Clean what your sealing then seal.  So, I borrowed a friend's pressure washer and away we go...

 Let the games begin!

 Little soldiers all in a row...
                                        
  
That parking area is about forty feet by eighty feet, give or take a thousand.

It took about an hour and a half to rinse off the asphalt.   After considering this product was supposed to be applied while the surface was still damp, I stopped the rinse at the top of the drive and then began the paint job.  Again, pretty simple.

Open the 4.75 gallon container (What ever happened to five gallons?  I'm glad there's no inflation.)  Stir the goop.  Dump out a manageable amount and then start spreading.  Simple, ya?  Ya...EXCEPT...

They make this squeegee/brush dealy-bob thing that came with a light weight, cheap aluminum handle, maybe fit for a two year old, as long as they were sleeping.  $7.99.

Well, I'm a novice at this sort of thing..or was a novice...I am definitely more than learned at this point in the game.  So, yeah, I bought that and fifteen barrels my first go round.  I think I figured eleven to twelve for the top and three to four for the drive, based on their coverage estimates.

This little task has been HAUNTING me for over a year now.  You are supposed to let new asphalt "cure" and harden for anywhere from three to six months, depending on your source, but not for the eighteen months ours has been languishing in.  Ingress and egress are immense items in my play book, and with a steep driveway like ours it is paramount to stay on top of the game.

I forgot to mention that after our asphalt guy did his extra patch jobs, I made sure there was a good, unobstructed channel for water to run alongside the drive instead of in and over it, which ultimately led to it's now patched complications to begin with.

With cheap aluminum handled brush in hand, I poured my first slop of goop.  First goop of slop?  When stirred, it had the consistency of uncooked buttermilk pancake batter, or a nice, thick interior latex paint, depending on which room of the house you're coming from.

And here's one of the big's not so famous cooking tips, primarily for bakers.  Or pancake enthusiasts.  You can make 1 cup of butter milk by adding 1 tablespoon of cider vinegar to 1 cup of milk.  Let it sit for a couple minutes, and wallah, buttermilk biscuits or pancakes without having to buy a whole quart of the stuff.

So, I poured the first slop in the top corner of the parking area, and hit the edges of the only right angle of the day and rocked from there.  Obviously the edges took a little longer, but it did spread very nicely and evenly.  I had to back and forth it every once in a while to make sure it was getting into all the nooks and cranny's, and then I flipped the brush and would squeegee it along.  Back and forth, push and pull.

Somewhere in the first bucket, the cheap aluminum handle bent.  It could not handle much strain, at all, or any more than a sleeping baby might offer.  Fortunately I was right by the garage and had several 1" thick, five foot dowels.  With a few rounds of duct tape strategically wrapped, I continued my quest.  This cheap thing ultimately wobbled and broke near the end of my project, looking a lot like this:

When I went to the store for my final two buckets, they were out of these cheap handled asphalt brooms.  There were at least twenty other unsuspecting suckers, although I'll bet most of them went through less than a dozen buckets and maybe the handle held on.

I ended up buying a nice, sturdy, wood handle with the same diameter male screw at the end as the female on the brush, and wallah, the BEST handle possible for the last two buckets.  Out of twenty-seven!  The last twelve feet.  Yay.

Anyway, back and forth, push and pull.  Not arduously strenuous, but just a shoot house howdy plethora of repetitions.  And then there was the weight of the bucket, fifty-three pounds each to start with.  So I lifted that weight twenty-seven times.  Then I lifted each bucket when it was 3/4 full, which weighs in at thirty-nine pounds.  Times twenty-seven.  THEN I lifted each bucket when it was half full and then one quarter full.  All told I lifted about three thousand five hundred and fifty-six pounds over this two day, brutal, body building home improvement exercise marathon from hell.  Every muscle on my upper torso felt the pain for a couple days. 

By the time I wrapped the parking area, it was already early afternoon and getting hot.  We've been having an Indian Summer heat wave here in Northern California, which is a great time to be applying the sealer but also getting a little warm for my receptacles.  Or tentacles. I typically won't work outside when it's in the nineties.  Get her done early and then come inside and expound and play on this keyboard. 

By this time I had already realized I didn't have enough product to finish the project, and my friend also needed to have his pressure washer back.  He was in the middle of a few fall projects as well.  So, I decided to finish the wash down the drive, then go into town and get two more buckets of goop and return the washer.  That way I only had a couple buckets to apply in the morning and I would be done...or so I thought.

The next morning arrived fresh and asphalt y clean.  I was sore but game.  I only had three buckets to spread.  Lickity-split.  It'd be less than an hour.  Whatever that means.

