The Fence

The fence has been a long-standing source of frustration, ever since the previous neighbors knocked out numerous slats. (Before that, a random teenager running through backyards also destroyed half a dozen slats.)

But we're on the move! New neighbors bought the previously condemned crack house and have spent the last couple months working around the clock on it. They essentially gutted the interior - save for the gorgeous hardwood floors and woodwork - and are replacing just about everything, including the plumbing, electrical and roof. Though they'll keep it a four-unit for now, they'll live in a couple of the units and thus have a vested interest in screening tenants when they're ready. I talked to them about the fence, and they assured me they value their cars too much to slam into our fence.

So I started watching for sales and tried to figure out the logistics. My sister called and asked what we planned to do with the old fence, then offered to haul it away to use in a bonfire. I took her up on the offer, and came home one day to find her with a crowbar, pulling down the old slats. The old stringers were so rotted that they crumbled into dust as soon as you pulled on them.

Since then, we've had an army of solitary posts left, which is just odd. Upon further inspection - and confirmation from our jack-of-all-trades neighbor, who witnessed the original installation - the posts are fine. They're still solid in the ground, no signs of rot or decay, and the concrete beneath is fully intact. So we decided to just replace the panels themselves.

Three weeks ago, Menards ran a sale, which I price matched at Home Depot (to get the extra 10% off). Originally my sister had thought we could fit the new panels in her pickup, but we quickly realized that while we might fit 3 or 4, hauling 17 required either multiple trips or renting a HD truck. We went with the rental.

Since then, we've been plagued by a ton of rain (October was one of the wettest in history!), illness and the logistics of trying to remove the evil mulberry tree. When we removed the old fence, we discovered metal stakes long the property line - and the tree proved to be 100% on our side. I signed the death order that day.

All 17 panels are still stacked up against the garage, ready to go. Our neighbor has said he's happy to loan us his nail gun to speed things along.

We'll get the new one installed very soon, especially given some crime in the house behind us last week.

Super Sunday

I had a really good Sunday. For the first time in weeks it wasn't raining (nor was the ground freshly soaked) and after a week being stuck inside with a cold, I was craving some fresh air.

After experimenting and making apple cider pancakes for breakfast, I planted about 75 bulbs that I had bought on clearance at Meijer. They're a mix of purple tulips, striped tulips and stock generic multi-color surprise tulips, and a handful of crocuses. I basically put them in bags by their height, dug all the requisite holes, then plopped them in at random. Can't wait to see what sprouts - or doesn't. Though I've learned my lesson about proper coverage to avoid feeding the squirrels.

Next, I whipped up some hydraulic cement (eerily similar to whipping up pancakes, only the directions do call for a mask and eye protection) and fixed a couple of the small cracks where the AC slab meets the foundation. This is exactly where we've had the minor basement leaking problem (much better lately), so a bit of extra sealant can't hurt. And this time, I didn't give myself chemical burns!

Then, while gingerly carrying my cement materials back to the garage, I spied a small, hairline crack beginning elsewhere in the foundation. I was able to scrape enough cement out of my bucket (though it was hardening rapidly) to patch it thoroughly. Preventative maintenance!

I ended my day by spending approximately 3 hours raking, raking, raking all the leaves that fell on a very blustery Friday. I realized I wasn't going to get them all, so I settled for "good enough" as I raked after the 5 PM sunset.

It was a really productive day. I needed a day like this.

Meet Rex

I've always wanted my very own gargoyle. My alma mater, the University of Chicago, was positively crawling with them. And besides, what yard couldn't use a good concrete grotesque?

After looking on and off for the right one (and the right price!) I got not just one, but two for my birthday!

My parents happened to drive past a place in Indiana that sells unfinished concrete yard art. In August, we road tripped there with high expectations. And came home with a pair of grotesques.

Since they're unfinished, the prices were much more reasonable. The work itself was pretty easy. I just needed to sand them down a bit, fill in the seams with a bit of concrete (the woman running the store? No, that's not the right word – yard? Truckstop? - even gave me a dixie cup full of the powder to mix up), sand again, and then apply a sealant. The biggest time suck was waiting for the sealant to dry.

And now I've got a gargoyle, at last.

The place also had an awesome fountain with a real (live?) gargoyle, perched on a little tower, spouting water. But really, where would I put it?

Maybe once I get around to rebuillding the garage and enlarging the backyard, I can create a little area in the backyard.

But yes, I am now one of those people with yard art.

Don named the smaller, sadder looking one "Pokey." He reminds me of Gollum.

Rain on My Parade

I had my weekend timeline carefully planned to finally finish the door! After staining the backsides of all the trim, I planned to do a first coat of stain on the front side on Friday evening, a second coat Saturday morning, install it all Saturday afternoon, then paint the door and the back stairs Sunday.

Until it started raining Friday afternoon. When I got home from work, it was really coming down. "Meh, too humid to effectively stain," I thought, planning instead to stain Saturday morning and again mid-day.

But Saturday was so oppressively humid that the saturated air wouldn't absorb any more moisture. I waited until the overnight rain dried up (ha!), then applied my first coat late Saturday morning, around 11. I figured it should be dry by mid-afternoon, plenty of time to apply a second coat, and then install first thing Sunday morning.

