April 1 is just around the corner!

For some people, spring starts with the appearance of the first tulips (hasn't happened yet). Others consider Opening Day (which is Monday). More scientific types say spring starts with the spring equinox, which was March 20.

But for me, spring really starts when I can tear the plastic from my windows and let out the stale winter air. Most years, we'll have a random 60 degree day in mid-March that makes me start picking at the double-sided tape until common sense prevails and I know we're past the last snow. I usually tell myself April 1.

This year, we haven't had any of those really warm days yet, and it snowed on Thursday. Tuesday's forecast is for "Windy and much cooler with partly sunny skies. Northwest winds 16-32 m.p.h. and gusty." The high will be 48, with a below-freezing low of 29. Next Friday is forecast to be "Blustery, chilly and raw." Sigh.

Maybe I'll wait until after I get back from Florida on the 8th.

The Fallacy of Rope Caulk

Every year, I spend a lot of time trying to weatherproof my leaky windows. This stretches back to the apartment days, when my ancient bedroom windows would rattle back and forth with the slightest breeze.

When I can find it, I like removable caulk. It goes on like normal caulk, but dries to the consistency of rubber cement. Come spring, it's pretty simple to just peel it off, as long as you have enough patience to take your time and not accidentally remove the varnish or paint around the windows. Even so, it's relatively pricey - especially when you consider how many old, drafty windows I have! - and can be hard to find. I found some very early in the season at Wal-Mart, but despite hunting, I didn't find another tube until nearly Christmas at an Ace.

For the best possible weatherproofing, I use removable caulk, let it set, and then shrink wrap the windows. This combination works really well, and I use it in areas that it makes a huge difference - namely the living room and my office. In the very few rooms with new windows, I either don't bother (kitchen, since the time I spend in there is often over a hot stove), or I only shrink wrap (my bedroom).

However, one of the biggest energy losers in the house is my lovely porch, or three-season room. With eleven windows, all of them old and drafty (and one cracked - on my spring project list), it leaks like a sieve. And the giant window between the porch and the living room allows a ton of this frigid air through, despite sealing that window. But it's not worth the immense time and effort it would take to shrink wrap the whole room. So this year, I tried rope caulk. I'd used it before to middling success in my old apartment, so I bought a roll and spent a November morning wrangling it into place. It presses into place pretty easily- I used my fingers and a putty knife. But I've found it doesn't stay put. Every time I go onto the porch to get my mail, there seems to be another piece of rope caulk on the ground, having fallen from its home. At first, I'd diligently search for its origin and lovingly replace it. But now, I don't bother - and it seems fully half of what I originally installed has fallen. The cat is delighted - she sees the pieces, usually at least 6-8 inches long, as toys for her stealthy forays onto the porch.

It may be user error on the part of the installer - was it too cold that morning? - or maybe it's just an inferior product. Ideally, I'd replace all eleven windows, but my limited window funds will be spent on rooms I spend more time in - namely the living room. But either way, I doubt I'll use rope caulk again.

New fun term: Frost Heave

After a winter of record-nearing (and maybe breaking, if tonight's forecast of 5-7 inches of "snizzle" comes true) snow, I finally closed the gates across my driveway yesterday. The gates have been ensconced in snow banks since November. Last year, I learned the hard way that keeping them closed during a snow storm made shoveling much more arduous.

So there was much rejoicing when I came up the driveway last night and saw the (almost) clear driveway. Before I even unlocked the back door, I swung the right gate closed, then the left one. But in the center, the latch wouldn't meet. Puzzled, I looked at the hinges, thinking maybe one had slipped - maybe some oil was in order. Then I noticed that the fence itself was sitting on the driveway, despite the wheels that enable easy swinging.

Apparently, I have discovered (developed?) a frost heave. Essentially, during the numerous freeze/thaw cycles, water permeated a crack, froze (expanded), and pushed the pavement up. I knew I should have patched those asphalt cracks last fall. I bought the goo to do it, but never actually got around to it.

Lesson learned. Now I need to get taller wheels to enable proper gate closing, which probably also means raising the hinges. Fun times.

Mysterious critters

Sometimes, I come into the kitchen and find Collette sitting on the floor, staring up at the exhaust fan/vent with rapt fascination.

The old-fashioned Air King seems to elicit the same response among my friends: "My grandma has that same fan in her kitchen!"

I've never used it all that much, since I've never previously had an exhaust fan. Really, I only flip it on when the smoke detector (the one too close to the stove) goes off.

But increasingly over the past couple weeks, Collette's interest has been piqued by rustling and rattling coming from within the fan. My guess is that some critter is trying to build a nest in the vent part that protrudes outside. I went out to investigate it a couple weekends ago, but learned just how high up it is - I didn't think about my house effectively sitting half a story above ground level. At the time, the ground was much too icy to consider safely using my ladder to climb up and have a look. Now, the ground's too soft and muddy - I don't think I could stabilize the ladder sufficiently to be safe.

Too bad I can't just send Collette up there. I'm sure she'd take care of the uninvited guest, lickity-split.

