So very cold

The heat is blasting, and so are the humidifiers. We've got a sheet of ice caked onto the downstairs bathroom and office windows - but finally, the temperature has broken zero!

Times like this I miss my old radiator-heated apartments where I didn't have to pay for heat and it was nearly too warm.

One down, 10ish to go!

I shrink wrapped my first window this afternoon before realizing I needed to use the fleeting daylight to clean out the last of my planters.

I tackled the living room window, since a stiff breeze has been weasling its way into my living room. I planned not to spend too much time striving for the wrinkle-free perfection, since it's only a temporary solution until early January, but it's hard to do a half-assed job on something like this.

I've learned over the years that it's not worth the effort to lay everything out on the floor and measure perfectly. (Plus, Collette tended to attack my perfectly-measured sheets, occasionally puncturing them with her over-zealous claws.) Rather, I put the double-sided tape all around, peel back the sticky side on the top border, and gently place it until I get it about right. Then, I make the major cut, separating the designated piece from the giant sheet. I leave plenty to work with, though. It's not worth the headache to try to line it up just right with no wiggle room, especially since so many of my windows are taller than I am and thus my perspective gets thrown off.

Next, I press gently all the way around - saving the bottom for last - until it's pretty well distributed and even. Before I start shrink wrapping, I punch my holes for the blinds (which I spent AN HOUR scrubbing this afternoon. They were gross!), so we can adjust the height and open/close them.

Then, the shrinky-dink part begins. I wield my hair dryer with the same gusto I would a drill, starting in an upper corner and, on high heat, constantly moving from side to side, targeting the visible wrinkles. I never rest too long - rumor has it that doing so can actually melt or burn the plastic, not that I would know that from experience.

Finally, with things pretty well wrapped - I could bounce a quarter off my window film! - and no visible wrinkles, I try to carefully trim off the excess. This part can be the downfall of the entire endeavor, as today. The scissors I was using weren't nearly sharp enough, so they struggled to cleanly cut the plastic. In one place, I accidentally tore my newly-perfected plastic, leaving a gouge that needed immediate repair. It's such a delicate balance - how much do I try to trim without risking ruining my work?

The real test was when Don got home and couldn't tell the window had been wrapped, except for the blind adjuster thing (wand? stick?) that sticks out at a slightly cock-eyed angle.

Victory!

Now lather, rinse and repeat several more times. If I do one a weekend, I'll be done by Valentine's Day, so I'd better step it up.

Basement Gaps

Collette LOVES the gaps in my basement walls. I'm always afraid she's going to get trapped some day! I've sealed up some of the worst offenders, but every now and then, when coming downstairs, I'll suddenly see eyes peering at me from the ceiling.

Book Review

I've often felt a bit like a pioneer, staking my claim in a transitioning neighborhood, crossing my fingers, and hoping for the best. Sure, I do as much as I can, but some situations - like the foreclosure next door - are beyond my control.

I was naive when I bought. No, scratch that. I was blinded by the thrill of the whole experience. I just assumed that suburban neighborhood equaled safe, especially after my time living on the South Side. Of course the neighborhood was fine. I did cursory due diligence, driving by at different times of day, and took a quick walk around the block on the blustery March day of my inspection. But I didn't talk to the neighbors, ignored the wildcard factor of the rental next door, and just assumed that the vacant pink building across the street would continue to be innocuously vacant. Or perhaps it would hold a tea shop that hosted a knitting circle of blue haired grannies who snacked on pastries.

That's why the emergence of the drug dealers next door was such a shock to the system. Where had I moved? And how was I supposed to get rid of them? Fuming under my breath didn't work, and nor did the hairy eyeball. I couldn't exactly go up to them and say, "Hello, Mr. Crack Dealer. On behalf of the Welcome Wagon, we ask that you please stop dealing. Thanks. Now, would you like to attend our neighborhood barbeque?"

Now, however, things have improved greatly (fingers crossed). Which is why I could read Judith Matloff's Home Girl: Building a Dream House on a Lawless Block and sympathize, laugh and realize it could have been much much worse.

I saw a review for this book and found the premise very interesting. Judith Matloff and her husband - seasoned journlists with stints in Rwanda, Chechnya and South Africa - bought an old brownstone in dire need of a lot of work in West Harlem. It was essentially an impulse buy, so they failed to do their homework on the neighborhood - and the neighbors - and soon discovered that they had bought a crack den whose occupants were reluctant to move out. Oh, and it was caving in and structurally unsound.

My neighborhood is small potatoes compared to Judith's, and this excellent book made me feel better in many respects. I loved this book and read it in a single Saturday. It was witty, enthralling, funny and very well-written. I hope she continues to chronicle her transitioning neighborhood.

Dim Expectations?

A coworker recently redid his bathroom. Of all the things they replaced, he said the very best investment was a dimmer switch for the lights.

I had never really thought about it, but I can see the value. My bathroom has a Hollywood Barbie strip of lights which could probably land a plane. They're far too bright early in the morning and late at night. I keep a small nightlight plugged in to ease the transition in the morning.

A previous owner must have had the same thought. When I first looked at the house, there was a very odd dimmer switch in the bathroom. At some point between the inspection and move-in, it stopped working, so I replaced it with a standard switch.

I'm tucking this away for when the bathroom project becomes reality.

My Nose is Cold

I'm sitting on my couch by the oldest window. My nose is cold. So are my toes. There's quite a breeze.

I can't wait to get rid of this window.

However, the question is, how much insulation should I do for the windows that will be replaced in 6-8 weeks? I'll definitely put in the storm windows. They're already lined up in the garage, ready to go the next time I'm home during daylight hours (Saturday).

But should I bother with the shrink wrap for the five windows in question?

Given how cold my nose is -and it's a relatively balmy 38 degrees compared to a month from now, with a brisk wind - I think it's worth the $15 and the time.

We have river!

I noticed last night that the trees across the street have lost enough of their leaves to afford us the river view I love. Sure, all year you can see the gap in the trees where you know the river is. But from now until April or May, we can actually see the water itself, flowing southwards.

It's especially neat when it freezes over solid. When it's really cold, steam rises, making night and early morning extra ethereal.

I shall try to get pictures this year, but the phenomenon is rather fleeting and tough to capture.

In other news, we had our first sticking snow yesterday evening, a whirlwind of flakes that stuck to the grass and rooftops. It was very pretty - but it reaffirms the need to pull out the storm windows, shrink wrap the windows, and batten down the hatches for the rapidly-approaching winter.

Sluggish Posting

I've been very very bad at posting lately, but I have excuses!

First and foremost, it's National Novel Writing Month, that glorious, caffeine-fueled time when, to rail against the increasing darkness, you set out to write 50,000 words towards a novel in just 30 days. I participated - and made the goal - in 2006. Last year, I couldn't get an idea developed well enough to do anything with, but this year, I'm on top of things. I'm about 16,000 words in, so just a hair behind goal (1,667 words a day keeps you on goal, so I should be at about 18,000, but who's counting?

Second, I'm traveling, in London this week for work. I had visions of writing the whole way over, but after about three hours of work-work, I cranked out about 2000 words before I couldn't bear to be hunched over anymore. Last night, when jet lag wouldn't let me fall asleep until 2 AM, I managed about another 800 words.

Hopefully on tomorrow's flight home, I'll be able to tackle at least another 2000 words.

It's all at the expense of posting... but I'll be back to my semi-regular routine in December.

Frustration

When I took my second look at my house – prior to making an offer – I noticed that the extra-large house next door had a large parking area, with space for four cars. Upon further inspection, I noticed a sign designating that parking was for tenants only, and multiple entrances. I thought for a moment that maybe living next to an apartment building – four single bedroom units – may not be ideal, but decided it was fine.

I was wrong.

That apartment building has caused misery and frustration during my time in my home. Since it’s old and in poor repair, the units are cheap – and the landlord hasn’t been very selective among his tenants. About four months after I moved in, it went on the market. I hoped someone would buy it, clean it up, maybe deconvert a couple units. The City of Elgin offers a very generous grant to people willing to buy these old homes that have been carved into apartments and restore them to single family homes. I even mentioned the program to the listing agent, encouraging her to pass along the information to interested parties. (If I read the information correctly, a buyer could get up to $90,000 - $30,000 per unit removed – if they converted the four unit property into a single family home. Heck, if they wanted to make it a duplex, they would still get $60,000.)

No such luck. The new owner continued managing from afar, renting to crack dealers who brought with them a parade of traffic, creepy crackheads and, one summer night, gunshots. One morning I even found a drunk/high/impaired man passed out on my front lawn! In conjunction with a small candy shop across the street, things got very bad for awhile, with large crowds loitering on my block, passing the time as they waited for their customers. I was afraid to walk home late at night, though they did seem like friendly crack dealers, calling hello and commenting on the weather.

Winter came, and things improved. It was far too cold to conduct business outside, and though traffic continued, it was much sparser and quicker.