Every time I checked on my little staining set up - a couple old sheets on the garage floor - things were still wet. The mid-afternoon shower didn't help, either. I kept the garage door open while I was home, hoping that some non-existent breeze would help the process. And since I was working on the outsides of the boards - the pieces I'll have to look at every time I come or go - I wanted to make sure things were good and dry before applying a second coat to guard against smudges.

The last time I checked on my litany of lumber, about 10:30 PM, nearly twelve hours post-application, everything was still tacky. Sunday morning, first thing, before I even read made coffee (too hot for it, anyway), I went out to apply a second coat. Things were even more humid than Saturday, so I wrote off any chance of weekend installation.

And when I went to bed about 11 PM, some of the boards were still damp.

It's been a year since I started this project; what's another week?

Now excuse me while I go move the boards out of the garage. There's more rain forecast tonight.

The Year Without a Garden

I tried, I really did. This year I planned to be even more adventurous with the garden – I was going to grow everything from seed! No more “cheating” seedlings for me, no sir.

I started off okay. I planted dozens of seeds into seed trays. Some of them took right away – I'm looking at you, nasturtiums – but others, not so much. I got a couple marigolds to sprout, and the lettuce took off nicely. But few of my brave little seedlings survived the transplanting, nor the neglect. I tried to make a deal with Mother Nature to water my new plants, but she had other ideas.

The smaller bed has done pretty well – apparently nasturtiums thrive under neglect, and one random bachelor button reappeared from last year. (Not a fan, especially when it's one chalky green stem towering over the lily pad-style nasturtiums.) But the big bed looks pretty bare, and would look even worse if not for the lily that keeps multiplying. (The first summer in this house, it didn't exist. The next summer, it was a single shoot. By this summer, it's starting to take over. I have no clue where it came from. But I'll take it!) A couple brave marigolds survived the transplant, but for the first time, it's a year without zinnias. I've had luck with the zinnias before – my first summer, I planted seedlings and they thrived. Last year, I actually grew a bunch from seeds planted straight in the ground. But this year, after carefully selecting a wide variety and starting some in trays and others directly in the dirt, none of them took.

I think I'll blame the weather.

Crysta the Carpenter

“We'll make a carpenter out of you yet,”my dad said as I knelt on our makeshift saw horse, carefully lining up the saw against the line I had just drawn with my new T-square.

Yes, folks, Saturday was finally Sawdust Day. Still trying to finish the trim for the new door we installed over a year ago, my dad arrived bright and early with his miter saw, wood and numerous other tools to put up the trim. He had come over last Saturday, too, and left when we realized it was far more complicated than we had anticipated.

But this past Saturday, everything went to plan with no real complications. I made all the miter cuts myself, and we set up a makeshift workbench (empty driveway asphalt barrels with a heavy board across the top) to make the necessary traditional saw cuts. After starting my day with a kettlebell workout, my arms were jelly by the time Dad left. My knee has a nice bruise, too, from pressing against the boards as I cut them.

We had to cut some trapezoids (seriously, my house is FAR from square!), and some of the more interesting cuts left the boards looking like skyscrapers, due to fitting around the concrete slab of the foundation, existing trim and tight angles. In fact, the right side looks like the Sears Tower and the left like the Hancock Center.

But everything fits. We put the puzzle together at least three or four times, finding the right sequence and angles, drawing arrows on the backs so we knew which side had been cut an 1/8 of an inch smaller than the other end to appease the house. And, dagnabit, it FIT.

So Dad left, leaving me with everything I need to finally finish the job. I did the first two coats of stain Sunday and will finish the staining process this week. I went to the Depot this evening and bought one more board – a 1x4 would fit above the door, but to mesh with the existing trim, a 1x6 is in order – and some fresh wood putty, but other than that, I am all set.

I'm almost excited about next weekend when I'll have the time to install it all. Of course, fingers crossed!

What's So Sweet About It?

So when my neighborhood had all its, um, problems, one of the biggest sources stemmed from a “candy shop” across the street. When it first opened, it was truly a candy shop for kids – there were always tons of candy wrappers on my yard.

But then, things changed. The shop in question was bright pink, operated strange hours, covered up the windows with blackout curtains and shooed children away. The one time I ventured inside, the bare shelves boasted a few dusty cans of soup, a small fridge with cans of grape soda, and a few t-shirts and hoodies for sale. And lots of annoyed looks from the proprietress at my presence.

Plus, it was the only drive-up candy shop I've ever seen! Cars would pull up, and someone would race to the driver's window, and perform the transaction. They must have had call-ahead service!

Eventually things changed again, for the better. And the neighborhood quieted down. Kids started playing on the block again. It was great.

But now a new sweet shop has opened around the corner. And it reminds me of the old one. Which leads me to ask – why a candy shop as a ruse? Why take something so innocent and retro – heck, my small town never had a candy shop when I was a kid – and turn it into something so putrid? When I first bought my house – and closed on the same day as the pink shop's grand opening – I thought to myself, “How quaint. How suburban. How nice for kids, to have someplace in the neighborhood where they can spend their allowance money on candy.” Growing up in a cornfield subdivision that was miles from anything, I embraced the idea of an older neighborhood designed to allow residents to walk to their needs – and let kids do the same.

So why ruin that nostalgia with something so tawdry?

