New Fixtures

For quite a while we've been experimenting with the lights out front. First with Christmas lights that tucked under the awnings, then with lights on the banisters, and to do this I ran the power directly from the light sockets of our existing fixtures, which we had abandoned as actual lights because the blue glass sleeves had long since fallen out and broken. An ugly mess, with wires hanging here and there. Because the big party is coming up, we decided to get new fixtures.

Picking out new light fixtures with Cheryl was certain to be difficult. She has one thing in mind, and I another, and so it goes for most things. But there in the store we looked up and said, in unison, that we both liked the same fixture. Sweet.

They have a yellowish stained glass that seems to go well with the house color. Installation was a snap, and now we have these nice geometric shapes to replace the chaotic clutter from before.

Christmas means hanging up my favorite ornament, a red chili with green sparkly top. I don't know why, but this thing makes me happy.

Otherwise, everything is pretty much on hold until after the parties. No more deadlines for now. Our big dog party is coming up, and Coach has a new coat.

Then our friends fly in for Christmas. I remain a lucky guy.

Effervescence

For the longest while I've been aggravated by a strange situation in the downstairs bathroom. At first I thought it might be mold--what else would explain the bubbling paint and white powder beneath? Yes, they looked very much like bubbles of paint on the wall, pustules of paint. Microscopic creatures might be extruding gas, I thought, but how would it bubble paint that was already dry?

And under the paint was a whitish powder. But no, the internet told me, mold is not powdery (it is sticky). The paint bubbles that I'm seeing are probably to do effervescence, a chemical reaction of the lye in the plaster reacting to water.

Of course, I believed it was effervescence because the Internet said so. The actual truth of the matter is of no consequence.

I did notice, however, that when I put some sheet rock compound on the wall to smooth it out, the compound bubbled up (and it is very sticky stuff). Even Cheryl noticed the bubbling, and she said so, which she probably regretted because it then drew her into a discussion with me about it, and I'm sure that quickly bored her to tears.

I knew what to do. More later...

Considering the Back Yard

It's 9 pm and I realize that I haven't written a post in a while, not a word even though many fascinating things have happened to me in the past few weeks.

In particular lately I am just amazed at how interesting each day can be. I look forward to my pot of tea first thing in the morning, and then to my first and then second cups of coffee later on. As noon approaches I am caught up in my private world of programming, one that never gets old (but should, if only I had some ambition or basic curiosity about life or art). Lunch time is a miracle--I can eat anything I like: okra, beans, soup. And then back to work and more programming and emails, solving one meaningless problem after another, watching them go up in smoke, one after another, a stupid way to make a living but one that I never get tired of. Then Cheryl comes home and we have some time together. And then it is time to go to bed again. Every day is oddly wonderful.

Last weekend I finally finished the stairs project. Here is a picture of it, prepped for the final coat of paint on the sideboards.

The project that will capture my attention for the next several months is the back yard. It is a real jungle, and by next spring I hope to have it completely transformed, with a new, high fence and new landscaping to replace the wilderness.

The jungle has played an important role, though. It has kept hidden the two ugly buildings in the neighboring yards. More later.

Stone Oven

I've been ignoring the old stone oven in the back yard for years. On more than one occasion I tried to use it as a grill, but it was a failure, or rather I was the failure. After looking at some articles, I realize now that this is probably meant to be used as a slow-cooker oven instead of a grill. So I've cleared off the vines (almost) and am ready to give it a shot

First, it is pretty big, about 6 feet. It has an oven door in the front.

The grate sits about 10 inches down from the top.

And under the grate (behind the door) it has a big space, probably about 2 feet from the floor to the grate, almost 2 feet wide and 2 feet deep.

And a stone shelf extends to the right, at the same level as the grate, and it's about 8 inches high.

So how should this be used? My guess would be to put the food in the shelf to the right, put the charcoal into the box (a bunch of it), put some wet wood on the coals and then completely close off the opening above the grate so that the smoke is pulled up the chimney. This would keep the food away from direct heat. I guess I should use a thermometer to be sure.

Sound like a good plan?

An Encounter with Black Paint

Everyone ought to bear patiently
the results of his own conduct.
- Shakespeare

This weekend I had the opportunity and good fortune to paint the metal frame of our big awning on the back porch. The awning canvas is away at the shop being adjusted, so the frame--a collection of steel pipes with black paint that has been peeling away for years--is bare.

First step was to sand the pipe to remove the loose paint. But before that I put some plastic tarp on the patio, just in case I might spill some paint on the stone. Of course the flecks of loose paint went everywhere, especially on the top of my head.

I had planned ahead. At Home Depot I bought spray paint and a can of paint, just in case. But the spray paint was messed up--the spray cap didn't fit, and when I tried to make it fit the paint went in all directions. I tried again and again, thinking that maybe it was a test of wills, but now my hands were covered in paint. Then it occurred to me that I might be able to discharge the contents of the can into a plastic container and then use a brush. Seemed like a good idea at the time. In the process, the plastic tarp became saturated, and some of the paint leaked onto the patio.

About an hour later, after scrubbing the stone with paint thinner and putting down a new tarp, I was back on track. No problem, I thought calmly, I'll just use the paint from the can, but when I opened it I discovered that it was sparkling white instead of the black that I needed. I stared at the white paint for quite a while just to be sure it was not black. It was not at all black.

I could just quit, but the frame would rust without paint, and I won't be able to paint it after the canvas is stretched on.

Wow. I realized that this was one of those very important moments when I have the opportunity to test the limits of my character instead of screaming and hitting things. More later...

Dealing with the Details

Now that the tile is up, I'm faced with the nit-picky tasks of finishing the trim work on both sides. Given just a quick thought, a person (or a project manager) might see this as a trivial single task, just a quick swipe of paint and be done with it. But no, if things are to be done correctly, many steps and many types of work are required.

To start, I spent time yesterday cutting out little triangles of trim and gluing them into place so that the molding would be square under the corner of the step. No one would ever know about this if not for my plan to tell it to every single person who steps into the house.

Next I put on strips of joint tape and then joined the edges of tile to the wood trim. This will need another application or two, just to even it out. And then I'll tape everything and paint.

To our project managers this all looks like busy work. They are impatient now because the tile went up so quickly, and now they are certain that I'm dragging my feet. They don't realize that the worst is yet to come--I still need to grout and apply the silicone, and in this regard I admit that I am especially hesitant to go forward quickly.

The grout will be too white, I fear, and will look funny against the tile. And depending on my mood at the time, I may not care. I have a mood, a personality, a person inside me that is not allowed to work on projects. He does not give a damn if the grout color does not match. He tends to fix things with a hammer. For the most part, he is allowed only to watch TV and walk the dogs. Oh, and mow the lawn and pull weeds. Anything that is not permanent...