With the spring, though, the crowd reappeared on the first nice day, as did many of the customers. One of the main dealers spent his time sitting on a milk crate out front, waiting for cars to pull up, then exchanging product for cash. Litter abounded, and one of my neighbors put a trash can in her front yard, hoping to alleviate the problems. Things got worse than the previous summer, with a more serious tone about the sheer volume of the problem. Until one day – my birthday – when I came home to a drug raid in progress. Five people were arrested, and my neighbor’s young son asked innocently why the police were interested in the large bag of flour.

After that, things got better for a couple weeks. But then, one by one, the crowd returned, minus the former tenants. The milk crate throne was restored, and business returned nearly to its previous level. The landlord, anxious to keep his rental income, rented one of the newly vacated apartments to the buddy of the dealer now sitting in jail. And another vacant unit to one of their friends. Despite neighborhood involvement, the landlord of the apartment building and the candy shop decided they preferred rental income to neighborhood quality and safety – an easy decision to make for an absentee landlord.

Fall came, and one of the new tenants next door was arrested for assaulting his pregnant girlfriend, vacating an apartment. A family moved in, with three small children in a one bedroom apartment. The winter again stopped the crowds, though the dealing continued, quietly, from one of the apartments.

The spring thaw brought the most blatantly open dealing I’d seen. I’d be out mowing the lawn on a Sunday morning and would watch three transactions, right in front of me. Helped by easy access to major roads and a hungry customer base, business even picked up, with new, younger faces doing the brunt of the work.

Then it stopped. The candy store closed, and the crowds disappeared into the summer night. It was quiet. Kids started playing in the street, biking and playing soccer until their parents called them in. It became a stereotypical 1950s Midwest suburban block, plus a bit of diversity. We spent more time outside, chatting with our neighbors. One of the kids threw a ball and hit one of our screens, prompting a stern talking-to from his dad in a very Dennis the Menace moment. The other kids chalked hopscotch grids on our sidewalks. We held a barbecue and invited our neighbors and their kids.

Sure, we had minor annoyances. The boyfriend of one of the tenants kept slamming his oversize van into our fence as he tried to park in the tight space, knocking loose several slats and completely destroying two of them. We put our fence plans on hold, hating to invest the time and money. Occasionally, loud, thumping music rattled our windows and the pictures on the wall.

Still, the building next door was crumbling. Built in the 1860s, the foundation was uneven, the paint was peeling, and some gutters had come unhinged. You could see damage on the roof. Apparently the inside wasn’t much better, and neighbors reported major plumbing problems and an unresponsive landlord. They stopped paying rent. He went into foreclosure. One of the tenants began holding moving sales every weekend, sitting on the front lawn selling anything and everything, leaving things that didn’t sell on the curb. Don and I talked about trying to raise the capital – and leverage city grants – to buy it out of foreclosure and rehab it, a difficult proposition given the credit crisis.

Finally, the city came to respond to tenant complaints about a lack of heat and plumbing. And then they condemned the building, slapping red tags on all three entrances. Monday, the sheriff came by and made sure it was vacant. Tuesday, the owner – no longer a landlord – piled everything left on the front lawn. The garbage crew only picked up things in cans, leaving piles of clothes and assorted junk outside. Rain lessened the probability that scavengers would be interested in the ancient TV, coffee table, baby furniture and other detritus of four families’ lives.
Wednesday night, I saw a shadow, peering into the windows next door. By the time I looked again and grabbed the phone to call the police, he was gone. Or maybe it was just my imagination.

That makes three vacant houses on our block. One, gutted by fire, has been mired in insurance investigations and a divorce settlement for nearly two years. Another, a rental home, is between tenants, but at least the owner stops by periodically to trim the grass and collect the political mailers off the front step. I only hope that the one next door is tended to and not allowed to dilapidate further, and that any resolution is quick. I’d rather it be torn down and cleared for a new home – that matches the neighborhood’s character, of course – than sit for years, vacant, potentially drawing the former crackheads. I plan to be vigilant and stay on the city for answers and action.

But it’s just so damn frustrating Every time the neighborhood starts improving – and we’ve come so far – something happens.

Window Shopping

I’ve made my decision for the biggest house project to date: replacement windows. Hooray!

As is my method, I started small. I wanted to replace the living room window – ancient, drafty and in serious need of repair. It’s a relatively narrow window but behind the couch, so the draft impacts my comfort. I spend the majority of my conscious at-home time in that room. Last winter, the glass began separating from the wood frame, so I caulked it back together, but that was only a temporary solution. Even with an ill-fitting storm window, copious caulk and a sheet of air-supposedly air-tight window plastic, there was definitely a breeze.

While I was at it, I decided I might as well replace the wall air conditioning unit with a picture window. The previous owner installed central air, but left the wall unit as a huge, hulking shrine to the 70s. It’s ugly. And in a room with relatively little natural light, it surely doesn’t help. So I’ll replace it with a picture window – it’s too high on the wall to merit an opening window, but the light will be great. (Anyone need a giant wall unit in working order? Let me know!) The squirrels will be sad to lose their perch, though – and the cat will miss hearing them scratch around on the outside of the unit.

I priced out those two windows at Home Depot and Menards and looked closely at the current situation. Then I decided that this is one job worth hiring a professional. Windows need to be done right. You can fudge a bit on a paint job – it’s easy to redo or touchup. Yardwork has a huge margin of error. But windows? Screw those up and you’ll pay in energy loss, discomfort and possibly even security. Plus, the one living room window appears to have some rot around it. I was afraid what it will look like when the old window comes out – and with a hole in the side of the house, you’re under pressure to act quickly – no time for additional research.

So I asked around, did lots of research on R and U values and energy efficiency, types of vinyl, and other insomnia-worthy topics. I spent a fair amount of time at the National Fenestration Rating Council website, research brands and their ratings. And after having several conversations with companies and two in-home estimates, I made my decision. Plus, by ordering now - they’re all custom sizes, of course – they’ll be ready in early January, so I’ll get a winter installation discount! I decided if I was having someone do it, I might as well do more than the two I originally planned. If I was already doing two in the living room, I should probably do the third one – which is a giant 4x6 feet! – between the living room and porch. And while I’m at it, the office windows are pretty decrepit. Since I’m working at home more, that will become a more pressing issue in a few weeks when winter really sets in. The previous two winters, I’ve been able to avoid that room, but not so this winter! So I’m doing all five.

I learned a lot. For example, the living room windows are original, circa 1890, according to both estimators. The original pulleys and weights are still intact – and one estimator told me to ask the installers for them, to ensure they insulate the gap they’ll leave behind. The ones in the office are a bit newer – they guessed 1930s or 40s.

So that’s my window shopping story. Admittedly, it’s not as interesting – or cheap – as window shopping in a mall or Michigan Avenue. But come January, when my living room is much cozier, it will be well worth it.

Botany & Lumber-Jilling

For a yard with no trees, we sure do have a lot of leaves. Every year, the city starts their leaf pickup in early October, when everything is still lush and green and firmly attached. By the third week of October, though, it’s actually raining leaves. I worked at home one brisk day a couple weeks ago and actually got up to look outside at a couple points to see if it had started raining. It sure sounded like rain, but in reality, it was just the sound of thousands of leaves falling – in unison – to the ground.

Our neighbors behind us have the annoying mulberry tree that will drop all its leaves in one fell swoop in the next couple weeks. The neighbors next door have two giant, ancient oaks that drop bushels of big, broad, crunchy leaves, and plenty of acorns Our yard is torn up from the increased squirrel activity, as they frantically try to bury as many acorns before the ground freezes. One brilliant squirrel even buried an acorn in my tomato planter. I’ll bet he goes hungry this winter. Apparently a previous owner paid neighborhood children a quarter per bucket they filled with acorns, then stored the nuts in the garage and parceled them out to the varmints all winter. I’m dealing with generations that may remember that elderly woman – and expect the entitlement to continue. Liberals.

Despite having no trees, we do have one overgrown bush – maybe it’s a mini tree?- that blocks the main living room window. It scrapes up against the house, making pinging noises against the aluminum. A couple times each year, I go out and trim it way back, stopping the scraping and allowing a bit more light through the narrow window. When I first moved in, I thought it may be a lilac, as there were a couple small blooms that have never since reappeared. The leaves on this tree are small and annoying, as the rake doesn’t really pick them up. As long as they don’t get wet, they tend to just blow away and disperse.

I did my fall trimming a couple weeks ago, first taking off everything I could with mere hedge trimmers. Then, for the taller branches, I had to jump up, pull them down and hold in place while cutting. Some of the skinny ones – the newer growth – were easy to snap off, while others required the saw. It was great fun and satisfying to pull down branches bigger than me.

That entire bush/tree will likely come down early next spring, to be replaced with something smaller that doesn’t block the window. I think it’s too late in the season now for a new plant to take root and survive the winter. Of course, I said the same thing at this time last year. Inertia's a bitch to overcome, no?