After the first bucket, about 9:00 AM, I realized I had no where near enough goop.  This was old, gray, crackly asphalt that probably had not been sealed for centuries.  I calculated I'd need another eight buckets and then jammed to the store.  Early.  Before the crowds.  I had a job to do. And eight buckets would be more than enough...

Continuing on, and getting about twelve feet close to the buckets in the above photo I freaking realized I would need at least one more bucket.  I got two.  Just in case.  I mean, I had been so good already with this estimating thing.  Just three trips, so far.  This would be the fourth.  At about noon.  And the goop store is next to McDonald's.   You know, the one where they serve food, not the Old one.  E i e i o.  It was gonna be chaos, what I usually strive to avoid, unless it is of my own creation of course.  Away I flew.

It was on this last run I also replaced the broom handle.  With twelve feet to go.  Out of a couple hundred.  The perfect, long, strong handle.  For twelve feet.

Well, it was a magical twelve feet I'll tell you.  The BEST twelve feet ever.   The blisters from the cheap, aluminum handle didn't even hurt during that last twelve feet.  Yeah, I got the handle now.  For when I hire someone else to do this in another five years.  Cause I'm gonna be in Mexico.  And it'll be done when I get back.

I ended up with about one inch of goop left in the second bucket...whew. In fairness to the product and their coverage estimates, I was not sealing new asphalt on the drive.  Or anywhere near new.  Their coverage estimates on the new asphalt up top were pretty close, but all bets left the stratosphere when I started on the drive.

And here's the down run towards the curve (below):

And the curve below with wimpy pump house compliments of homeboy.  I put the roof on, it was 1/8" dilapidated plywood.  It'll last another year or two, and then I'll probably enlarge it a bit.  Pump houses are always good for a little outside storage.  That is, of course, if it's not the size of a doll house to begin with.  I can fit a basketball in the one below.

Eggs Eggs Eggs!

My goodness we've got fresh, organic eggs for sale for $3.00/dozen.  Come on down to the farm and lets get eggy!

The Red Riffs of Rover

A funny thing happened on the way to publishing this post.  Besides all the chores that must be done around this fledgling homestead (yes-even with this dang walking-cast for my Achilles tendon problem) and my other part-time job (whatever that is), an old friend stopped by en route to San Diego last Sunday and we had a great visit for a couple three days.

We go back over forty years, went to high school together.  Took some of the best acid ever known to man  back then, had some remarkable teeth-cutting times.  Flew about the galaxy together, danced in the bright white fire of the Gods, transcending time, understanding alls immortality.  Flew with fluorescent flamingos, danced the light fantastic, and then, as it does, life took us in entirely different directions.

I get poetic tendencies from time to time, it's a problem, I know, but please indulge me for a moment.  Then we'll get on to Riffs and such.  I actually put pen to paper a few years back to describe my feelings about old friends.  Amazingly, it's titled, "Old Friends".

OLD FRIENDS

Whiling away the wee hours of morning

Wasting away with indolent care

Travelin through time with bedazzling rhyme

Thinkin ‘bout old friends who are no longer there…

I was walking through the wild mustard meadows of my youth

The days back when, I ran with friends, looking for our truth,

The days before we compromised and pasteurized our themes

The days before we sacrificed and encumbered all our dreams.

Thinking about old friends, I see their faces and names

Old friends, like fine porcelain

Old friends, no make-up or games

Thinking about old friends that knew me before what I became.

Many friendships have blossomed as I’ve wandered this road

Some of them silver, some of them gold

Some have departed, kissed their song to the sky

Their heart to the wind, their memories shine

Old friends, blasts from the past

Old friends, times gone by too fast

Old friends, how could innocence last?

Thinkin ‘bout old friends who knew me before my die was cast

So many memories, so many friends

Life’s pursuits scatter them like leaves in the wind,

But the time and distance will never lessen the glow

Of the moments I’ve shared with each of their souls.

Old friends, they transcend time

Old friends, like a taste of fine wine

Old friends, the feeling’s sublime

Thinkin about old friends who knew me

When we were learning to fly…

One of my friend's occupations is stage rigging for rock shows, one of his passions is a Honda Goldwing.  He is also a video enthusiast with both.  I heartily recommend you mosey on over to Riding and Rigging on Youtube and check out some of his remarkable videos.  Many of you who know me quite possibly know him as well.  And now, back to our regularly scheduled post...

This semi-poetic title reminds me of Irish singing groups for some reason, like the Irish Rovers for instance, or maybe a rocking Irish balladeer, like Van Morrison.  And then there's those Irish foot guys (as my wife likes to refer to them) to think about when considering the Emerald Isle.  Or Riffs even.  Here's a famous riff,  Layla, that was actually riffed by Duane and given to Eric as a party favor while they were playing around together back when.  Probably smoking spliffs.  A riff for a spliff.  Catchy.