Hopefully I'm wrong. Maybe it really is just a candy shop, with its hand-made signs and shaded windows. Maybe they're trying to keep the sun out, not prying eyes.

The Door, Part 736

I installed a new back door last summer (Independence Day, to be exact). My parents, Don and I spent an entire day making the perfectly-square, new door fit with the settled, off-kilter, old house. It took lots of shimming and adjusting, and Dad left me tasked with getting the wood for the trim, staining it, and calling him over to make the perfect miter cuts and install.

Busy schedules, multiple job changes, travel and winter got in our way. Finally, a full year after I bought and stained the wood, Dad came over with his miter saw. And we quickly discovered just how not-square the areas to be trimmed are. In some cases, there's a full half-inch difference between the top and bottom measurements! So some of the boards fit, but others don't. Dad and I took very careful, precise measurements, and he went home to make the final cuts.

He comes back this weekend. We'll dry fit everything (fingers crossed) and then (if all goes well), I'll stain all the pieces (provided the hosue god consents and blesses us with a proper fit) and install it on my own (fit-pending). Then, once the trim is done, AT LAST I can paint the door and the steps to the basement.

But I'm not getting my hopes up. Some projects never end. With an old house, there are always multiple fun surprises in store.

Our Lawn, Seattle Style

What do you get when April and May weather continues through July?

Jungle lawn!

It's the close of the coolest July in decades - with not a single day at or above 90 degrees. We've had tons of rain, inconveniently spread on multiple days throughout the weeks.

Hence, the jungle lawn. It just keeps growing! And it seems to rain just frequently enough that it's hard to find a time to mow the lawn when it's actually dry enough to work with.

Perhaps we should get a goat. Or a couple rabbits. That should solve the problem.

Technical Difficulties

I got a new netbook to maximize my two daily hours of train time. I can write! On the train! Every day!

So I started writing and had drafted six or seven blog posts. Of course, I hadn't yet synced up and actually published said blog posts. Then I installed a bunch of updates to the netbook, which set caused problems requiring me to recover everything. Which, of course, wiped out those six or seven posts.Grrr.

But now I should be back in business. Stay tuned!

Thank you, Circle of Life

Around noon yesterday, I spied a squirrel lying on the garage roof. Later in the afternoon, he was still there, in the exact same strange, awkward position - sprawled out flat, not moving. Mid-day, I wondered if he was resting, but by evening, I assumed he was dead.

When Don got home, it was already dark, so I told him that the next time we were both home in daylight hours (umm.... Thursday? Maybe Friday?), we would have to go get the thing off the roof. This would involve the ladder (fun!) and shovel. That shovel - which came with the house - has done its fair share of animal removal duties, including Gus the Groundhog and the presumably rabid (or just plain batty) squirrel that spent an entire day twitching itself ten feet across the driveway, driving the cat nutty.

But this morning, in daylight, the squirrel is gone. I'll bet our friendly neighborhood raccoons took care of it for us. Thanks, guys! You're finally good for something besides scaring the bejeezus out of us when we deign to enter the backyard in the evenings.

Update: Don says that he actually heard the raccoons fighting it out over the squirrel carcass. Yum.

It's Time to Play.... Name! That! Plant!!!

Every year about this time, I play a game I like to call Weed? or Sprout?. In the weeks (month?) since I planted dozens of new seeds in my front garden - dozens of things have begun to sprout. Add monsoon rains, a dash of sunshine, and some transplants are suffering, but other new seeds seem to be thriving.

I started with a freshly weeded bed, added a couple new bags of soil and topped everything with mulch.

But the fact that the rain has enabled them to grow makes me wonder. Like this one - is it an offshoot of an existing lily that somehow migrated 5 feet north? Or is it a really big weed?

Or this one? The spiky leaves either indicate marigolds (yay!) or unidentified weeds (boo!):
With all the rain - despite the beautiful weekend, everything was still soupy wet - I haven't had a chance to investigate further. But I'm sure when I do... I'm going to have a lot of weeding. Sigh.

Stadium Lights

We're gradually making energy-saving adjustments to our old, old house. The new windows have helped our energy efficiency (and comfort!) tremendously. But for the most part, the changes we make have been, well, free. Or taxpayer-funded.

The city has been giving out those snazzy CFL bulbs at nearly every city-sponsored event I've been to in the past year, from picnics to lectures. And if you happen to be present towards the end of the event, organizers tend to hand them out in pairs or triples, rather than packing them back up. Which leads me to believe that the city knocked off a truckload of bulbs bound for Chicago. After all, every single individually packaged bulb (how's that for green?) is printed with the seal of the City of Chicago and the Richard M. Daley, Mayor insignia. Sometimes they have a "City of Elgin" sticker slapped over the top, but not always.

Anyway, like good citizens we've been installing the new CFLs as the old incandescent bulbs burn out. We were even proactive and bought (ie, overpaid for) bulbs for the front porch lights two years ago, since they're the longest running lights in the house. (Though it should be noted that the first ones last a mere six days - apparently brownouts burn the bulbs, literally browning them. But the second pair bought the next week is on its third summer, running every night from sunset until 2 AM.)

We haven't noticed a huge difference in the energy bills, but (mercury concerns aside) we've been pretty diligent. However, the quality of the light is very different than that from incandescent bulbs. This isn't an issue outside, where more light better illuminated the drug deals that used to happen across the way, and the security lights from HALF A MILE ACROSS THE RIVER blare into our bedroom at night.