Weekend project

This weekend, I tore a hole in my porch ceiling to replace a couple broken beadboard planks. After searching for beadboard of the right size and pattern, I finally found some pressboard planks at Home Depot a few weeks back. I had brought the package inside and left it wrapped in plastic to protect it from dust and the cat.

After demolishing the bad planks (which Don did happily with his Cubs hammer and a grin of destruction on his face), I unwrapped the new boards to read the installation instructions - and discovered they're supposed to cure for 72 hours in the "climate of the room" before hanging. I wondered if it really mattered, since the porch isn't really insulated and goes through a variety of temperatures and humidities in a year, but decided to be safe rather than sorry, so now I've got a hole in the ceiling for the next couple days. Next time, I'll read the related information well before I plan to start the project.

Coming home

I've been traveling a lot lately for work, and it's always good to get home. I love flying into O'Hare at night, especially coming from the east coast, since the typical flight path follows the Lake Michigan shoreline. I can pick out the landmarks starting around the Museum of Science and Industry and follow them all the way up to Wrigley Field before we bank towards O'Hare itself.

I always watch for Elgin - you would think with the river and casino it would be easy-ish to spot - but no luck so far. I've got a couple more trips planned for the next month, so I'll keep my eyes peeled.

I've also been heavily window shopping. More details on that soon.

Upcoming Projects

I spent part of Saturday planning out my projects for the next six months, along with budget and a bit of Dad guidance. Here's my tentative plan for the next few months:

1) Fence. Must do this soon, before the ground hardens. I've done quite a bit of research (including the need for a permit!), taken tons of measurements, and am just about ready to go. Except, of course, for a few nagging questions. Like, what do I do with the old fence? And what happens to all the junk my neighbor has propped up against my back fence? Those will be answered soon.

2) Windows. I've been window shopping lately, learning as much as I can about replacement windows. I spent a couple good hours at Home Depot learning from their window expert and have read countless websites. In the interest of time, sanity and proper insulation, I will be hiring a company to do this project - their estimates will determine how many I replace now versus next year. I've got three contractors identified for bids; I hope to have them all out within the next few days.

3) Replace cracked window panes. Related to replacing windows, I've got two cracked panes on my porch. Replacing them will take a bit of research, but I should be able to handle it myself.

4) Finish caulking the porch roof. I started this with half a tube of leftover caulk, so I might as well finish it. A little extra insulation never hurt anyone.

5) Light-a-palooza. I have a couple u-g-l-y light fixtures that continue to annoy me. The next time that Home Depot/Lowe's/Menards has a great lighting sale, I'm going to bite the bullet and replace a couple of the most egregious - like the Hollywood Barbie light bar in the downstairs bathroom and the naked bulb in the stairwell.

6) Dining room floor. My floor has been uneven since I first looked at the house - the joys of 110 years of history - but the dining room has always been the most noticable and disconcerting. My home inspector said it stemmed from a cracked floor joist that must have occured when a previous owner installed ductwork in the basement. The inspector and another contractor concurred that the floor isn't sinking - it's moved as far as it will - but it's always been a bit unsettling. Regardless, I plan on ripping up the otherwise nice hardwood floor and pouring a leveling compound, then laying a new subfloor and some sort of flooring. I may also replace the support beams in the basement to make them all uniform and get rid of the potentially-scary shims.

I thought I was done with tar...

I spent nearly three hours this afternoon sitting on the driveway by the back door, trying to remove the tar that had splattered up onto the new storm door during our paving project. We had realized - too late, obviously - that we should drape a tarp over the door to ensure the splatter didn't mar the pretty new door.

Since then, I've repainted the foundation to cover the splatters along the driveway. We tried a couple different products to remove the tar from the siding and back door, gingerly testing inconspicuous areas. One removed the finish from the aluminum siding entirely, exposing shiny metal!

Today, I finally decided to give it some real elbow grease. I grabbed the one that didn't hurt the siding - a Turtle Wax bug and tar remover - and doused a couple square inches of the bottom of the door, then waited 10 minutes instead of the suggested one. Sponge in hand and fingers crossed, I rubbed until the tar bubbles began to give way. Hooray! It was a slow and tedious process, but I've done all that I believe is possible. A couple places now sport small yellow spots, but the paint will camouflage that. (We were planning to paint as part of the door project - once EVERYTHING was done - but didn't want to just paint over the tar bumps.)

I also discovered late in the game that a toothbrush was much more effective than a sponge, which could have saved some thumb strain. But the effort was well worth it.

Summer

Now that there's a noticeable chill in the air, I finally found the cord that connects my camera to my laptop!


A random lily of sorts, which I never planted. Last summer, a plant sprouted up, but nothing ever bloomed. This August, I had three beautiful blossoms.







The peppermint stick zinnias turned out kind of interesting, though I'm still on the bubble about them. They almost look diseased!






The small front flower bed, overflowing with nasturtiums, which I had never planted until this year. They remind me of water lillies. Supposedly they're quite tasty, though I haven't sampled them. You can also see a couple rogue bachelor's buttons that came back after last year.

Midwestern Luck

I spent part of Saturday with squeegee in hand, pushing basement water into the floor drain. It had been quite awhile since we'd had to do that - sealing the tiny, seemingly insignificant hairline foundation crack appears to have helped. Plus, we haven't had a heavy rain in several weeks.

Friday afternoon on through Sunday, our lovely town got between 8 and 12 inches of rain, depending on which weather report you believe. One broadcaster said that if our deluge had been snow, it could have been up to six feet! That sounds a bit sensationalist, but regardless, we had a ton of rain, and the ground couldn't absorb it as quickly as it was falling. We awoke to standing water in the yard, and dared each other to check out the basement

But you know what? We're pretty lucky. Even though we had a bit of basement flooding to clean up, it was nothing compared to other areas downhill, closer to the river, where people had to evacuate and lost possessions or entire rooms or homes. On the northwest side of Chicago, the Chicago River overflowed its banks, sending entire blocks of people scrambling in boats, like Venice or Amsterdam.

And even worse, this same weekend, thousands of Houston and Galveston residents lost everything. Not just some flecks of floor paint or a couple empty cardboard boxes - these people lost their homes, their things, and their peace of mind.

The coastal areas have hurricanes, which, though with some warning, can be absolutely devastating and annihilate entire cities. California has earthquakes, which come with no warning but accomplish the same end. The Midwest really has no equivalent. Sure, in theory an earthquake could strike - and we've had a couple very minor ones, centered far enough away as to not cause much shaking. Tornadoes hit with very little warning, but their path is relatively limited, capable of flattening small towns, but never on the scale of New Orleans or Galveston. We get snow storms, but they don't typically cause much damage, either, and you can stay home for a day or two while the roads are cleared.

Our cleanup only took ab0ut 20 minutes, plus hanging the rug out to dry once the rain finally stopped and opening the window to air things out. I consider myself pretty lucky to live where I do.

Commuter Shoes Revisited

I was at the suburban job for about two months before returning to my old company downtown in a new role. The experience taught me a lot about what makes a good job and a good company. Meanwhile, I expanded my commuter shoes theory.

My current (new-old) job is at an urban office full of a very diverse workforce who live all over Chicagoland and commute via public transit. At lunch, there are dozens of nearby places - all within walking distance - and the area is very amenable to head-clearing lunchtime strolls.

Other Company was in a suburban office park. There was an attached parking garage, and (nearly?) everyone drives. (One of the IT interns often had a bike helmet on his desk, but that could have been a red herring.) Schaumburg has a seemingly great network of bike routes, but they don't connect with Elgin's nor those of the towns in between, and sometimes end mid-block, answering the question of where the sidewalk ends. My window cube overlooked the forest preserve, and I could watch hawks soaring around, looking for lunch.

However, working at Other Company added a new dynamic to my Commuter Shoes theory. For the uninitiated, my theory of commuter shoes holds that the easier the commute, the more likely you are to wear practical shoes.

When I lived in the city, I took the El to work, which was usually standing room only. Not only were the cars overflowing, but you were pressed up against strangers, and the lightweight cars would sway and jerk violently from side to side, throwing you into your fellow commuters. Yet, despite the difficulty in staying upright and holding your balance (which, with time, became a skill), the majority of the women commuted in impossible shoes - stilettos, tall boots, heels of all flavors, etc. Even in the summer, with a nod to "comfort," you would see a flotilla of flip-flops, which offer no support for walking any real distance. Yet, women who commute via the El likely walk the most and spend the greater part of their commute standing on their feet than those who commute with other modes.

While making the suburbs to city trek, I commute on Metra. I bought my house in part because it was an easy walk to the Metra station, so I knew I wouldn’t need to drive at all. In fact, nearly half of my 7-minute walk was through the Metra parking lot itself. Probably 95% of my fellow Metra commuters drive to the train. In the morning, everyone gets a seat – though in the evenings, as gas prices have risen, it has become more difficult and strategic to guarantee a seat – and then we walk to our downtown offices. In my case, it's about 7 minutes on the Chicago end, too. Even so, despite the much more comfortable, seated commute and the reduced walking, most Metra women wear what I termed “commuter shoes” – comfortable sneakers or, increasingly, the new athleisure shoes to carry them through the commute before changing into “work shoes” at the office. (I periodically purge the accumulated shoe collection from under my desk - at one point this spring, I had eleven pairs lined up.)