And then I can't start "riffing" without mentioning Astro, the Jetsons pet dog. "I ruv you Rorge" he would always say affectionately to his master.  Or not.  Hell, I don't know.  Could be one of those LSD things, you know? 

But the title's not really about that at all.  It's a play on words. I was rather referring to the White Cliffs of Dover, (which of course are on another island altogether over there), or Clifflandia, as we more colloquially refer to my pet project here on the hill in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

Homeboy, as I colloquially refer to the previous owner, did some good things around the place and he did some really weird things.  You can read all about some of his home improvement exploits throughout this here blog.  Anyway, one weird thing he did outside was to plant a few fruit trees right along an embankment edge.

You see, the house sits on about a quarter acre level "pad" in the middle of a sloping 2.6 acre parcel of land.  It slopes up and down from here, and for some reason Homey planted some trees right along the edge.

There's a peach tree directly in the middle of this frame.  The one inch trunk is dead, but there are a couple sprouts at the bottom and I'm going to try and save it if I can.  Just to the right of the peach tree is a HUGE lilac bush.  I currently have about thirty starts in pots already from this glorious Mother bush, and I reckon I'll be slicing off a few more before I'm done.  You'll see what I'm using them for in a bit.

On the inside of the picket fence is an apple tree, which is actually a nice placement.  I am currently in the process of bringing it down to a manageable size, and should have it corralled and producing this next spring. 

From there Homey planted two more fruit trees along the edge and heading back towards the shed.  They're there, right on the end of the level ground.  From there you need The Flying Wallendas to swing on in and cache some of the fruit what lies ore the great beyond.

Steep, huh?

Half the ground is level underneath them, half isn't.  Who in their right mind would do such a thing?  Just because they are living things I have decided to try and work with them.  However, I do have an area already dedicated to becoming an orchard.  I am still in the process of clearing it, so I am probably yet another year away.

The one good thing Homeboy did do was widen the entire parking area once you got up to the house.  Apparently the one lane drive just turned into two lanes at the top, making turn a rounds extremely difficult.
So he got a dozer up to the landing pad and widened things so much that we can now host a Day on the Green concert here.

Being a child of the fifties and growing up in the San Francisco Bay Area in the 1960's and 1970's afforded myself and friends access to some incredible musical moments.  "Days on the Green" were all day concert events put on by the late rock impresario Bill Graham and held at the outdoor Oakland Coliseum, home to the Oakland Raiders and Oakland Athletics.  When not being inundated by hordes of happy, dancing (and sometimes naked) hippies of course.

Of course, these days the Athletics and Raiders attract their own brand of fanatical madness.  Must be something left over in the air from those Days on the Green.

Favorite Day on the Green concert?  Wow, there were so many.  CSNY, The Band, Joe Walsh, Jesse Colin Young.  That was one show.  Fifteen bucks.  The Beach Boys and the Grateful Dead.  That was another show.  The Who and the Grateful Dead.  Another one.  Fleetwood Mac and Peter Frampton.  All for no more than fifteen bucks.

So, the driveway itself is a rather steep and windy affair a couple hundred yards long.  The steepest part, right next to the road, is actually paved with concrete for about one hundred feet.  From there it's asphalt winding up to the top concert arena area, which was just gravel when we moved in.

It was in the budget for a little asphalt paving, which we did have done as soon as the weather cleared enough after moving in.

You may have noticed the subject of this post in almost all the photos above, namely that lovely (and long) cliff that was the result of the parking widening project.  It looks an awful lot like cliffs that have been hydraulically mined for gold around here.  This is the gold country after all.


"Hydraulic Mining was the quickest method of mining gold in placer deposits. Water would be carried to the mining site via canals and ditches where it would go into a hose.

The beginning of the hose was larger and higher than the other end which would have a pipe attached to it, so the weight of the water going into the hose would force it out the other end at great pressure. It was like mining using a fire engine hose, as the jet of water would cut into the hillside, washing the dirt and gravel down into a sluice box. It is important to note, however; that this method of mining, due to the scale of production and speed of extraction, had vast environmental impact."

Of course this area of the Sierra Nevada Foothills was heavily mined for gold during the gold rush of the 1850's (and beyond).  As a matter of fact, The Empire Mine, which sits just outside the city limits of Grass Valley closed in 1956.

The Empire Mine retrieved it's gold from underground shafts, many running deep and for miles under the town of Grass Valley and beyond.  However, you can still see the environmental impact of hydraulic mining at many areas along rivers and streams in Nevada County.