But in the living room, with first one, then two and now four CFLs spotlighting the couch from the overhead fixture, we're just about to buy some more incandescent bulbs. They're so bright - Don has compared them to stadium lights - that they prevent relaxing (read: napping). I've found Don stretched out on the couch watching tv with his hand shading his eyes from the glare.

So we're not going green for the sake of being green. Rather, a little bit of common sense must prevail. Though we'll continue to collect the bulbs at city events - I wonder if there's an aftermarket.

Tomato!

A quick happy thought:

Late last week, the monsoons (3.75" of rain in a single hour on Friday!) flooded most of my potted plants lining the driveway. Most of the pots lack drainage holes, so my fledgling cilantro, basil and oregano are gone. (The lettuce might still pull through.) However, my tomato plant gets the biggest, bestest pot that I borrowed from a fellow tenant many moons ago. This plant is thriving and today - in the hot sunshine - I even have the beginning of an actual tomato!


Luckily, I also started some basil indoors that is doing pretty well. I can't wait to make some fresh bruschetta. Really, the bruschetta makes the whole planting ordeal worth it.

Into the Void

Another irrational fear is the gaping holes under my floor vents. One of the joys of an old house is the giant (one square foot or even larger!) vents on floors throughout the house. The cat loves them - especially in winter - and will puff herself up and stretch out to cover absorb as much of the air as possible.

But I'm always afraid of the gaping canyon beneath the pretty, heavy iron grate coverings, especially in the upstairs bathroom. Last weekend, while vacuuming out the vents (a twice yearly chore), I had my usual qualms about what lies beneath. I'm assuming it goes straight down two stories to the furnace in the basement, with nothing to stop the freefall. I've dropped the occasional thing into the hole - an aspirin, a q-tip - but what if I dropped something important? Could I ever get it back? Has a previous resident ever dropped something?

With a deathgrip on my phone, I took a picture of the abyss. Do they make a wrist strap for cell phones?

Either way, I'm glad I cleaned out all the dust (and accumulated cat fur) - and I'm breathing easier.

Cutting Metal Past Midnight

When the auto body shop opened across the street last year, I was wary. I was skeptical. But then I was delighted.

Sure, they sell car stereos, alarms and a more varieties of rims than I ever knew existed. They serve as a meeting point and hangout for a large group of men who spend their free time customizing and polishing their cars and preparing for car shows. But they cleaned up the long-vacant property, are relatively friendly, and usually close up shop by 8 PM. During the day, yeah, we'll hear outbreaks of car alarms as they're testing stereo installations, and occasionally they install so much bass that the pictures on our walls rattle, but for the most part, they're pretty good neighbors. And, they installed so many cameras to protect their investment that they drove the previous, crack-dealing neighbors out of business.

Occasionally, prior to car shows, the guys will pull some late evenings. We'll see lights on until 9 or 10 PM and hear a bit of music as they're finishing their work. Last night, though, was awful. It's been a long week, with activities every night. I haven't had a quiet, spend-time-vegging-on-the-couch night in over a week. I got home from the city last night about 10, did a bit of cleanup, made lunch for today, and fell into bed around midnight. As soon as it was quiet, we realized it wasn't so. Across the street, we could hear grinding metal. It was loud and one of those piercing sounds that penetrates your skull. Sure, living right by the train, we're used to the late night train horns and the rumbling of the house as the 1:30 and 4:00 AM freight trains tear through town. But they're relatively quick sounds that I usually sleep through. But this sound was insane. We called the police non-emergency number and logged a complaint around 1 AM and were told it was a busy night but they would try to send a squad out. I fell into an uneasy sleep, tossing and turning. Around 3 AM, when a huge thunderstorm rumbled in, I got up to make sure it wasn't raining in, and there were still lights on across the street. The thunder was drowning out the worst of the grinding metal, thankfully.

It was an awful night's sleep, and I'm paying for it today. Next time, I'm going over there myself. The guys are pretty friendly and I would think if I wandered over at 2 AM and asked them to please, for the love of god, stop cutting metal, they would listen? Maybe?

Seriously?

Whoever invented cheap white laminate cabinets never actually cooked or used them for their intended purposes. Or he wore gloves at all times.

They show fingerprints so damn quickly, and get dirty around the corners just from daily use. We won't even realize we spilled something until a long, streaky, greasy stain appears and won't.go.away.

Plus, the cheap laminate chips away.

I've only been in this house three years and am pretty gentle with my cabinets - heck, we don't have kids - and they look worse for the wear. I can't IMAGINE what kids would do to them.

And don't get me started on the cheap handles. We've bought a least a dozen tubes of superglue just to replace the ugly ceramic "decorations."

Ants!

For the second season in a row, a whole colony of ants has appeared. I first noticed a few scouts in the kitchen, and now I've got a half dozen parading along the back of the counter at any given time.

Once again, the source is likely the giant ant hill in the middle of the back yard, about 18" in diameter. We killed it last year with a shaker can of anthill-specific chemicals and a good drowning. But now it's back.