In an office where everyone drives to and from work and to and from lunch (as there’s very little in walking distance – and I got crazy looks when I walked the 15 minutes to the nearby strip mall for coffee), many women wear comfortable shoes all day. Many never have to step foot outside at all during their commute, yet Nikes seem to be the footwear of choice.

While at Other Company, I usually wore my work shoes (sandals with heels) to and from work. I did discover one important caveat – the grocery stop. Where I don't pass anything on my Metra commute, while working in the suburban office park, I passed nine, count ‘em, nine grocery stores on my normal route home – more if I deviated from the path. It was great to run in and grab a couple things or heck, even do my full shopping trip for the week – the stores are much less crowded on a Tuesday evening than on a Saturday afternoon. But high heels are not designed for grocery store power-shopping and can be dangerous in the slippery produce aisles. So I threw a pair of old flip-flops in the car to slip on when I need to snag strawberries.

When I made the decision to return to the city - albeit with more opportunities to work at home, or WAH - I happily dusted off my commuter shoes. It's great to be back, though I'm not looking foward to the icy days ahead.

Odes to Commuter Shoes

Bad job close to home
Better job, commuter shoes
I'm back on Metra

****

Suburbs nice to live
City better for working
Back to commuting

****

Morning drive to work
Quick, easy come, easy go
Job sucked - had to leave

Painting

It's been a busy few weeks!

I've been painting a ton. It started with the paint around the back door. But then, since I had the brushes, tarp and other fun tools out, I took on other painting projects.

Then, flipping through the pile of paint cans in the garage I tackled other projects. I also discovered that freeze/thaw cycles are not kind to paint. The previous owner had left a dozen or so paint cans in the garage, all labeled with the room they coated. Great, I thought when I found then can labeled, "Back hall." By its weight, it felt about a quarter full - more than enough to touch up around the new back door where we had removed the trim. I patched everything, sanded it down, changed into painting clothes, set up my tarp and ladder, pried off the lid - and discovered jell-o. The paint had congealed into a layer of gelatinous goo, topped by clear liquid. Interesting stuff.

Luckily, since the Ace Hardware label was still intact with the color name and pigment ratios, I took the can over to my local store. First, I asked them if they could shake it up and see if it was salvageable. It wasn't. Next, I asked for a quart, assuming I have enough unused paint hanging around the house, and wondering how many of the other cans were worthless. However, in the five years since the paint had been originally mixed, they had discontinued selling the base in quart-sized containers, so I was stuck with a gallon if I wanted the color. That was fine until I discovered that my gallon of premium paint was a whopping $43! Eegads! I've never paid more than $22 or $23 for a gallon of paint, and often buy it when it's on sale. The cashier saw the look of shock on my face and threw in a couple extra stir sticks, but sheesh. Had I know, I would have found a "close enough" color or just resolved to repaint the entire back hallway, complete with 16 foot ceilings where the basement opens up to the rest of the house. Instead, since it's a nice neutral color, I'll be repainting some other room - maybe the dining room or office? Either way, since I had plenty, I ended up painting two nice coats around the door and also freshening a lot of the space.

Moving along, I finally (after two years!) painted the second coat in the downstairs bathroom, bringing out the true color I had imagined - a subtle lilac that contrasts nicely against bright white trim and the light green kitchen. I also applied a second coat to the trim and touched up a couple places that had chipped on the kitchen trim.

Next, I did a bit of concrete patching on the front steps before applying a fresh coat of paint. The front steps were tough only because of our continuing brown bug problem. After washing off all the bug carcasses before I started, they kept landing in the wet paint! I kept having to retouch the slightly tacky paint, trying to remove the bodies before they dried, like mosquitoes in amber. There are a couple that I didn't manage to extract, but they'll remain entombed as a memorial to their brothers - I've killed hundreds this summer.

Meanwhile, our driveway project taught us some valuable lessons - namely, that asphalt is nasty stuff that does NOT come off of concrete or aluminum side. We had been careful applying it, but some had inevitably splattered in the process. So I repainted the foundation facing the driveway (and think I'll do the rest of the house soon, just to keep it even). However, despite trying two different products suggested by the Home Depot and Ace experts, we cannot figure out how to get the splatters of (black) tar off the (white) aluminum siding without also removing the coating (is it paint?). Especially since I redid the foundation, it looks especially bad. One product yellowed the siding, the other removed the paint-like coating, exposing bare metal. I think for now, our best bet is going to be touching up with white metal paint?

In the midst of asphalt cleanup, I also decided it was high time to repaint our white gate that closes across the driveway. It had a rough winter and a couple bare patches. Luckily, there was another paint can in the garage labeled "gate." I opened it up and discovered more goo! Sigh. Then I opened an indoor/outdoor paint in another shade of white and discovered pure jelly. My last option - without buying more paint - was to use the same white paint I've used for the bathroom and kitchen trim. It's labeled for interior, so I only did half the gate for now. I'll let it get through a couple rain storms (it's rained all day) to see how it holds up before doing the other half. Fence painting sucks - the slats take forever to coat evenly.

I think that's all the painting for now. I rather enjoy it for the first couple hours, but it gets tedious - and leaves me with a clawed right hand for a day or so afterwards. But it's one of the easiest and most cost-effective improvements - and you see the results right away.

RIP, Gus

Saturday afternoon, I was out in the front yard weeding the flowerbeds, and I saw all the neighborhood kids congregating across the street, in the vacant lot where the hill drops down. "It's a beaver! A beaver!" they kept shouting excitedly. I knew it had to be my old quasi-nemisis, Gus the Groundhog.

I first met Gus shortly after I moved in. This big, furry brown thing was hanging out in the side yard, attracting Collette's glare. Since then, I've seen him several times, always puttering around. I've almost hit him a few times at night, turning into the dark driveway.

I never had any real reason to dislike Gus, but I worried about him digging into the garage. My neighbor said the groundhogs must have a den in the side of the hill.

But Saturday, Gus met his fate on the side of the road. Don shooed away the kids and shoveled the roadkill into the woods.

Or maybe it wasn't Gus. We'll never know.

Driveway Lessons

Tuesday morning, common sense prevailed and I went out and bought more crack filler to do the job right. I could definitely see the difference between the cracks I filled properly and the ones that only got the liquid/spoiled sealant treatment. My dad's voice echoed in my head: "If it's worth doing, it's worth doing it right." Or, the adult version that he starting preaching when I hit college: "Don't do a half-assed job."

So I sealed the remaining cracks thoroughly and made sure that everything was nice and solid before leaving it to set overnight. (And then we took a road trip to Aurora for dessert at the new Sonic - and discovered a TWO HOUR WAIT that filled several nearby parking lots. It's fast food, people! Needless to say, we didn't wait.)

Originally, I had naively planned to do the whole driveway process myself, including the sealcoating. After all, my dad has always done the family driveway by himself, and it's twice as big as mine. But since Don had Wednesday off, we decided to knock it out together and (theoretically) get done twice as quickly.

Ha! Needless to say, it took much longer than we anticipated, and it took awhile to really understand the tips Dad had given us. For example, he recommended misting the section of driveway first to make it easier to spread the goop. However, working mid-day on a hot, sunny day, we were breaking off bigger sections than we could handle, and the sun was evaporating our thin coating of water before we finished the area.

Other lessons we learned:

1) Sweeping is really really important. In the future, we'll do a heavy-duty driveway cleaning the day before rather than the sweep-as-we-go the day of. We did a pretty good job scooping up all the stray leaves and twigs, but I didn't realize just how much dust and general dirt had gathered along the edges. Heck, powerwashing may be in order.

2) Edging with an old paintbrush was pretty effective and important, especially up along the house. I discovered that previous owners hadn't edged all the way up to the grass line in the yard.

3) After struggling all morning with the crappy old broom we had designated for the assignment, I discovered an older, crappier broom in the closet and brought it out to help after I finished sweeping and edging. This "midget broom" (so dubbed since half the handle was missing, hence its banishment) had much softer bristles and proved infinitely easier to work with and spread evenly. The softer bristles didn't hold the sealant as well, so they were more effective for spreading. The sealant really stuck to the coarser bristles, making it tough to spread.

4) The squeegee was useless. My dad had recommended a broom, and the pail said either a broom or a squeegee would do the trick. We figured we could reuse the squeegee for any future basement-water issues, but it really didn't do much for the driveway.

5) Rather than hoisting (and pouring from) the big 5-gallon pail, we used an old cool-whip container to scoop out a smaller, more manageable amount.

6) The water helped greatly, once we figured out to work with sections about 8 ft by 8 ft at a time (using the fenceposts as a guide). But we had to be careful not to overwater, especially in some of the lower areas of the driveway prone to standing water - actually, this was the one area we found the squeegee useful!