Malakoff Diggins and surrounding territory shows one great example.  Or what the miners were doing in the 1985 Clint Eastwood movie Pale Rider.  One scene in there (when Clint isn't killing anyone) gives you another idea of the impact this abusive form of enterprise had on the environment.  It was finally outlawed on January 7, l884 when "Judge Lorenzo Sawyer declared hydraulic mining illegal. It was believed that hydraulic mining was a selfish act because it caused so much damage to the environment."

So I inherited the Red Riffs, what do I do with 'em?  Well, fortunately when you get below the two or three inches of humus and topsoil this locale is rife with clay.  So, if I want to go completely absurd, I have a red rife riff of ray.   Rorta.  Roe K.  

Subsequently, in the four or so years since he cut the pad the cliff has not suffered that much erosion.   There is some, and of course there will continue to be some unless some form of intervention is staged.  I, of course, am intervening.

The first thing I did was apply some jute fabric along most of the cliff.  This does help hold some of the dirt, mud, rocks and clay together.  It was tacked on with six inch metal hooks.
Before:
                                    
 Jute Added (same area)

And along the wall
                                     

I then attacked and assailed a little isolated patch of Hypericum Calycinum on the property that is located in an area that will eventually be paved over with brick. 

There are about 400 species of Hypericum, and Calycinum seems to be the most common sold at nurseries around here in Northern California.  It is used primarily as a ground cover, is quite vigorous, can tolerate drought and is great for erosion control.  Perfect for my cliff!  This species is different than Hypericum Perforatum, which is the species that is used to obtain St. Johns Wort for herbal remedies.  Betcha didn't know that.

So I have been giving this little area a haircut twice a year now once the rains set in.  I have been clipping and then dipping the ends in a rooting solution and then jamming them into the cliff.  I reckon at this point there's about 120 starts that are alive and kicking.  I would say that this is about a quarter of what has been originally jammed into the clay.

Once this stuff starts, there is no getting rid of it.  It will survive a holocaust, a volcanic eruption, a wild land fire, Armageddon.  Spring.  Deer don't like it and it will grow anywhere!

                                 Poking out in concrete between the garage and driveway skirt.

This little ensemble began with the big patch and has now evolved out to six.  It is much like a multi-level marketing ploy, only none of them have to sell any soap.  Once they start they all happily beget another.  

I figure it will be about three more years for the bare dirt to be getting close to filled in with green.  I think there will still be a few bald spots where there is only clay, but eventually this will all get filled in as well.  Stay tuned, I'll keep you updated.

This early spring, after the ground has been saturated, I plan on starting lilacs all along the top of the cliff.  I want some from of barrier up there, and rather than just putting up a split rail fence (which would look great but not provide any underground support) I want to put something there that will provide more root and underground support.

I've got about 250 linear feet to contend with, and when considering the cost of about the 60-80 plants
necessary for the job cost rapidly became an issue.  I currently have about thirty lilac starts already rooted in pots, with another thirty or so along the way.  There are also several natural shrubs currently sitting along the top of the cliff wall and I have decided I will work the lilacs in and around them.  There is no sense messing with the natural form of species.

The Hypericum and Lilac action will start to the top corner of the parking area and run to where my son and I have carved some steps into the cliff.  You can see a picture of these steps in Chicken Fantasia Land.

After the steps, there's still another thirty linear feet of cliff to contend with, and that I am turning into our own little Spice Island...on a Hill. 

We currently have Parsley, Tarragon, Sage, Thyme, Oregano, Rosemary and a little Lavender (to help attract some bees) in that little corner of the world.  These plants have all now wintered over through some snow on the ground so I am reasonably content they are here for the haul.

I will be adding more spices over time, in one area notably I plan on putting in a couple varieties of mint.  I don't know if you're ever grown mint, but that stuff is hard to get rid of once it gets going.

Those two bars in the above photo are the base for a chin-up bar, which will be getting cut this next summer (hopefully).  It currently serves as the support for the other end of the clothes line, but that little area will be getting its face lift this winter/spring as well as the back patio area.

I still plan on getting this place pretty well fenced this autumn/winter, and with a little luck we'll be able to start adding some color to our landscape.  We've only been able to work with what the deer don't like, and amazingly they don't seem to like any of the above spices.  They all have, incidentally, lavender colored blooms,  which may or may not mean anything in the damn deer munching realm.

Rooster Update

Our rooster Goldie and his harem are all doing fine.  They all seem happy, and all the girls are laying eggs regularly.  One of our Red Stars, Betty, has recently begun a penchant for flying the coop.  It's pretty funny, because once she's outside the fence she spends all her time trying to figure out how to get back in.  And Goldie is usually in an uproar, very concerned one of his girls is out in a potential danger zone where he can't protect her.  Fortunately it's been pretty easy to snag her, pet her for a few moments and then let her back in.