How are the ants making it to the house? Do they have an intricate subterranean interstate system spanning the 20 feet from the anthill onramp to my kitchen? (Don't answer that.) If so, does destroying the anthill leave those tunnels intact? Or are they quick to rebuild, with thousands - or millions - of workers at their disposal?

A coworker recommended gasoline and a blowtorch to take out the hill once and for all. But I think I'll stick with my non-inferno-causing chemicals for now.

Inside, I completely scrubbed the inside of the affected cabinets, housing the caramelized Coke-encrusted recycling bin and laid fresh ant traps (specifically for "little black ants") throughout the cabinets and underneath the fridge. I also put one on the counter where I keep seeing them - and watched in amazement as five ants did about-faces to trek towards their deaths. I also noticed a tiny gap in the caulk around the window above the sink that seems to serve as their portal. I'll be tackling that this weekend.

But for now... I'm going to go kill more ants along the Little Black Ant Death March trail.

Hissing

I have a relatively active imagination, so I've spent every night for the past week wondering why there are now snakes living in my toilet tank. At least, that's what it sounds like. And what goes through my mind as I'm showering. Or trying to fall asleep.

The hissing started about a week ago, right after the city installed our new water meter. I've lifted the lid and there's no signs of leaking or continuously running water. Everything works fine.

It just hisses, constantly and quietly.

Should I be concerned, or only if it starts gurgling?

Maybe a Machete?

Our string trimmer died last year after a whole season of service. Rather than buy another cheap one, I started using hedge clippers to trim the grass along our retaining wall, where the lawnmower can't cut.

It's easy enough, and since the retaining wall lifts the lawn about 3 feet above the sidewalk. And the distance involved is short enough that I can knock it out in about 10 minutes.

But I can't help but wonder if a machete would be more effective. And a conversation piece for the neighbors.

Crop Circles

With the spring thaw this year, I discovered crop circles in the back yard!

But rather than blaming aliens or the paranormal, I blamed my own sloth.

Late last fall, we raked our mass of leaves into one mountain and one smaller molehill. It was dark by the time we finished, so we said we'd move it to the curb the next day for pickup. Then it rained, rained and rained some more. Weeks went by. Critters moved into the pile, which seemed to shrink under the accumulated weight of the rain. It snowed. And finally, one day in late November, we scraped the rotting mess up to the street to be sucked up by the giant leaf vacuum.

This spring, as the grass began to come back to life, the outline of the leaf pile still remained yellow and dead. In the past couple weeks, some life is returning, but it's mostly dandelions.

Next fall, I pledge to promptly remove all leaf piles, no matter how dark it is!

The Jungle Next Door

I have found the advantage of the vacant house next door: it makes my own lawn look downright manicured.

But how long will the grass get before someone takes action?

With foreclosures growing, we're up to three on our block. In the winter, it wasn't such a big deal. The houses looked kind of peaceful with their undisturbed blanket of snow. I often shoveled the sidewalk next door because it was a quick job - what's another 10 minutes when I've been outside an hour? - and to help the numerous walkers around here. Nope, not being selfish at all with my walk to the train.

Now that spring has sprouted a jungle next door, though, there's a very clear line where my lawn - and my labor - ends and the property next door begins. Until Sunday, my dandelion population helped bridge the difference (the fallow land across the street sends a swarm of dandelion seeds my way), but especially since my second mow of the year, it's painfully obvious.

For now, I'll let live and be thankful that the one next door looks just overgrown and lush. But the second a tiger comes after me... I'm calling the city.

Wind

Stupid wind destroyed my tulips less than two weeks after they bloomed.
Though there are still petals all over the place.

Luckily, the seedlings I planted last weekend are starting to take hold in the new soil and mulch.

Winter - Vanquished!

After days and days of rain, I saw this in my front garden as I came home:

And now it's raining again.

I hope that Saturday will be dry enough to plant my egg carton-bound seedlings into solid ground!

A Geyser & A Burn

One night last month, during a heavy storm, I unlocked the back door and hear an unusual sound.

The basement was gurgling.

Rather, the wall in the basement had sprung a leak and water was flowing all the way across the sloped basement floor to the drain, which was fighting to keep up, and failing.

I changed into grubby clothes and set off to plug the leak, which was the size of a pencil eraser, and was acting like a geyser or fountain. It looked a lot like a kid turning their mouth into a water fountain.

Unfortunately, everything I had onhand that might fix the problem was water soluble and couldn’t set up against running water – caulk, spackle, grout, liquid nails. It was too late to go out to a hardware store, so I tried the one thing I thought might actually work.

Duct tape.

I balled up some duct tape and shoved it into the leak, then created a patch over the top. The gushing slowed to a trickled, enough that I was able to squeegee out the basement and survive the storm.

The next weekend, after researching solutions, I bought Drylock Fast Plug as a first step to fix the problem. That entire wall has been seeping for awhile, and in addition to the one geyser, there are several smaller holes not so visible to the naked eye. My research and the shockingly helpful Orange Apron I talked to concurred that patching with Fast Plug, followed by a solid coat of Drylock Waterproofer, should do the trick.

I carefully followed the directions and made sure to ventilate the basement and don a mask, gloves and goggles. I mixed up a small amount to get the texture right, then applied the concrete to the main hole, then several other spots I had noticed and marked. It was kind of fun, almost like finger painting. Emboldened by my success, I mixed up more and patched the entire joint, where floor meets wall. I decided I had done enough for the evening and packed up and went off to take a shower.

