Grill Area, A Pattern Emerges

The start of any project is ugly. Demolition creates a disturbing chaos, visually and emotionally, because we can't be sure that such destruction is necessary. After all, someone years ago installed the concrete picnic table in our back yard, and no doubt they stood back to gaze at it with affection. I'm sure they had some pleasant dinners on that table, but not us--we've neglected it, let it grow mold, and never once had a meal on it.

And the picnic table was in the spot where I plan to build the new grill area. But what to do with half a ton of concrete? Break it up and throw it away? No, I decided to knock it down and use it as a foundation for the stone patio, elevated so that a heavy rain doesn't flood the grill. It just took a few minutes and the table top and benches were flat on ground. No going back now.

Then I moved some of the old concrete tiles to complete the base area. A pattern began to emerge from the chaos. I filled in the gaps with rubble, like paint on a canvas, and the pattern came to life.

I almost ran into the house to get Cheryl. "There's something really beautiful in the yard I'd like you to photograph," I said to her with some pride.

We walked out and she curled her eyebrows at me. "Are you kidding?" she asked.

"You can make it beautiful," I said. (After all, I did get her that really nice camera lens for Christmas...)

"OK," she said, "but we aren't going to actually see this, are we?"

I explained that it will be under the stone.

A future homeowner will uncover my artwork some day and wonder why we buried a perfectly nice picnic table. Maybe I should leave a note.

The Secret Jam Cam

On Wednesday we installed some surveillance cameras so that we can watch the dogs while we are out. Specifically, we hoped this would give us a chance to have a normal and relaxed Thanksgiving dinner at our friends house while Jam was home alone. Here's what happened.

2:15pm
The dog have been walked and pooped and fed early. The house has been picked up so that Jam doesn't have any obvious temptations. I walk Cheryl to the car but then come back inside so that Jam might think it's a normal work day. Cheryl pulls out of the driveway. I come back into the house and watch TV for a second, then I go out the back door to trick Jam into thinking that I'm just doing some yard work and will be back soon. I walk around the house and then get into the car with Cheryl.

2:20pm
We turn on the iPhone app that controls the cameras in the house. I expect to see Jam at or near the back door, waiting for me to come back. But there's no Jam. I switch to the living room camera. We can take pictures of the video feed, so I got this one of him on the couch looking out the window to the driveway. I love this.

He knew I was lying about working in the back yard, but he's not sure where I am. We drive away.

2:25pm
I switch to the kitchen cam, and there is Jam snooping around, checking out the counter tops. Bad boy. But there is nothing frantic about him--he's calming walking around.

2:26pm
Then seconds later we can see that he's opened a cabinet door (despite the baby locks) and he's taken out one piece of Tupperware (see the arrow) and put it on the floor.

No big deal, but we circle back to the house. Cheryl parks on the street and watches Jam on video while I run around to the back door and come back inside, as though I had been working in yard the whole time. I put the Tupperware away and give him a mild scolding. Jam is truly surprised to see me.

2:30pm
We're back on the road. We can see Jam at the backdoor. Then minutes later he is taking a nap. We are relieved to see this.

2:30 - 6:00pm
We continue to check throughout the afternoon, and Jam slept the whole day. What a relief to see that he is not stressed out. We had a very pleasant day as a result.

6:00pm
It's dark outside so the cameras have gone into nighttime mode. Here are Willow and Jam, sleeping on the couch in the living room.

We had a very nice Thanksgiving.

Filling the Tiny Cracks

My allergies continue to fill my head with so much fluid that I can barely think. One good thing about keeping a blog is that I can go back and check my memory, specifically to find out when my allergies were ever this bad. Was it in October? Yes, turns out it was in October 2011. So maybe it's something in the October air.

Unfortunately, I am unusually tired all the time, the type of fatigue that prevents me from concentrating for long. And almost everything that's worth doing requires some concentration.