Another thing I have noticed about Goldie has also endeared him to me.  When we come up to their Fantasia Land with a bowl of fruit and vegetable trimming treats, the girls all go crazy, many times squabbling over a piece of fruit when there are forty more a couple inches away.  Goldie will never battle for a treat.  As a matter of fact, if he is eating a treat and one of the hens comes up he immediately defers to her and lets her have it.

He will always make sure all the girls are snacking away before he starts in on anything.  He will also make sure they are all in the cage at night before going in himself.  Although there have been a couple altercations between Rooster and Human, I am still very happy to have him around.  He is an added layer of protection for those hens I never would have considered before.

You can view a video that my friend took of Goldie here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A2bKwW7LvPE&feature=plc as well as hear his roar. 

Refreshing Refurbishment

Let's face it, there's nothing refreshing about refurbishment while you're doing it.  What was I thinking?  Who came up with that title anyway?  It's more like hell while you're doing it.  But it is very refreshing once it's done, it's a brand new home zone.  One sweet sumptuous retreat.  A pleasingly unique boutique.  A new pastel of your favorite vision of paradise, or Shangri-la, even if it's just new lino in the hall bathroom.

Getting from point A to B was a home making marathon, or a really mean spirited musical ballet, depending on what's playing on the music box.  I mean, everything being done had to be choreographed according to who, what, when, where and pant size.  And then there was the massive parade of must be dones before we moved in.  Maybe those are the same things.  Or was that the sub-contractors in tights with tool belts and steel-toed boots, working to some rhythm of La Boheme that had to be choreographed?   Or maybe it could have been "La Bayadere Remodelair", or "Midsummer's Night Dream Paint Job", or "Don Quixote, Designer to the Stars".

As I have mentioned in previous posts, we recently bought our current home via a short sale coming up on two years.  It's been a whirlwind.  And I just got back from the Doc and am supposed to be sidelined for six weeks.  It's wood bucking and splitting time.  I've got about six cords of wood that need to be all that plus get stacked for winter.  Not sure how this is gonna work, but I'm thinking an improvised plastic bag tied up over the boot.  Or a noose around the neck.  Whichever is less painful.

I've got an Achilles tendon problem with my right leg, it has been a problem for over four months, ever since I hurt my back working on Chicken Fantasia Land.  This homesteading stuff is not for the faint of heart, or weak of spirit.  Or older of body apparently.

So I am in this knee high strap on boot thing, a Cam-Cast I believe it's called, which isn't sensual by any stretch of a tendon and essentially doesn't allow any achilles tendon stretching either.  I think.  I have been over-stretching it daily, I mean, we're on a hill here.  And I got big doins.   Up and down.  Side and out.  

                                                                    Das Boot

So, before I went off on my ranting whine, we bought this place on a short sale two years ago.  As a short sale goes, the house was not in terrible condition.  It had suffered pretty severe obsolescence, the previous homeowner was going through a divorce as well as having an upside down mortgage situation type thing.  I can see that after a while there would be less reason to continue to keep things up around the old ranch.

He left it probably as clean as he could, at least there was no debris.  Some of these places these days ARE TRASHED, with truck loads of garbage that needs to be hauled away before you can even see the floor. Or the front door for that matter.

We had done several walk throughs prior to close of escrow, and we also had all the appropriate inspections done as well.  The septic needed some work, but other than that there were no other potential MAJOR issues.  The well (for water) was fine and except for a couple of small hiccups and burps the electrical and plumbing was in good shape and up to code.  (The roof was in bad condition, but that was taken into consideration when making the offer.  We now have a new Lifetime comp roof along with new Leafguard rain gutters.  We get tons of leaves and pine needles around here and those gutters are the best you can get.  I'll never have to clean rain gutters again as long as we live here!)

The main issue with the house we had to contend with was aesthetics, which is fine and dandily daunting enough when taken into largesse.  We love the layout and the "bones" of the house (for the most part), but there were color and date issues abounding.

All the existing wall to wall carpet had to go and all the existing wallpaper had to disappear, to begin with.  And there was a lot of both.  Fixtures.  Appliances.  A tile floor.  A million other assorted odds and ends.  And then paint.  Top to bottom.  Every room, closet, nook and derriere.  We had a projected move in date less than two months away with twenty-five family members descending for Christmas seven days later.  Crazy?  Just a little.

On my mark, get set...Fortunately, we had done all this before.  Not all at one time, but in stages.  We've done some remodeling on every home we've ever owned, just not on such a massive scale and all at once.