An hour later, my face was a red, peeling mess that burned hot to the touch. When Don got home from work, he took one look and asked what had happened.

Despite all my precautions, I had brushed hair off my face with the back of my gloves, likely leaving some Drylock dust on my cheeks. When I hopped in the shower, the water must have activated the powder. A quick Google confirmed my self-diagnosis – I had minor chemical burns all over my cheeks and forehead.

After some burning, itching and a very uncomfortable night, they started to disappear about twenty-four hours later. But next time, I’ll use a hair tie.

Finally! A Fence!

I had my new fence all planned out last summer. The money was set aside and I had a detailed blueprint with exact quantities for posts and sections. I was ready to rock and roll.

Then, one of the tenants next door got a new boyfriend who drove a giant conversion van. Every time he came over and parked in their driveway, he slammed into our fence. And not just a little tap, as other tenants had done over time – this was full fledged, fence-shuddering contact. He knocked multiple slats from their moorings. I cringed every time I heard the whine of the engine pull up, because I knew it would be followed by a loud thud.

He didn’t seem very approachable, so I never confronted him. Instead, we talked to the absentee landlord, who really didn’t give a damn but said he’d talk to the tenant.

We really didn’t want to invest the time and money to install a new fence if it was going to be abused so harshly.

But then, in a whirlwind of a few short weeks, the building was vacated and condemned, and the ground began its winter freeze.

We’re ready for the spring thaw to dig holes in the ground – below the frost line of 42”, mind you – and install this new fence. Though we still haven’t determined what to do with the old fence, which is in pretty sorry shape. Maybe stick it in the garage until next year’s Spring Cleanup?

Planting Again

Growing up, we had intricate landscaping put in by a previous resident. With black lava rocks and evergreen bushes, it was very dark and retro-70s, like much of the house. My experience with gardening consisted of Mom handing us shoeboxes and telling us to pull weeds on hot summer afternoons. She would pay us a set price per box we filled – usually a dollar or two.

In my apartments during and after college, I started quite a colony of houseplants, sharing cuttings with friends. I abandoned most of them when I got my cat, since it turned out most were poisonous to her.

My last apartment had a great little balcony. I installed planter boxes on the railings and tried to grow a variety of flowers and vegetables. I got a bit of basil out of the experiment, but not much else.

But in the house, my latent green thumb has come to life! From my first stab at zinnia seedlings the first spring to a series of ceramic pots lining the driveway, each boasting a different herb or vegetable, I’m starting to get the hang of it. And this year, I realized that waiting we’re past the danger of frost to plant outside means no blooms until mid-June at the earliest.

In addition to my tulips (now in their third year!) which are starting to come up of their own volition, I started a bunch of seeds in egg cartons out on the front porch. There have been some cold mornings but I think it’s just warm enough to foster life.

And I’ve got my first attempt at lettuce, going gangbusters. The zinnias and nasturtiums are starting, too, as is the basil. I can’t wait to get it in the ground.

Happy Housiversary to Me!

I've been very negligent lately. I don't really have an excuse, but let's get back to it.

Today is my third housiversary! I bought this wonderful piece of property three years ago today. That morning, I did my final walkthrough with my realtor to make sure all the issues arising from the inspection had been fixed. We ran through the checklist - toilet properly bolted down, ceiling fan balanced and, most importantly, asbestos wrapped - and headed off to the title company for the closing.

Less than two hours later, I returned, keys in hand, and let myself in. I slowly paced from room to room, marveling in the moment. It had rained earlier that morning, but the sun was breaking out through the clouds. For the first time in all my visits at the house - two looks, writing the offer, the inspection and walkthrough - I could see how sunshine flowed through the windows.

The sunlight illuminated the mess of cobwebs filling every corner and closet. Most of the light fixtures were just naked bulbs. A lightswitch had stopped working sometime between inspection and closing. I noticed that the tiny downstairs bathroom was horribly misaligned - the light fixture, mirror and sink were completely out of sync. And what about the piece of missing trim between the kitchen and bathroom?

All these little things hit me as I realized that I was stepping beyond the stressful-yet-exhilarating homebuying process, into the much more mundane and unknown world of home ownership. Suddenly, it was all my problem. And unlike leases measured in months, there was no time limit on the problems, nor anyone else holding my security deposit dollars to motivate me into action.

I immediately tackled the cobwebs and dust that had accumulated during the year the house sat vacant. The baseball wallpaper in the bedroom was next on the list. But three years later, some of these problems persist.The downstairs bathroom still bugs me every time I'm in there, but not enough to act when other projects are more pressing. The lightswitch was replaced right away, and I've only got one bare bulb left. But new projects always spring up with their own costs - in both time and money - and precedence. Obviously I'm going to take care of the geyser in the basement wall before I worry about a crooked mirror.

But in the past three years, I've realized that if I take them as them come, I can stay on top of everything, or at least ensure everything's still functioning and the house stays warm and dry. Rather than trying to do everything at once, slow and steady is indeed winning the race.

I hope the same can be true with this blog. Rather than trying to write for a book or The Great American Novel, if I stick to steady, shorter posts, maybe I'll make some progress.

It's worth a try.

