Christmas in September - New Windows!

The new windows for our bedroom are here, seven altogether, all wrapped up like Christmas morning. Big and heavy, beautiful and frustrating because I have so much planning and research to do before I can actually do anything with them.


These new double-hung windows will replace the old, rusty, drafty casements. We'll be able to open them all the way (unlike the casements, which can only open outward a few inches before smacking into the awning). And the new guys (and all the framing) will be stained pine instead of the painted frames that we had.



Next step: the seven windows will be going into three openings, so I'll be joining the windows into groups of two, two and three. Fun.

A Bedroom Renovation

A steady rain is falling today. It's nap time for Corky and Jam but not yet for me. At this stage of the project, while I'm removing the trim and drywall and making a dusty mess, they're not allowed into the work area, so they sit just outside the door and sigh.


Our bedroom was an add-on to the original house, done probably in the 40s or 50s, at least that's my guess after looking at the drywall that I've demolished so far. It's thinner, harder and more brittle than modern drywall. And, like the rest of the house, there's no insulation in the walls.

Mostly I wanted to be sure that the framing was in good shape to support the new windows that should be here in another four weeks. Everything looks fine.


It's nice to have a project going again, to be working inside and to be demolishing stuff. Once I get all the dust and jagged edges of the way, I'll bring in my project managers to keep me company, if I can wake them up.

Not Going Back Up There

Corky told a joke yesterday. I guess it was funny--who knows? He told it to Jam, not to me.


I'm pretty sure that Corky's joke was about me, probably something about my fear of heights, just because I built that scaffolding instead of using a ladder like a normal person.


But now the roof is done, and I don't intend to ever climb up there again. Yesterday I dismantled the scaffolding, which had the added purpose of protecting the little Kaffir lime tree that is growing near one of the posts.


Whatever Corky said, Jam had a good laugh. I deserved it.

Remembering Sister Agatha

What's wrong with this picture?


To answer that question, I need to transport myself back to Sister Agatha's grade-school classroom. We had just been handed an unusual test, several pages of questions stapled together, probably 100 questions in all, and nothing to do with our class. At the top of the first page, in big letters, it said:

REVIEW ALL QUESTIONS BEFORE BEGINNING!

Of course, I did no such thing, because why should I review questions that I would soon answer. I answered the first question, then the next. No problem, these were a snap.

In about 30 seconds or so, someone stood up and turned in the test. Then another person--I can't remember who, but I do remember the look of self-satisfaction on their faces, whispering some secret to each other. I continued on but then a few more people happily walked up to Sister Agatha's desk.

I worked harder now, faster. Then it hit me--no way they could have finished that quickly. Unless...

I scanned through the remaining questions and there it was, question number 97: "If you'd read this, hand in this test right now. You are done!" Damn.

That's how I felt on Sunday when I discovered that not all the roof tiles are the same. The tapered tiles have a narrow end with a hole. At least the first hundred or so (the tiles on top of the pallet) have a hole on that end. Then I found a tile with the hole on the wide end. Must be a mistake. So I continued on, blind to what I should have known, which is that half of the tiles have a hole on the wide end. I should have gone through all the tiles first, but was I a hurry. Again.

Turns out that the tiles I just discovered are "pan" tiles--they go on the bottom. To fix things I had to remove all the tiles and start over. Yes, Sister. Sorry, Sister. Yes, I will remember to follow directions in the future.

Mission Tile, Tapered vs Straight

Just for fun I sometimes carry on an internal dialog in which I explain, to myself, how something does or should work. I then challenge myself, call myself a naïve, simplistic fool and then demand a better explanation, which I calmly provide to myself in a condescending tone, on and on, back and forth until I can understand a thing or at least pretend that I do.

This weekend I set about explaining to myself about mission roof tiles. I love the way they look and how they fit together and how they last forever. We have straight barrel mission tiles on our house. I've studied them in preparation for the pagoda project, made notes and was prepared to go. When I finally found a place to buy some tiles--it is not an easy thing to do because most places will only sell to an actual roofer--I discovered that the tiles would be tapered mission tiles instead of straight.

"Is that OK?," the guy asked. Because he was selling me the tiles at the contractor's price, I just said "OK."

The tiles came this weekend. Sure enough, they are tapered. But why? I built a little mock-up to lay out the tiles and see if I could understand this. I found a website that described how to lay them out--it's a completely different pattern than the straight tile. Luckily, they are (I hope) exactly what I needed for the curved corners because they have more wiggle room.


I've attempted to hash this out in my mind. I go out and look at the tile and it sort of makes sense. Then I forget. My problem is that I've always had a problem with spatial awareness. For example, I'm upstairs now but I can't point to the location of any of the rooms downstairs. They are just down there somewhere.


If it were not for "left" and "right" I would be continually lost.


The roofing paper is up. Next comes the wooden framework for the tile.

Up on the Rooftop

When Cheryl and I were on one of our first dates, we were walking in a Las Vegas parking garage, on the 4th or 5th floor. Cheryl was being silly and ran toward the railing to look out over the edge. I panicked and grabbed her belt to pull her back, and her belt snapped open and there I was standing with her belt in my hands, babbling at her like a crazy person. I did this because I am so afraid of heights I cannot think straight.

I've been dreading the day when I would need to climb up on top of the pagoda's roof. I tried to do it last week but chickened out. Stepping from the ladder onto the roof seemed like an impossible challenge. And then how would I ever get back on the ladder? Yesterday I built some scaffolding just so I wouldn't have to step off from a flat surface. That's how scared I am.


But the scaffolding wasn't quite enough. I put my 2-foot step ladder up there just so I wouldn't have to make a big step up. Pathetic.


By this morning I had attached all the roof boards that I could while standing on the scaffolding. I slithered up on the partial roof, hugging the boards with my entire body so that the wind wouldn't toss me off (there's no wind today). I attached a few more boards in this really uncomfortable pose.

Then somehow I found a switch in my brain and turned it off. I sat up straight, and everything was OK.


I got the rest of the boards on pretty quickly, at least on this side. And I actually had fun doing it.


Now I have to do the side with no scaffolding... Crap.