My wife is an excellent interior decorator and has many fantastic ideas.  I gave up the interior decorating thing early on in our marriage, once I knew she had great taste and it wasn't all going to be unicorns and cowboys.  Or velvet nudes of penguins.  I was into rustic jungle paisley when we first met, so it was easy to slide into the contemporary sort of shabby chic she does so well.  Yeah, she's got good taste.

With her on the front line I took on the role of "Underbelly Guy" long ago.  I can do a fair amount of a lot of things around a house, not on par with my brother, who is a whiz at everything construction.  Or Bill O'Rielly, who is just a wizz.  I can get most things done with a B rating, sometimes flirting with an A-. 

So, as my adorable wife compiled a truck load of paint chips, fixture and cabinet hardware flyers along with about five thousand decorating magazines I began the demo.  She also began a weekly Sunday morning pilgrimage to Home Depot, which became our 2nd church of choice for a few months..  We also became online members of ConsumerReports.org so that we could have some trusted recommendations of a wide variety of home improvement purchases at our finger tips.

The first thing to come out was the carpeting.  Then the padding.  Then all them randomly whacked staples until I got a beautiful, ice skatingly perfectly level plywood sub-floor.  Then I ripped up all the cheap baseboard and piled all that up on the front deck for a bonfire later.  But not on the front deck.  The bonfire that is.

Meanwhile a professional painter was beginning on the kitchen while all the other commotion was going on.  My wife likes bright, and that meant paint the cabinets, which were of good quality and in good condition.  They just needed a face lift.  I paint pretty good, but I'd rather hire that out.  That's a fine, oil base spray after a ton of prep.  We used Chris Sgambati Painting in Grass Valley, and they did a FABULOUS job.  Here's a before:

And an after:

Brighter!

Also in this picture are new appliance additions.  The oven to the front left, dishwasher on the very far right, and new light fixtures on the ceiling.  There's new cabinet hardware, which adds up when you're replacing a kitchen full.  That butcher block island was a garage sale find by my sister.  A deal and steal and it works perfectly for our needs.

And then there's "Hal", the most massive microwave we've ever owned, front and center there.  It talks to you.  Can you hear him?  I can.  He can take your temperature.  Give you a bath.  Massage your temples if you have a headache.

You could fit an entire housing project in Hal's bowels, or maybe a half a moose.  You could probably get a half a moose in there.  Maybe.  If you cut it up and stuff.  Got rid of the antler.  That would help a lot.

The place did not have a built-in microwave, so another one of those quick choreographed things for me to do was tear out that little cabinet directly over the range.  Once that was out, the painters were turned loose in there.  Well, I also had to remove another cabinet to the left of the main fridge so we could add a mini "wine" fridge.  THEN the painters were turned loose while I ambled elsewhere.

Another initial project was removing built-in book cases from the living room.  Some folks might like 'em, and we do too, only not in the living room.  One now sits in the sun room, actually right on the other side of the wall from where it was brutally removed.  The other is in the garage.  This action brought us a "cleaner" environment as well as a few more square feet.

The photo below shows one book case.  The other was to the left of the french doors, which are directly to the left of the bookcase below. 

They came off the wall pretty easily.  Things usually do if you have a big enough hammer and use enough C-4.

Our living and sun room furniture is currently a mish-mash from several different rooms that were purchased for an entirely different house many miles and several moons ago.  Until my wife gets a total "feel" for what the room requires, we've got a carnival of colors and vast array of styles.  A splash of unique Shabby Chic.   A little Classic Medieval Contemporary Norwegian Funk.  A little Neo-Classical Traditional Eclectic Swedish Art Deco.  A little Retro Goth.  A little Jetsons.  It works..for now.  

After the carpets and baseboard were removed, I spent a day mini-jack-hammering tile out of the garage entry/utility/hall/foyer type area.  Only about 250 square feet of it, but it killed me.

The last (and only major) time I jack hammered anything was a driveway at the last house we owned.  I did that a day after donating blood.  You know, after they tell you that you should avoid strenuous exercise for 72 hours.  There's a reason for that.  Stamina lasts for oh, a millisecond or so.  Then it's just real tough to trudge through anything.  But there was a timing issue and it had to be done.  The jack hammer thing that is.

My son in law and I chopped down a tree with an axe a couple hours after donating blood one time.  It was a lumberjack challenge thing.  My chain saw was in the shop and he wanted to be a lumberjack.  We hacked and we hewed and we huffed and we puffed but we got it in the end.