Centralizing the Chaos

One of the reasons I love my house is its vast amounts of storage space. Coming from a one bedroom apartment to an entire house, complete with walk-in closets, a garage, and a full basement meant I had plenty of room to spread out!

I've spent nearly three years storing things willy-nilly, incorporating Don's things with my own with no rhyme or reason. And now we're in quite a pickle.

As I've accumulated tools and household items, they've dispersed. Extra nails? In the garage. Leftover plastic sheeting? Back hall closet. Tubes of caulk? Two in the hall closet, one in the garage and one in the basement. Leftover paint? It's all centralized in the coal room in the basement, but the paintbrushes? Those would be in the garage. This means the simple search for, say, a flat-head screwdriver can pose maddening as I try to remember where I used it last. And in winter, the prospect of venturing into the cold, across the icy driveway and into the dark garage is never inviting.

So I've embarked on a mission to organize. For Christmas, my parents got me a huge, heavy duty utility cabinet for the basement. Getting the cabinet to my house in the first place was interesting, as I had to wait until my sister (and her truck) was available to bring it over. Then, we struggled to even get the monster in the house in the first place, so it sat on the back stairs for two weeks until a friend of Don's came over and helped out. I started building the cabinet (comprised of approximately 792 pieces) on Super Bowl Sunday and made pretty good headway, overcoming the non-verbal, pictorial directions and identical-looking parts labeled W and BB and GF. But then, I got to the point where I needed a second set of hands, and the Super Bowl was about to start, so I put the project on hold. And it sat for another week and a half, during which I was worried the snow melt would flood into the basement.

But it didn't, and Don and I finished assembling the cabinet one evening. We had a bit of a problem when we discovered that the cabinet - at 75 inches tall - is too tall for much of the basement. We found one place where it would fit, but it took some wrangling to get it around the ductwork. And now as I roam the house and find random home repair/maintenance/improvement materials, they're beginning to migrate to a single point. No longer will my medicine cabinet boast a putty knife all its own, and the pliers in the kitchen drawer have given notice.

Heck, we may even put a pegboard in the basement to further organize things!

Digging Trenches

I spent this beautiful 55-degree day outside with just a light jacket. It was so refreshing to stay outside without scurrying back to shelter!

But I had a mission. This was the first thaw we've had since around Christmas, so the snow had built up pretty high. In fact, with the last couple snows, we had run out of room to pile it up along the driveway, especially at the foot of the driveway where the plows only made things worse. The entrance to the driveway had gotten progressively more narrow and took a precise turn to get in just right without getting stuck. Plus, the most recent snows hit when it was bitterly cold, so we had done the bare minimum clearing, which had created a nice, icy layer underneath.

So today, I set out to widen the entrance to the driveway. When I got home from my mid-day errands, my neighbor was out doing exactly that. He brought over one of his roof shingle shovels - with a spiked end - that proved very effective at chopping through the ice.

I spent a solid two hours on the end of the driveway alone. The snowpack was at least three feet tall, so I climbed up and hacked at it. Living near the top of a hill, the street often serves as a bit of a waterfall on rainy days and thaw days, so a trickle was already beginning to flow. Even so, since my neighbor - just a tiny bit higher up the hill, whose peak is the house on his other side - had already made good progress, I had a lake of dirty, cold water forming at the end of my driveway where it ran into the still-strong snowpack. So the hacking took on a more strategic approach. I felt like I was part of the Army Corps of Engineers, strategically opening up trenches every time water started pooling somewhere.

With the warm weather, neighbors were out walking their dogs and getting groceries. I chatted with a couple of them as they strolled by, and as I was just about ready to call it good-enough and go back inside, one of those neighbors reappeared in his pickup truck, equipped with a plow blade. He waved me out of the way and shoved what was left of the snow pack back, widening my path even more. I smiled and thanked him with a neighborly wave. As soon as he left, water started pooling again, so my neighbor and I quickly reopened a main trench and were rewarded with a babbling brook.

I'm sure my arms and back will be sore tomorrow, but it was a great day.

Fabulous New Windows

Last Monday, with an arctic cold front encroaching on the Midwest, my new windows were finally installed. They're fabulous. The timing couldn't have been more perfect. Monday was a seasonable day in the upper 20s, and the installers worked carefully so there was never more than one hole in the side of the house at any given time. By the time they left, we had five new windows - three in the living room, and two in the office.

The next day, the bottom dropped out and we had a series of days where we never broke 0 degrees, with overnight windchills hovering around -40 degrees. And the windows met their first test with fortitude and grace. No drafts. I noticed the biggest difference touching the glass itself. The new windows felt cooler than the room temperature, of course, but not bad at all. The old windows still elsewhere in the house were caked in sheets of ice and were barely touchable.

Definitely worth it. I just hope the heat bills reflect it.

Starting the Year Right

New Year's Day, Don came home from running errands, bearing a beautiful bouquet of roses. "I just wanted to start the year off right," he said. Then he dropped to one knee and proposed. I did the excited-girl-flapping-hands thing and accepted, of course.

It really is the very best way to start the new year.

We haven't set a date yet but are figuring it out. Regardless, it's an exciting time in the old house.