7) Make sure you leave an open entry path back to the house. Fortunately, as we were closing in on the back door, we realized this could be an issue, so we unlocked the front door.

8) Barricading the end of the driveway is not enough, at least on our block! Not ten minutes after "finishing" for the day and roping off the end of the driveway with garbage cans, the kids next door came tearing across the driveway at top speed. (They live on one side; their grandparents live on the other side of us. Both parents and grandparents constantly admonish them to use the sidewalk rather than our yard, but kids will be kids. Ack, the inner curmudgeon awakens!)

The end of the driveway looks better than the first sections we did, as we figured out the better way to do things. We may go back and touch up some of those areas since we still have some sealant. Either way, it looks infinitely better and about 8 shades blacker than before.

Now I just need to touch up the foundation where I splattered a bit... luckily, since the fence project is looming, I can ignore the flecks there!

Did you know...

...that spackle molds?

I sure didn't, until I opened up a half-empty tub of spackle to do a tiny bit of patchwork and discovered three different types of mold! I had an assortment of gray fuzz, orange splotches and black dots. I suppose since there's some water in spackle, and it's been humid, the little plastic tub provided the perfect breeding grounds for mold.

Fortunately, I had some wood putty (without fungus!) handy that did the trick, and the trimwork around the new back door is one step closer to completion.

Project week!

I'm taking a week off before I pull my commuter shoes back out of the closet (long story to be detailed soon). Taking advantage of the time off in the waning days of summer, I developed quite a list of projects I want to tackle. Some of them are ambitious - like sealing the driveway and "figuring out" (and hopefully ordering) my new fence and a pair of living room windows. I've also got some softballs padding the list to fuel a sense of accomplishment, like getting my oil changed and updating my IPASS account information.

This morning, I set off on my first big task: filling the driveway cracks so I can seal it tomorrow. Luckily, this week is blessed by good weather, so I can knock this one out early. But first, I realized I needed to do something about the pretty, wild grasses (read: weeds) along the edge of the driveway where it meets the fence. While I try to quash the dandelions as they rear their ugly heads, I've been more lax about the grasses, as they actually don't look bad and add a bit of color. However, they do some damage to the driveway edge, where their roots try to break through the surface, so they had to go so I could seal the cracks. In the blazing sunshine (pretty! I thought as I headed outside), I donned my gardening gloves, grabbed a yardwaste bag, and set to it.

Ninety minutes later, sweaty, itchy and covered by burrs, I had to call it quits for awhile to run some errands and escape the growing heat. I discovered that the nice, tranquil grasses were actually topped by prickly burrs that clung to my gloves, clothes and hair. And apparently I was allergic to one of the plants, as red and pink bumps erupted along my arms, though cold water stopped the itching and calmed the bumps.

A couple hours later - when the sun had dipped behind the house - I returned and dug out a couple remaining dandelion roots and swept out the cracks due to be filled. I had bought a jug of crack filler last summer but never actually got around to using it (witness the frost heave). LESSON LEARNED: crack filler does not keep through numerous Chicago freeze-thaw cycles. I shook the jug for several minutes (great workout!), it was still completely separated into liquid and solid. I tried pouring it into the cracks, but only the liquid actually left the jug, but I figured it was better than nothing, so I kept pouring as much as I could. Eventually, however, I realized it wasn't worth doing a half-assed job, so I went back in the house and pulled out some nasty asphalt-in-a-tube I had leftover from the door project. It definitely did the goopy, stinky trick.

LESSON LEARNED: on a driveway that slopes (hey, that's mine!), there are more cracks at the bottom of the slope. Start there when filling cracks to ensure you don't run out of goop on the big, long, deep cracks. The smaller hairline cracks should be fine with the liquid leftovers.

I also discovered that even though I missed my bike ride today, weeding and driveway work are quite effective workouts.

Tomorrow, to seal! And replace the broken beadboard in the porch. And, and, and...

Invasions

We've got swarms of some strange, tan flying bug hanging out by the front door. They're clearly drawn by the (timer-fueled) porchlights, but they've multiplied exponentially and are now a verifiable swarm. Every night they appear in droves so thick that the door and the windows on either side look like something out of a movie. Collette is enthralled, watching them flit around silently, trying to avoid the spiderwebs. She has caught and eaten several - I suppose the extra protein won't hurt her.

We sprayed the front door area with bug spray (of the general "flying bug" variety), leaving piles of tiny bodies on the front steps. The next night, though, the horde returned, barely fazed. For the most part, they stay outside, but occasionally they seem to slip in, and there's a cobweb between the front door and its storm door that I clear out every morning.

Meanwhile, the wasp infestation continues. After knocking down three or four small nests, we kept noticing wasps buzzing around the driveway and yard, so we knew there had to be another nest somewhere. Indeed, I stumbled across a giant one on Sunday while washing windows. I got to the outside of the office window - the one that lacks a screen and hence hasn't been open this year - and was about to spray with the Windex when I stopped dead in my tracks. There was a huge, baseball-sized nest, teeming with white eggs ready to hatch and swarming with at least a dozen wasps. I quickly decided to wait until dusk and spray with wasp killer rather than Windex. Monday, there were several wasp corpses on the window sill but some were still buzzing around, and Don watched (from inside) larva crawling from one of the egg pods. I sprayed again Monday evening, and may do so again Tuesday before knocking it down with a broom and running like hell.

Ah, the joys of critters who can hurt you!

The Sistine Porch

I had about two thirds of a tube of caulk left after I finished the last of the door sealing yesterday. It was the first time I had used this particular brand, which meant that after I snipped the top and loaded it into the gun, I struggled and tried to get the goop flowing, to no avail. Instead, I ended up rupturing the bottom of it, not realizing that this brand also has an internal foil seal to break. Oops. Regardless, the result was that I couldn't just plug the top and save the rest for a rainy day. Rather, I had to use it or lose it.

Since I've had a couple minor (and one major) leaks in the porch ceiling this summer, I've been meaning to replace a couple rotten boards and seal the gaps in the whole ceiling. I took the leftover caulk as the perfect opportunity to start sealing some of the gaps between the beadboard. Up on my ladder, I could reach things just fine, but I found myself realizing that Michelangelo was on to something when he lay on his back to paint the Sistine Chapel. In the hour or so that I was working, I did maybe a fifth of the porch ceiling, since I had to keep moving the ladder. At moments I would reach too far directly behind my head and momentarily feel a bit dizzy. Eek.

But I didn't realize the true extent of my work until this morning, when I woke up with aching triceps. Who knew that caulking the ceiling would be such a great workout? I've got least four or five more workouts ahead of me before winter sets in.

More fun than a frost heave

I had a frost heave appear on/in/under my driveway last March. It mostly settled itself - the driveway shrunk back down nearly to its normal height once spring settled in. And I swear I'll actually seal the crack(s) once and for all during the upcoming (now weather-pending) Crack Weekend.

One of my favorite bloggers, National Review's John Derbyshire, apparently has a similar problem, though the timing suggests something other than a frost heave. His inquiry for ideas lead to a bevy of possibilities, including subterranean mushrooms, an old well, dandelions (a problem I've had - they do push through asphalt!), a volcano, a baby driveway (i.e., sidewalk) and more. Possible solutions range from fungicide to shotguns. All of which are far more interesting than my problem and (lack of) solution.

They're Ba-ack!

Perhaps they were never really gone. After a couple months of relative quiet, the crack dealers across the street have returned. During the half hour it took me to mow my front lawn Sunday afternoon, I witnessed four drug deals. As is often the case, within about 2 minutes of calling the police, the dealers cut and run, scattering like cockroaches.

In honor of their return, I am declaring next weekend "Crack Weekend." I will fill in all the cracks in the driveway, sidewalk and the foundation. Maybe I'll even paint the front steps while I'm at it - and wave at the crack dealers across the way. Weather permitting, of course.

Meanwhile, the local smoke shop - really, more paraphernalia than tobacco - has acquiesced in their fight against our neighborhood association and is leaving town. The shop was just around the corner and lacked parking, so I often had patrons parking in front of my house. Good riddance!

Sweden?!? Really?

Before sanding and staining the pine I bought for the new trim around the door, I peeled of the barcode stickers. I noticed something interesting. The pine was all imported from Sweden. Really? With the cost of energy, how much of the (relatively low) cost of the wood is absorbed by the cost of transporting the lumber across 4000+ miles of ocean and land?

Just asking.

Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda

Common sense would have dictated that I mow the lawn tonight. I've got more clovers than a Lucky Charms box and the edges are looking pretty shaggy. It didn't quite need to be mowed over the beautiful, perfect weekend, and besides, it was busy. By this morning, though, I knew my days were numbered before Code Enforcement comes a-knocking.

But did I get home, change into my grubby yard clothes and mow the lawn in the 75 degree sunshine? No... instead, I whined about my super-sore legs (who knew staining and gardening could be such a lethal combination?) and lounged in the backyard with a book. And now I learn that the rest of the week will be hot and humid. Serves me right, I suppose.