Part of the tile came up like butter, but the other 245 square feet of it was inches at a time.  Hours.  It took me hours to tear it all up!  It makes me tired just thinking about the physical exertion, the clouds of dust, the freaking loudness of a jackhammer in an enclosed space.  Even with ear protection x2, foam in and headband out.  It was way louder than the front row at a Stones show or an indoor alcohol fuel infested tractor pull..

Next on the demo adgenda was the existing wallpaper, which had to go one way or another.  Back in my impetuous beer drinking youth I once helped a friend remove wallpaper from a small home he was renting.  Seven layers worth.  A lot of work for a rental, but he did stay there for five years.  Some guys played billiards when they drank beer, we removed wallpaper.  What were we thinking?  There was probably weed involved too.  As a bribe you know.  As a matter of fact, I'm sure of it.

I removed the wallpaper in the bathrooms, all three of 'em.  I am no stranger to this, and was prepared for a tough job, but it actually came off pretty easily.  It was a huge mess of course, and the clean-up probably took more time than the actual removal.  I used one of these little gizmo's, a Zinsser scoring tool, which scores the paper first.  Then I hit it with a stripper, like Zinsser, but NOT a stripper like Carol Doda , because if she showed up nobody would get anything done.   We'd all be helping with her wheel chair and stuff.

So anyway, I let the stripper soak for a while.  I mean the warm bath water apparently really helped her aching muscles.  It also dissolved the wallpaper glue, so that most of the paper peeled off like a St Bernard after a snow bunny in a blizzard, or Carol Doda's lingerie forty-seven years ago.   It takes her a littler longer these days. 

There was also wallpaper in the hall and dining room.  Rather than removing it, I painted over it with an oil based primer, paying special attention to the edges and seams.  After that we simply painted the latex color of choice over the primed wallpaper.  A word of caution when working with that oil based stuff, have a lot of ventalition and use a good mask.  Or, if you'd rather have the circus come to town inhale freely and frequently.  What did the first painters do besides go mad?

Here's the before and after of the dining room:

That chandelier was an estate sale find by my lovely bride.  We had to reinforce the bar the electric box is on up in the attic.  Another one of those immediate unforseen yet highly important improvements.  It's now so strong monkeys can swing from it and we won't have to worry about them falling into your soup.  If you were invited over for dinner for instance.

Once the basic demo was complete I rented an airless sprayer and hit the garage, ceilings and all the closets of the entire house with a round of essential white.  I had done the basic prep the day before and spent a day on the shoot.  I was then able to stage everything in the garage and closets and continued with the preparation of the rest of the house for paint.

This included all light and electric fixture removal (including all face plates-which were replaced) and spackling all cracks, holes, crevasses and ravines.  (This of course had been part of my initial "closet" prep.)  This also meant going all around the door and window trim.  I'm a stickler for no visible lines around trim, although I do like tan lines around the trim of the feminine mystique.  I went through one hundred forty-four tubes of caulk when I did the exterior paint job on our last house.  It's a problem, I know.

Anyway, while all this demo stuff was going on my wife was running back and forth to hardware, appliance and flooring stores.  She was working as hard as I was, and that's why we make such a good team.  We went through Youngs Carpet One for our carpet and hardwood flooring.  We've known them for years, and that's how a lot of stuff gets done in a small town.  Anyway, we were on their calendar for an early December installation, which was our prime time motivator.  With the holidays coming, we didn't want to miss our install window with them.

We were also both working full time jobs throughout this fun experience, which meant every spare waking moment was spent on the refurbishment.  We were even there together painting Thanksgiving morning.

And even as I kept a steady frantic pace I realized I wasn't going to be able to get it all done.  Our painter had a couple other jobs going, but he generously was able to fit us in to basically do the finish painting throughout the interior of the house.  They did it in a couple days.  It would have taken me at least twice that, if not longer.  And  I was able to continue with other pursuits.

Throughout and during all this painting, new electric lights and mirrors were being installed in the bathrooms  and new lights and two new ceiling fans were being installed in the foyer and living room.  We also installed all the new appliances in the kitchen.

We didn't put in a new range.  It is a gas range top, and is aesthetically and functionally fine.  We will eventually replace it down the line because our current oven is kinda small.  We didn't realize this until we had to special order it.  It was either that or start replacing cabinets, which gets expensive quick.   Another one of those really tweaky things about the house.  Maybe the people that built the place never had to roast a 240 pound turkey.

So, rather than redoing all the kitchen cabinetry just to get a right size oven, we're gonna eventually tear out the existing range (and cabinet housing) and put in a free standing oven and range.  That will give us the double oven capacity we need every once in a while and not cost us too darn much money.  We'll just have to figure out what to do with all the pots and pans. 