Breaking My Broken Windows

I've had two cracked window panes on my front porch since I moved in. They've both grown a bit, likely due to freeze/thaw cycles. I always thought replacing a pane of glass would be expensive, so I put off repairs. Plus, since both affected windows are on the porch, there was no direct effect on the interior of the house itself, though certainly a colder porch does lead to a colder house.

But they've always bugged me. So when I was in Lowe's in early October and saw that you could buy sheets of glass cut to size, I jumped on it. Sure, it was only single pane glass, but for the porch, that suffices. Lowe's didn't cary glazing putty, but Ace did.

I brought my measurements into Lowe's and after a search for an employee who actually knew how to use the glass-cutting machine, I had my sheet of glass. Well, actually, the first one he cut broke while he was wrapping it up, but the second one made it home unscathed. I spent an hour carefully prying the window frame apart - several coats of paint served as glue. Finally, I release the lower pane and laid it out on the floor.

That's when I realized I had mis-measured the glass. So I re-measured - thrice, this time - and trotted back to Lowe's.

This time, we went through two broken sheets before coming up with a third one cut to my new and improved measurements. We wrapped it carefully and I brought it home.

This time, I carefully taped an X across the old glass and gingerly tapped with a mallet until it broke. I scraped out the decades-old, dried-out putty and started putting new glazing compound into the groove. When it came to lay the new glass in place, it didn't fit. I flipped it around, and it still didn't fit. Annoyed, I couldn't understand how my new measurements - taken three times - could be wrong again! So I measured the glass and compared it to the scrap of paper still in my pocket. The measurements in my pocket didn't match the glass. I had been very careful to throw away the old, incorrect measurements to make sure I gave the right ones to Lowe's. But the guy had cut it wrong.

By this point, it was about 6:30 on a Sunday night. I called Lowe's and learned that they closed at 7:00, so I hopped in the car and ran back to the store. At first, the bored high school student working at Customer Service didn't want to allow an exchange, saying that custom-cut pieces can't be returned. I was welcome to buy another sheet, though. Luckily, the employee who had cut the piece wrong happened to walk by, saw me with the glass, and intervened, shrugging when he realized his mistake. After two failed attempts (there's got to be a better method that doesn't cause breakage 2/3 of the time!), I got my piece cut - and verified its dimensions myself - and left the store.

By the time I got home, it was good and dark. I massaged the glazing compound a bit to soften it up and lined the window up - it was ready to go. I started to slide it into place and then asked for Don's help. It fit perfectly. But then, in the process of filling the groove with more glazing putty, it cracked. We laughed. It was 8:30 on a Sunday night. All the hardware stores were closed. I was booked on a flight to DC at 6 AM the next morning and hadn't started packing. So we used packing tape to seal it up.

So, eight panes of glass later, my window still has a packing tape bandaid. I'm very hesitant to try again. At this point, I could have just paid someone to do it for the amount of time I've spent.

And that's the thing about home ownership. You have to figure out the value of your time. Sure, on paper, replacing a broken window pane would take $20 and an hour. But inexperience and working with fragile materials may mean that it's worth hiring a professional.

Next step: I'll investigate the cost of bringing the whole sash into a glass place and leaving it to the pros. And hopefully I can get rid of the packing tape once and for all. Heck, I might even fix the second window, too.

2008 Plans Recap

A little over a year ago, I started this blog and listed my home improvement/repair plans for 2008. Let's check in and see how those turned out, shall we?

Replace the back door. - Complete! Well, kind of. I did indeed replace the door in July with the help of my parents and boyfriend. However, we're not yet quite done... I have the trim stained but it needs to be cut to the right size and installed, and, lacking the right saw to do so, it hasn't happened yet. And I really should put a fresh coat of paint on the door itself - I bought the paint in August but now it's too cold. I can't wait until I finish and can actually enjoy the completed result - though I've already noticed the far superior insulation compared to previous winters!

Install a utility sink in the basement. Not yet, but now that it's winter, the need is even more pressing.

Fix the two broken panes of glass on the porch. I kind of replaced one but have to redo it. The story merits its own post.

Remove the wall AC unit in the living room - a remnant of the days before central air - and replace it with a window. COMPLETE as of Monday! And it looks so much better and brighter!

Replace some windows. COMPLETE as far as my budget currently allows. Monday, I replaced three windows in the living room and both in the office, just in time for the cold snap. And yegads, what a difference.

Now to prioritize for 2009... and complete the delinquencies for 2008.

The River Steams

We've been in the midst of the coldest weather in 15 years this week. This morning, I woke up to a temperature of -23F, with a windchill in the -40s.

It rarely gets this cold, so when it does, you get to see strange things. Like the Fox River, frozen solid, with what appears to be steam rising in big sheets at sunrise.

I wanted to take a picture as I walked to the train this morning but I was running late and also a bit terrified of removing my glove to dig my phone out of my pocket. Luckily, someone downstream apparently had the same thought and sent it in to Tom Skilling's blog.

Bottles reborn!

Last winter, some of our less savory neighbors kept tossing empty beer bottles over the fence and into our back yard. Eventually, the troublesome tenants moved out, and now the building is actually vacant, condemned and awaiting a sheriff's sale next month. (Let me know if you're interested in buying an 1860s 4-unit oversized single family house!)

A couple weeks ago, during a thaw, though, I noticed something in our front yard, among the melting snow.

I see the neighborhood is getting classier by the day!