Foiled by Gravity

I had a very productive weekend! I spent yesterday doing all kinds of door-related work. I applied the first coat of stain to the trim, finished caulking all the way around the outside and inside of the door, and played with the nastiest stuff I've ever worked with - asphalt/tar caulk, filling the gap between the driveway and the doorframe. (The driveway is, of course, unlevel.)

I did all this while eying the clouds as they built and waned. I did all my staining out in the driveway - avoiding the fumes that would build in the basement and the darkness of the garage -
but had everything on a sheet, ready to drag into the garage at the first raindrops. I got lucky, and the sun even came out.

Then I came inside and set off to fill the big, hollow void that I discovered last week. On Dad's advice, I had bought some Great Stuff, and had happily picked the "Big Gap" variety. I donned my goggles and my one remaining rubber glove (the other having fallen victim to the gross tar gunk), climbed my step stool, and poised to start at the top and work my way down. I quickly realized that gravity had other ideas, as everything I filled plopped its way down the shaft to the bottom. Working quickly, I climbed down and started working from the bottom up, purposely only filling about half the gap, per the instructions.

My big can of Big Gap Great Stuff only filled about half the void, so resigned, I pushed the stuff into place and packed up for the afternoon.

Two hours later, I passed through the back hallway and stopped cold. The Great Stuff had settled down from where I had originally put it. Gravity had intervened, pulling the whole mass downwards into a big blob. I tried to push it back up, but it was still sticky and malleable and I was afraid of making it worse, so I left it to solidify, hoping I could carve it up and reuse the misplaced foam. (I had used Great Stuff before to fill in some (horizontal) gaps in the basement and found it easy to work with - and once it hardens, easy to carve off the excess with a knife. Gravity hadn't been a factor when working horizontally.)

By morning, an entire digestive system of foam adorned my wall. After a busy day (laundry, weeding, more staining, and Elgin's Greekfest), I decided to tackle the stomach-shaped mass. I set off with a razor blade, but found a screwdriver more useful. I hacked into the stomach, chiseling off small chunks - like packing peanuts, but without the candy colors. In a way, they worked out better than the original foam, since I could easily stuff them back around in the corners of the void, whereas working with aerosol, you just point and hope. I filled a pretty good portion of the hole with the leftovers, taking off a couple chunks of paint in the process. (Fortunately, in my garage diggings yesterday, I found a third of a gallon of paint labeled "Back Entry." It perfectly matches the paint already on the walls, which we feared we would have to repaint entirely to compensate for the slightly-smaller trim and a bit of damage (i.e. the hole we made while prying off the old trim).

One small can of Great Stuff should fill the rest of the void - and no, I won't be getting the "Big Gap" variety again! Plus, I've learned that when working in vertical spaces, it may help to prop up the fresh foam while it solidifies - I'm thinking a piece of cardboard may do the trick.

Regardless, I'm closer to finishing the door project once and for all! Then I move onto the fence...

My house is hollow!

Don and I made a trip to pick up all the remaining pieces for the door: more caulk, more asphalt/tar/goop for the seal between the door and the driveway, lumber to rebuild the trim, paint for the door and other miscellaneous stuff.

The old trim was in really bad shape. Bits of it had obviously been replaced over time, leading to an inconsistent and ugly mismash of wood types and stain shades. We measured the pieces we would need, then started to rip out the old stuff. The first bit came off easily - after we got through the four nails at the top, the rest was glued to the wall with liquid nails. Lazy. Then, strangely, we discovered two inches between the end of the drywall and the new door frame that had been filled in with wood. Apparently, the original door had been the standard 32" width, and some previous owner had built up the frame to suit a 30" door. It makes no sense whatsoever - why replace a standard door with an extra narrow one? Maybe he had an old 30" one lying around? Regardless, even if I had known about the gap before ordering the door, I would have strongly hesitated going with a 32" door, since it would have entailed cutting into the aluminum siding on the other side.

Dimensions and list in hand, we asked for help in the lumber aisle at Home Depot. While Don picked through the 2x4s to find the straightest ones possible, the HD guy and I sought a sufficiently wide - and sturdy - piece to level out the new threshold with the existing cement steps. I said I was looking for a nice, thick piece of pressure-treated wood, but the HD guy kept trying to sell me some fancy, decorative piece. Finally, we found the millwork "expert" who suggested - what else - a thick piece of pressure-treated wood. They didn't stock the width I needed, but they did have some a half inch wider. Sold. The HD guy proceeded to explain to me how I should measure the piece to the right width and - using a straight edge, dontcha know - mark the width, then sand it down. I agree that sanding is the way to go, and thanked him for his help. Then, upon returning to Don's pile of 2x4s, the HD guy proceeded to repeat the recommendations for measuring, marking and sanding. Nevermind that he had just explained the exact same thing, 10 feet down the aisle, to me. Don was astounded by the guy's demeanor - as if I was just the clueless helper on the project, and not the instigator! I told him that this happens ALL THE TIME with HD and Lowes associates. But alas.

This afternoon, Don beat me home and started ripping out the rest of the trim. He made an interesting discovery - in the small, narrow space between the door frame and the corner of the house, the house is HOLLOW. No drywall, no insulation, nada. Just empty space, the framing of the house and a whole bunch of ants. So now we need to figure out what to do there. Is it worth drywalling a space that's only 2" wide? Either way, we're going to seal the heck out of it and insulate it in some way, shape or form. Upon closer inspection, we discovered a small gap between the foundation and the siding - that's gotta be the entry point for the ants.

Much more to do, but progress is being made. And already, I feel so much more secure with a door that closes and locks firmly.

Door day!

At last, the doors went in yesterday. Dad and Mom showed up bright and early (too early for my Friday-national holiday taste, but I understood their rationale for a 9 AM arrival), bearing tools and birthday cake. After we had our breakfast cake, we settled into work.

Demolition went pretty quickly. The old door popped out easily, though we discovered that much of the jamb was held in place with approximately 27 coast of paint. Dad commented how heavy the old wood door, especially compared to its steel replacement. We also discovered quite the nest of ants, burrowed into the door frame, so we sprayed heavily. We parked the old doors in the garage, since my sister may want to repurpose them for a house she's fixing up. As she said, an old crappy door is better than no door at all. And the price is right.

Then the fun began. Dad and Don kept setting the new door into place to see where it fit and where it was too tight. After lots of back and forth (literally), we were close, but it still wasn't fitting quite level. So Mom, Dad and I took off for Home Depot while Don stayed behind to guard the house (since there was a gaping hole in the side of it) and sand through the 27 layers of paint that were impeding the fit process.

While we were at the Depot, Don called with a realization - the door wasn't fitting because the hinge screws in the pre-hung door weren't screwed down. Since they were protruding, of course the door wasn't fitting quite right. We got the rest of the supplies we needed - caulk, screws, tar paper, and other stuff - and headed home.

The rest of the installation was slow and steady, but other than a quick trip to Ace to pick up a hacksaw (new tool acquired! Who knew that storm doors are sold with stock size bars that have to be cut to fit the opening?), we made good progress. Late in the process, we were all tired and hungry and hot in the sun, so we pulled out the patio chairs, but the end result is divine.

We ran out of caulk - the gaps between the house and the door frame are pretty significant - and the trim still has to be ripped out and replaced, but the door opens perfectly level, closes firmly but easily and the storm door actually fits the gap. Perfection. With just a bit more work , I'll have a door that will last for years - and hopefully prove much more energy efficient than the old one.

Busy, and Thwarted by the Weather

Since starting the new job, I've been a tad busy learning everything I can about the new industry and adjusting to the new lifestyle. Plus, since I'm getting home earlier, I've been going on as many evening bike rides as possible. (The bike path itself has been fascinating with the ongoing heavy rains - there are places the path is closed entirely due to flooding, and many others where the river water laps up along the edges.)

My fancy new back doors came in a few weeks ago, and after frantic scheduling, my sister came down with her truck and helped me bring them to the house. (It's cheaper to bribe her with lunch than pay the Depot $59 for delivery!) The doors have been parked in the garage ever since, forcing a very cautious maneuver every time I pull the car in - which is daily now. Every time my dad and I have aligned schedules (thrice, so far), it has rained on our parade. And not gentle-we-can-work-in-this rain. No, we're talking monsoons. The kind that you can't even consider working outside in, especially since there will be a gaping hole in the house for a couple (few?) hours. But cross your fingers for Friday...

Meanwhile, all the rain has been great for the living things in my yard! My tomato plant boasts the first few green tomatoes beginning to ripen, and some of the herbs are doing well. In the front flower beds, I did indeed wait too long to plant the zinnia bounty, but they're starting to grow. Note to self: start them much, much earlier next year - like early May, or even inside in April. The nasturtiums are growing, but no blooms yet.