And then there was "Hal", the largest microwave we've ever known.  He was an incredible challenge to install, even with the help of a dear friend who is also a part time electrician and general all purpose handy man.   We had to do some wrangling and dangling to get him in place, but the wall will now have to come down to get  Hal down!  Come to think of it, he's kind of integrated himself throughout the entire house now.  It's like this is his house now, and we gotta do stuff for him.  I feel like I should be living on Elm Street.  Help, somebody get me out of this sci-fi horror movie.  Whew, where were we? 

Our house is kinda tri-level, with the main body on a foundation.  Then next to the garage and on a concrete slab is the guest room, utility annex, guest bath and pantry.  (That's the area I had to jack hammer.)  It's great in the summer because it always stays cool down there. ( I say down, it's only four steps up to the main level.)  But it also stays cool in the winter, and since there is house above it and concrete below the forced air does not have any way to get into that area.

The bathroom has a real nice ceiling heater, which many guests mistake for a fan.  It can get real hot in there real quick when its 95 degrees outside!  And then there is an electric wall heater in the bedroom.  It is now correctly installed on a "long" wall, rather than a short one.

You see, it all had to do with our guest bed, which is a real nice queen.  Not Freddie Mercury, who was a real flamboyant queen.  There was only one wall where the bed would fit, and unfortunately that was the wall the heater was installed on.  So...I took the heater off the wall (after ensuring the power was off to the dandy devil) and disconnected all the fittings.  Then, as exquisitely as possible, I cut a line in the sheet rock and removed it all about twelve inches above the floor.   This went on for about six feet along on one wall and another five or so on the other.  With the studs now open I drilled one inch holes through about all six or eight or forty-nine of them to allow for the 220 amp wire to be run.  I encountered some concrete foundation in the corner, so we had to razzle dazzle a little up and over and around to accommodate that unforeseen uncertainty.

My electric friend put all the connections together and once the wire was run and the heater connected I replaced all the removed sheet rock.  Taped.  Textured.  Painted. Giddy-up.

All this fun and frolic bled from days into weeks, with stuff slowing evolving and getting done.  I also had to spend a couple days helping on the septic system as well as sundry assorted things on the exterior, one notably was the cliff, which will be the subject of my next post.  

Once the paint was complete the new flooring was brought in.  That was a couple week project for the professionals.  The carpeting only took a couple days, but the new hardwood was about a week and a half.   And about a week after that, somewhere around December 16th we moved in.  Seven days later family descended for the holidays.  It was sheer and utter chaos, just the way I apparently thrive.  But we were in!

The baseboard came about one year later in two stages.  It's one of those things that's really missed when it's not there, but it's not really noticed that much once it's up.  The first stage was right before our second Christmas here.  I did all the downstairs (except for the utility and guest areas) as well as the upstairs landing.  A couple months later I did the guest room and utility area as well as the master bedroom.  There are only two rooms left to do, my office and my wife's library, or the other guest room. Those two will fall this winter.

Another initial priority was putting some window film on our west facing living room windows.  We fried a two thousand dollar sofa with sun damage in Monterey and I won't let that happen again.  And then when we moved some good furniture into the sun room I had to do all those windows too.  And then I weather proofed that darn room, eventually caulking and painting the tongue and groove ceiling as well as the rest of the room, which includes about eight windows.  Hell, the walls are all trim!  .  Am I a glutton or what?  But now, once my wife gets around to it, we have a just about ready room to go.  All we'll need to do is upgrade the floor.  And since it's an un-in-sulated addition (the sunroom) the flooring will be quite casual.

There will be ongoing upgrades as time moseys on, but the biggest push is through.  And the big thing that got me through this last move (five moves in five years) was that this will be the last move.  The kids will have to take all this crap out of here.  And we've got a lot of crap.  OK, probably a few good things as well.  Like my wife's porcelain and tea pot collection.  She's got to collect all these beautiful (and breakable) pieces which take up like four of the large china moving boxes when we were moving around.  I've been after her to collect stamps for years, especially because they would have all fit in a cigar box and I could have put them under the seat.

Paul Bunyan Update

Well, Paul and his Blue Ox never came by, but my brother-in-law did with his mondo wood splitter.  I was able to wrap up my cast with a plastic bag and pillow case, though by the end of my escapade they were pretty well thrashed.  Got to find something with canvass on the bottom.  Rubber clown shoes maybe.  Size 36 large.  You can see more wood pictures at Where's Paul Bunyan and his Big Blue Ox.

After

Before

Mister big stuff right there up there split like a wilted twig, or a musk melon cleaved with a butter knife.  He was no match for the Troy Built Hemi.  Took the first split right in the saddle, then kept slicing around.  Some of the larger rounds from an oak cut a year and a half ago were still wet.