Over the weekend I decided to tackle another area of the patio, replacing the sand (and dormant weeds) in the cracks with mortar. But unlike the walkway that I recently grouted, the big patio was laid with stones very close together in places--my thinking at the time was that tiny cracks would discourage weeds from moving in. But I discovered that weeds love those tiny cracks.


If I were floating in the mortar, the job would go pretty quickly. But I don't want to stain the stone, so I'm tucking in the mortar (using very dry mortar and pressing it into the cracks). And tucking the grout into those tiny cracks requires real patience. After a couple hour of this on Sunday I was exhausted, physically and mentally. What a pathetic creature I am...


At this rate I may not finish before Florida sinks beneath the sea. I will finish it, though, even if I need to get some scuba gear.

Remembering Frames Past

Like with the upstairs bathroom, I'm reluctant to remove anything that has some history to it, but the old tiles in front of the fire place were dull and stained and beyond reviving. I'd made the same decision about the bathroom tiles, but not until after a few weeks of hand-wringing.

Since we had plenty of left-over tiles from the stairway project, we thought they might also look nice by the fireplace. The first challenge was to build a beveled frame for them using some left-over oak boards from the old kitchen floor. Jam felt the need to supervise me closely, because cutting wood on a angle and then making a frame takes patience. Here he is, pretending to be asleep so that I take my time. Clever dog.


I took some art classes in college, and in one of them we learned to stretch the canvas and make a simple frame for our painting. Looking back, all I can remember now is that frame, looking at it and probably thinking about how I could have done a better job--I'm certain that the stuff I painted inside the frame was hopeless crap. Oh well, some of us just make the frames.


A few coats of varnish and now it blends in with the floor OK. I still need to grout, probably a dark color, but I'm in no hurry. The fun part is over.

Doggy Speed Bumps

Our dogs have no regard for the welfare of our floors. I just spent an entire week sanding, with machines and by hand, to remove the years of doggy toe-nail gouges from the oak planks in our living room, and then I carefully applied three coats of a tough polyurethane to the surface so that it now looks smooth and healthy again.

But to the dogs, the stupid floor is more slippery than ever, forcing them to either walk slowly (which is no fun at all) or to extend their toe nails and run like wild animals.

Unfortunately, floor varnish takes several weeks to cure and harden. It is very vulnerable at first. Even after I explained this, the dogs do not care--I just get blank stares. They love to run from the bottom of the stairs down to the kitchen, like race cars spinning out and losing control on the track, and they will not see my side of things.

Then I realized that if I strategically placed some chairs in the path, they would not be able to generate enough speed to do any harm.

A photo of our living room with two chair where no chairs should be

So now they walk like little angels through the maze of chairs. Ha, ha.

Sanding around the Piano

Our new bamboo was delivered this week, and as always there's a ton of yard work to do. But since Cheryl is out of town for a week and since we are down to two dogs now instead of our normal three, the foot traffic in our house is at an all time low, a perfect time for me to refinish the living room floor.

For the past 10 years our dogs have been racing through the living room in a blur, their nails scratching and grinding, making me cringe every single day. (But they are having so much fun--who could be mad?) In the morning the hoard is always in a hurry to get to the kitchen for breakfast. In the evening it's a race to see who can get up the stairs first. The poor oak boards are now pitted, gouged and defiled.


I played in a band for years, and I carried a real baby grand piano (a cheap one) from club to club, moving it often by myself, so I didn't expect a problem moving my Petrof a few inches. I bought some heavy-duty furniture moving pads to make it easier. But it took all my strength just to lift one corner of the piano while Cheryl slipped the pads in place. And then it would not budge, and I'm afraid to push too hard. (I had a piano collapse once when one of the legs gave way.) So the piano stays put and I'll finish around it.


Today I removed all the baseboard molding, and I figured out how to remove the spindles from the railings. It was a long day for sure.


Everything is wrapped in plastic, ready for the sanding tomorrow. But will the scratches come out--I have no idea...

More later.