And in the back yard, the mulberries have taken over. Everything is purple and goopy and gross, and there's a nice, rancid odor of ranting berries. The poor garage roof is purple, and the squirrels and birds are in heaven. We cut that tree back so far last fall, but it grows like a weed!

The rain has also once again meant a bit of very minor flooding in the basement, reminding me of the urgency of fixing it once and for all. Perhaps that's a good rainy day project.

Onwards and upwards. Plenty more to do.

Commuter Shoes: The End of an Era

Friday was my last day as a Metra commuter. When I bought my house, I drew a one mile radius from the three Elgin train stations. My goal was to live within a mile - easy walking distance - of a train to ease my commute downtown as much as possible.

After living in Chicago for seven years, moving to the farthest reach of the suburbs was a shock to the system. My commute grew to an average of about 80 minutes - ten minute walk from the house to the train, 60 minutes on the express train, and about a ten minute walk to the office downtown. Another 25 minutes could easily be tacked on if I deigned to work late or go out after work, stranding me on a non-express train, watching the freight trains breeze past.

I learned a lot from my train commuter days, though. The train becomes almost like family, in a way, with the same characters sitting in the same seats five days a week. You learn the rhythms of the train, the cadence of the conductors and what it means when you slow down through Franklin Park. In November, you pass the Ringling Brothers' circus train, nearly a mile long, parked just west of the city. In the dead of dark winter evenings, the strategically set fires light the night like fireworks, keeping the switches from freezing. Passing just south of O'Hare, there's a steady stream of planes landing and taking off - you can see them queued up for miles off toward the horizon.

You learn that if you typically finish the main news section of the Chicago Tribune around Itasca, though on Mondays and Tuesday, it may be as soon as Schaumburg. By Friday, when the paper is larger, the Elgin Courier may not get read until the train ride home. Occasionally there would be entire weeks where nothing sounded appealing, so I'd do the crossword puzzle and Sudoku from the morning papers. If I had work to do - especially editing - I'd tackle it on the way home, since working on an express train was preferable to staying late at the office and then taking a slower milk train home.

At first, entertaining yourself for the commute is almost fun. Finally, a chance to read, uninterrupted, every single weekday! I got into the very comfortable routine of bringing coffee and reading both newspapers in the morning. In the evenings, I would usually read for pleasure, either a novel or magazine (National Review or Verbatim). Over time, though, I would grow antsy with the sheer length of the commute, especially when nice weather beckoned. In winter, it didn't seem to bother me as much, since regardless of when I got home, it was cold, dark and miserable. In summer, though, with beautiful sunshine rapidly diminishing, I couldn't wait to get home, and the train would seem to creep through suburb after suburb.

Overall, I like Metra. It's clean, safe, relatively quiet and usually on time. Since I live out in the boondocks, I always got a seat in the morning, often on the upper deck where I could sit in a single seat and spread out with my newspapers. Coming home, especially lately since gas prices have been rocketing up, it's been increasingly difficult to get a seat, but leaving work five minutes earlier helped.

Plus, my years commuting fueled my first (and thus far only) novel, Commuter Shoes. It was written for National Novel Writing Month in 2006 and comprises a series of vignettes about fictionalized characters I saw on my daily commute. The title comes from my observation that suburban women who commute to the city often have a pair or two of commuter shoes that they reserve for the trip, carrying dress shoes with them or having a stockpile at the office to change into. Commuter shoes are often tennis shoes or the newish athliesure shoes, allowing comfortable walking and the occasional sprint to the train. I recently had a whopping eleven pairs of shoes under my desk at work.

But over time, I was nagged by a voice in my head, whining, "Are we there yet?" I never really slept on the train, always afraid I'd sleep past my stop. But I'd stare out the window in bored exhaustion from my day, anxious to just be home.

As I hunted for a new job, I pondered whether I wanted to stay downtown and remain a Metra girl, or if I wanted to be driving distance. I ended up finding one in Schaumburg, about a 35 minute drive from home. I accepted the offer, hoping that the drive wouldn't hurt. There appear to be a different possibilities for routing myself that I'll have to explore and time. Even though it will likely be relatively heavy traffic - as it was the morning I interviewed and clocked the drive at 35 minutes - I'll still be home sooner in the evening and leave later in the morning. And that's appealing to me. I envision going to more City Council meetings, finally joining the book club at the library I've eyed for the last year and doing more with my evenings without having to dash out of work early or plan ahead and work from home.

I would commute on Metra again, but maybe not from the far reaches of a line. If I could afford to live closer to Chicago and could buy a place near one of the closer stations - say no farther than zone D (vs H, as Elgin is), that might be okay. But for now, I hope I've made the right choice.

We shall see. The driving era begins Monday.

Mower Wars: The Finale

After months and months of frustration with my reel mower, I finally caved and bought a real mower. Mind you, I didn't go the full-fledged gas guzzling route. Rather, I went with my alterna-yuppie tendencies and bought an electric mower. My yard is small enough that even the far edges are reachable with a 100 foot extension cord. Plus, an electric engine is far more environmentally friendly and doesn't entail the sparkplugs, flooding threat and other hassles of a more traditional gas mower.

I started my research a couple weeks ago with a stop at Lowes. I had nearly made up my mind that I wanted to go the electric route, but I wanted to actually see an example. While there, I snagged a brochure, jotted my notes and weighed the relative merits of each. The kindly Lowes employee - an older gentleman - came by to offer his sage advice: "Women usually prefer the self-propelled. They're less work." Now, there would have been plenty of other ways to suggest that upsell without inserting the gender aspect. He could have mentioned a number of features that may merit the higher cost. Instead, when I explained that I was interested in an electric and asked for the difference between the two models on display, he tried again: "You know, electric means you have to mess with a cord. You should really consider a self-propelled." I smiled, thanked him and walked out.

Later that week, I again mowed with my reel mower. Even after cross-cutting the lawn, it was still uneven and looked ragged. Over the next ten days, it grew and grew and grew as unrelenting rain prevented me from cutting. So Saturday morning, I set off to (a different) Lowes and its neighboring Home Depot, notepad in hand, and compared the scarce few models available at each. I came home and discovered that my leading front runner was $30 cheaper on Amazon, with no sales tax and free shipping! Nearly ready to Add to Cart, I stopped by Menards while I was out running other errands. Success! They had a very comparable model on sale for even less money. I snagged it and brought it home.

Sunday morning, I donned my grubby yard clothes, did the small amount of necessary assembly and sat down to unravel the extension cord. With it sufficiently untangled, I ran into the screened porch to plug it in. Suddenly, for the eleventh day in a row, the skies opened. Within the next two minutes, as I frantically pulled everything back to the garage, thunder rumbled and lightning brought torrents of hail. I sighed and went about my day. By the time I got home from a Cougars game, the sun had been out long enough to make things nice and steamy, while drying out the lawn. I mowed my lawn with the words of reviewers in my head. It did look like I was vacuuming my lawn! But in a relatively quick span, the lawn was nice and even and looked better than it has since I've lived in this house.

I'm sad to give up my defiant reel mower. But the resulting lush suburban grass makes it worth it.

And besides, I can keep using the reel mower on the slower-growing, shaded backyard - just to keep it real.

Easy Electric

I bought my timer switch last weekend, read the directions, and realized that it may be a better daylight project since it entailed cutting power to the circuit with the hall light.

Finally, I got around to it today. I cut power - thanks to some previous owners for meticulously labeling the breaker box with "Living room - South Wall" type detail - and tested my switch to make sure it was good and dead.

I pulled off the faceplate - there are three switches right there - and evaluated the situation. The switch had obviously been there since the Carter administration (at least), as it took some prying to expose the poof balls of black schmutz and insulation. The switch wasn't grounded at all. After a minute of gentle tugging, I realized wire snips were the easiest way to cut the old wire from the switch - after I triple-checked that the power was indeed off.

One of the joys of an old house is the old wiring. While the breaker box has been updated, some of the internal wiring is, well, old (and I have some old, retired outlets to prove it!). The wires in the wall are wrapped in black cloth. I used my wire snips again to gently peel back about half an inch of insulation so I could fit the wire into the caps with the new switch wires. I lined up the wires, made my connections, grounded the thing (an improvement already!) and then struggled to get all the new wires back into the hole. I kept at it until the (much whiter) new timer switch was nearly flush with its old, almond neighbors. Then it dawned on me that before I finished the arduous tightening, I should probably turn the power on and make sure that everything was connected right. Success!

In many ways, the hardest part of the whole project was getting the faceplate back in place and lined up. It's still not quite perfectly flush, since the new switch is a tad larger than the old ones, but it gets the job done. I set the program - lights on at sunset, off at 2 AM - and we're good to go.

It was my very first solo electric project - hooray!