History

I live in an old neighborhood. I was drawn to the area because the houses are all different and there are some families who have been here for decades. My next door neighbor (the good one) grew up in his house and bought it from his father about ten years ago. He has told me stories about the elderly couple that lived in my house when he was growing up. Apparently, the lady paid neighborhood kids a quarter per bucket of acorns they collected in the fall, then parceled them out to squirrels over the winter. (Personally, I think she created an unnecessary middleman, since modern squirrels seem to have no problem digging nut holes all over my yard and flowerbeds.)

In the history of Elgin, my neighborhood was the home for many of the workers at the Elgin Watch Company. At the time, it was called Dutch Flats since it was originally settled by Germans who fell into the common mistake of being called "Dutch" rather than "Deutsch." From where I sit at this very moment, I can see across the river to the site of the former factory and tower - though now it's a somewhat seedy strip mall. In the summer, the grove of trees block much of this view.

When I was buying, I knew I wanted an older house, since they often have far more character than the newer cookie cutter houses, plus they're more often situated in the older, urban neighborhoods that are walking distance to (in my case, anyway) the train depot, supermarket, library and the historic downtown. True, new houses can have the manufactured charm of built-ins and woodwork, but that usually comes at a steep price. Plus, I could afford far more old house. I gave an emphatic no to the new cornfield subdivisions that require a car to get milk. I didn't want to live in a place where visitors had to know the exact house number to differentiate mine from its identical neighbors. I like being able to say, "It's the white house with the big porch."

When I found my house, the realtor guesstimated it had been built in the early 1900s. The inspector guessed about 1920. The township said 1900, which seems to be its default date for the neighborhood. I went with the inspector's guess and imagined my house being built during the Roaring 20s, with Prohibition and a booming economy.

Then, last night, at my neighborhood meeting, someone brought a copy of an architectural survey the city did a few years ago. Excitedly, I flipped through it. Each house in our neighborhood was listed, along with date, style and any special significance. My house is listed as a Gabled Ell style built circa 1890. Apparently the Gabled Ell features a floorplan with the entrance in the corner (check), a steeply pitched roof (check), a second floor gable of nearly equal height to the main roof (check) and tall second floor windows (check). They were built using a simple design, but allowing for more light and cross-ventilation than traditional. That last bit was one of the big draws of my house - it felt very open and sunny upon first look, and that remains true. In summer, with windows open, I get a great breeze, especially since I'm perched on top of a hill next to a river.

But now that I've discovered my house is older than I originally thought, I'm anxious to research my home's pedigree. Apparently the city has a trove of resources. Some rainy Saturday, I'll head down to the library and see if I can trace its history. Depending on the number of owners over the years, I might be able to put together a pretty comprehensive history!

Gardening Tools

My parents recently visited my Grandma Charlene in North Carolina. She sent them back with a very nice set of gardening tools for me, which I got today. I've very excited - it's a full set of every tool I could need! They all match and can be stored in a nifty case. They're far better than my current sorry excuse for a set that I cobbled together from Wal-Mart.

The snow is mostly melted, and I should see crocuses or tulips any day now...

The thaw

Spring has been teasing us the last couple days. With Daylight Savings last weekend, it's fully light out when I get home. The air, while still brisk, allows a bit of lingering outside - in the lighter coat, to boot! With 50 degrees today and tomorrow, I expected my household hazards to be centered around the basement.

Luckily, my basement is still bone-dry, despite the melting. Perhaps my basement leakage isn't as bad as I've feared! Maybe I can handle the thaw, and any fixes I make are just icing on the cake!

However, the hint of warmer weather brings another threat. Yes, that's right - the pink bodega drug house is back in business, with a new dealer leading the charge!

I spent my first summer in this house vaguely aware that something wasn't quite right with the pink candy shop across the street. It held its grand opening the day I closed on my house. Sure, there were lots of kids around at first, but as the summer wore on, the kids seemed to be replaced by an older crowd. A couple minor burglaries showed up in the police blotter. And it was just plain suspicious. But I was naive, and enjoying my first summer in my house, turned my attentions to other tasks, like destroying all the crabgrass.

Last spring, as soon as it started to warm up, things got bad. It was impossible to deny that active drug deals were happening, and the police knew it, too, and kept an eye on things. One very late night, a car drove by and randomly fired a couple shots two doors down. Finally, on my birthday, a bust at the apartment building next door resulted in five arrests. The rest of the summer was pretty quiet. Winter is never an issue, as the shop lacks proper heat and keeps pretty minimal hours, not opening at all on the coldest days.

But now, some of the original troublemakers have drifted back into the neighborhood and appear ready to resume their apparently lucrative business with a new leader. I can only hope that we can nip this in the bud before it grows.

Now my crocuses, on the other hand - those should be appearing any day now, once the snow finishes melting.

Four (more) bottles of beer on the lawn

Yep, I ventured into the backyard yesterday to try to get rid of the four new empty beer bottles littering the snow. It appears the morons next door have switched to MGD from Modelo. Nice.