More windows

One week into summer (going by the Memorial Day standard), I've got nearly all of my windows at least quasi-operational. Yesterday, Don helped me with the living room window which, while pretty (its wood is stained to exactly match the rest of the living room), is a trainwreck as far as operation is concerned. The sashes are so old that it doesn't reliably stay up without the aid of a stick - a concern due to the cat.* This is also one of the worst as far as wind and cold leakage, compounded by its location directly behind the couch. Opening it in the summer requires a delicate ballet of sliding the storm window up to balance on top of the new screen - all while holding the window itself up so it doesn't come crashing down. Plus, to reach it, I have to balance on the back of the couch. Having a second set of hands is immensely helpful.

The only windows still not operational are the upstairs bathroom which is still sealed shut (and also sashcordless), one of the paired back hall windows (which has a horribly rusted and broken screen), and the larger of the office windows (which has no fitting screen). Oh, and there's one more in the back hall that I can't reach, since it's perched above the stairs, so it's a moot point anyway.

I plan to scrape the last of the removable caulk from the upstairs bathroom, though I hope to soon have the money to completely replace the whole bathroom. The way the window's frame is bisected by the wall with the shower plumbing, replacing that window requires a ton more work - one that a new bathroom can fix.

Overall, by my count, I have four new windows in the house (two each in my bedroom and the kitchen), six old ones in the main living area, two in the basement, and a whopping eleven geriatrics on the porch. The living room window is first on the list for replacement, and I'll also replace the two cracked window panes on the porch. From there, it's up to budget.

*Right after I moved in two years ago, the cat was hanging out in one of the porch windows that we knew was sashless but "seemed to stay in place just fine," in the words of my ex. One morning, we heard the most blood-curdling yowls. The window had fallen and trapped Collette. In her haste to escape, Collette's back paw had gotten stuck in the window, and she was hanging, dangling, flaying her other three paws against the wall, trying to get traction. Once we freed her, she slinked off to drip blood all over the new carpet and didn't walk normally for a couple weeks. To this day, she occasionally stops and shakes out the affected paw - I think it was likely a broken toe. Since then, if a window lacks operational sashes, it either remains shut or is firmly propped into place.

Next Up: A Timer

I like having my front porch lights on when I come home in the dark, especially in winter. Plus, studies show that a block whose homes are lit up have less crime. In my neighborhood, it sure can't hurt. And since I switched to the snazzy new CFL bulbs, the electricity impact is relatively negligible - though I did discover, less than two weeks after installing the first pair, that they are susceptible to brownouts.

In winter in northern Illinois, it gets dark by 4:30, long before I get home from work. Around Christmas, I string up Christmas lights on the inside of my porch windows and use a plug-in timer so they come on at sunset and go off about bedtime. I flip on the porch light when I get home. In summer, I flip on the light when it gets dark - lately around 8:30. But in summer, I wake up to blazing sunshine at 6 AM - and the porchlights are still on.

This weekend, my friend Sarah was showing off all the great updates her dad helped her with recently, one of which was a neat automatic timer for the front lights. Rather than plugging into an outlet, it's designed to fit in the existing switch slot. The model she got can be programmed for your timezone, whether or not you adjust for Daylight Savings, and your local area. From there, she was able to set it to have her lights on from dusk to dawn - exactly what I'm looking for.

I think I'll stop by Home Depot and pick one up.

Failure

The great sharpening experiment has failed. Saturday, I excitedly mowed my lawn. Yep, the blades are sharper, but the cut is still horribly uneven. My lawn looks like (shorter) crap. I'm weighing my options for next steps.

In happier news, I planted a tomato plant in one of my big clay pots that line the driveway, as well as numerous herbs - basil, oregano, cilantro and dill. I plan to add a bell pepper plant in the next few days, once I find a worthy candidate.

It's been another beautiful day that triggers my allergies, but that didn't stop me from my inaugural 5 mile bike ride through the my and neighboring neighborhoods.

Springtime Wandering

On this beautiful sunny day, I strolled through the neighborhood, buoyed by Claritin. This was the first such destinationless stroll this year, and it was divine. The air was clean and crisp - a nice 65 degrees with a slightly nipping wind in the shade, but beautiful sun permeated the trees.

I had nowhere to go or be, so I meandered through streets I don't usually wander through. I deviated from the main streets and drank in the neighborhood in springtime. It was all very suburban - kids galore, out on bikes and kicking soccer balls around. There were even a couple moments reminiscent of driver's ed videos, with kids darting into the street after a wiffleball without checking for traffic. But you can get away with that through much of the neighborhood.

There were blocks of old houses like mine, and a few blocks of identical ranches houses with only slight variations on shutter color and front door placement. There were a couple blocks of all brick homes, built in the 20s to replace the blocks destroyed by Elgin's infamous 1920 Palm Sunday tornado.

I walked past tiny local businesses I never realized were there in my car-fueled haste. I stopped into Herb's Bakery, which I've heard so much about, only to find their selection picked over and sparse. I never realized just how many tiny auto repair shops are in the neighborhood. I suppose it comes with being a less affluent area. I also passed dozens of homes for sale, and a couple with the tell-tale signs of foreclosure - including one on my corner.

But that's what I love about Elgin and my neighborhood. There's so much diversity in the houses and the people who live in them. When I was house-hunting, I was adamant about not wanting to live in a cookie-cutter subdivision where an overzealous homeowners' association dictates house colors and suitable flowers for planting. Sure, the lack of such covenants does open the door for the occasional teal house or the pink bodega, and you get your fair share of tall, unkempt lawns - but it always provides conversation. For example, in my neighborhood, there's a parakeet house, where the screened in front porch is filled with at least a dozen cages packed with the birds. You can hear it a block away!

I'm looking forward to many more such walks in the warming weather. I bike a lot, too, but even at 10 mph, you miss a lot of the details.

Who names these things? How do we stop them?

My lawnmower sharpening kit came with a great set of instructions that made the job pretty simple. Heck, each step was spelled out in three languages, and the diagrams actually made sense and mirrored my mower!

I also learned a couple new words. Anyone know what this sentence means?

"Carefully remove the pinion gear, being extremely careful not to allow the pawl to fall out of the slot in the reel shaft."

Huh?

Fortunately, the diagrams helped clarify the goal. But what is a pinion gear, and how does it relate to a pawl? Who named these parts? And where do the names come from?

Wiki comes to the rescue with a couple helpful definitions.

A pinion is usually the smallest gear in a gear drive train. In many cases, such as remote controlled toys, the pinion is also the drive gear.

A pawl is even less descriptive:

Pawl may refer to:

• A common component of a ratchet
• A part of the adjustable height locking mechanism of an extension ladder
• Pawl (constructor), a former racing car constructor
• A part of a table saw splitter, a safety mechanism designed to prevent kickback

But still - how to stop the madness of naming little bitty parts?

Sharpening My Skills - and Mower

My lawn looks like crap. There, I've said it. Spring is always tough, with frequent rain and ideal growing conditions that make the grass grow quickly, while keeping it too wet to actually mow with my old friend the reel mower.

This spring, it has been especially brutal. I nearly reached my limit with the reel mower and considered investing part of my "stimulus check" in what some (Don) call a "real" mower, complete with engine! But sanity prevailed as I realized that I had never sharpened the blades on my reel mower, and I'm now in my third grass-cutting season.

Last summer, I had idly realized that sharpening might be a good idea. I made a couple calls, and learned that there's only one place locally that does it, and even Ace farms out the work to them. Hence, the wait would be about three weeks! If I had planned ahead and sharpened in winter, three weeks would be no problem. However, in the height of summer, the neighbors - and city - might complain if I didn't mow my lawn for three weeks. I meant to send it off last winter, but alas - sloth prevailed.

Instead, I decided to investigate the sharpening kits that can be used spruce up the blades at home. Today, I stopped by my local Ace (I had checked Lowe's and Home Depot for the kit while I was on my door sojourn) and picked one up for $20. I brought it home and eagerly set up living room space for my project, spreading out a grubby old towel. I followed the directions and the whole process was pretty simple. From start to finish, it took maybe 30 minutes, 45 if you count the time to run to the Citgo for WD-40. (I can't believe I've been a homeowner for two years and didn't have WD-40!)

Basically, you take apart the wheel assembly, which is remarkably simple, and then paint goo onto the blades. The goo spreads on a deep blue with flecks of sparkle, reminiscent of the bad blue-glitter nail polish high school girls wear. Then, you insert a crank into the wheel and turn it counter-clockwise at a relatively high rate of speed for ten minutes. In the process, there's a horrific grinding noise, and the goo turns dark midnight blue. When you're done, wipe off the blades, reassemble the wheels, and WD-40 the whole thing. I did a test drive on a small strip of front lawn and cut it in a single pass, rather than the three cross-cuts that still left maddening uneven spots throughout the yard. Dandelions are still somewhat resilient, but they're the cockroaches of lawn care.

A huge sense of accomplishment and money saved - a very good project. Now I can keep my nice, quiet lawnmowing tradition and get some great exercise, too.

Home Depot Employees = Talent?

Wow.

Home Depot employees Walk Like Electricians. Via Make the Logo Bigger, a marketing blog I frequent.




And for the record, Great Stuff really is great, especially for a drafty old house!