I threw two back over the fence. The other two are firmly frozen into place against the garage, where melting snow fell off the roof and then refroze. I wonder what other surprises the thaw will yield.

I'm still struggling with the thought process of the beer swiggers next door. In what universe is it okay to throw trash into your neighbor's yard? I'm especially befuddled because there are eight trash/recycling cans in their parking area (two per unit; it's a huge old house that's been carved up into four one-bedroom apartments). Do they throw the bottles over their cans for fun? Does hitting my garage get them extra points? Sheesh.

Lift me to the Lights!

The nine foot ceilings on the main floor of my house were listed as a feature when I first saw the listing. I agreed they were nice, making the rooms feel bigger and more spacious.

But since moving in, the nine foot ceilings have proved a bit challenging. For example, some genius decided that the perfect place for the ground floor smoke detector is about six feet from the stove. When it goes off, I can't quite reach the detector to stop the insane beeping, even standing on a chair. I've learned that a mop handle does the trick and stops the alarm and also the cat's harmonious cries.

The high ceilings are even more of a hurdle when combined with stairs - especially the uneven, concrete stairs leading to my basement. And of course, directly above this mess, is one of the most-used light fixtures in my house. Since this fixture lights up the back hallway, foyer, closets and steps to the basement, it gets flipped on and off numerous times a day, making a CFL bulb not practical, since those take a solid 40-60 seconds to warm up and provide full light.

Last night, I got home and discovered the bulb had burned out. It's always a bit precarious climbing up to it, since the best way is to set the stepladder at the top of the curving stairs and lean over the abyss while stretching with all your might to the fixture. I got everything set up and climbed up, but found my still-not-quite-right ankle couldn't handle the requisite tippy toes. I reluctantly turned the task over to Don.

Maybe there should be a height requirement for home ownership.

New Toys

Over years of cultivating my tool collection, I've built a pretty respectable, useful toolbox. Inevitably, some projects require additional pieces that I add from time to time. Some are cheap enough to pick up as I need. Others, I borrow from Dad - though he has banned me from re-borrowing his sander, saying it's useful and inexpensive enough that I should get my own.

But somehow, a few of the basics have slipped through the cracks. Hence, my (moot) rubber mallet purchase for the towel bar project added some nice heft to the toolbox.

Sunday, I rectified one of my long-standing (back to apartment days!) gaps. At Wal-Mart, looking for Liquid Nails, I passed through the small tool aisle and stopped dead in my tracks. I think I may have even uttered an, "Oh!" to the confusion of passers-by. Right in front of me, were the holy grail of my tool box: needle nose pliers. Surviving without them has required some ingenuity, usually involving tweezers or fingernails or trying to corrupt the regular pliers. Not having them has never delayed a project or necessitated an emergency run to Ace. I've made do. But now, $1.87 later, my toolbox is one toy closer to completion. I can't wait to actually use them.

The best part...

What's the best part of being a home owner?

Not the pride of ownership I feel every time I turn the key (cheesy, but true).

Not the ample space to spread out.

Not the postage-stamp backyard for sunning and stargazing.

Not the unpredictable snowshoveling or the fear of frozen pipes.

Not the costs of keeping up with repairs and improvements.

Not the frustration wrought by the crack-dealing neighbors or last summer's drive-by shooting.

Not the joy of turning the corner and seeing my house, lights on, an inviting beacon on a cold, dark night.

No, the best part of homeownership is the tax break. After paying nearly a quarter of my annual income in mortgage interest(!), come March, I get a sizable tax refund. I use it to pay down debt. Sigh.

But today, at least, that tax refund makes it all worthwhile.

Water, water everywhere

Another warm Sunday spent periodically squeegeeing the basement. I think I've finally isolated the problem, though. After researching the common indicators of basement problems, I've tested the walls and window wells to verify that they are indeed dry, and the problem appears to be on the north wall, where the wall meets the floor. There, hydrostatic pressure is pushing water from the saturated ground through tiny cracks I can't see - cracks that, from my research, I've found are relatively common in the joint between wall and floor - explaining why there's no dampness on the walls.

Thoughts of expensive sub-pumps and foundation excavations terrify me. But before I venture down that route, I'm going to try a couple less invasive, cheaper methods.

Since it was warmer today (over 50 degrees!), the melting snow coupled with the rain shower further saturated the ground, forcing more water into the basement. I've noticed the past couple weeks that warmer days, I have water as the snow melts, but bitterly cold days, the ground is frozen nice and solid. I ventured out into the yard to the north side of the house, where the problem is. There's a downspout coming from the roof and gutter, shoved into the ground. It's only about eighteen inches from the house, and the ground surrounding the spout was rock-hard, solid ice, with puddles all around. My theory is that this spout is too close to the foundation. So once the ground thaws a bit more (and I deal with more mild flooding), I'm going to excavate the downspout and move it another 4-5 feet from the house. Hopefully, this, coupled with a bit of fresh sealant, will solve the problem. If it only floods a couple times a year - during ultra-heavy freak rains (like the 5 inches in 24 hours last August) and once during the spring thaw, I can deal. It's the nightly post-work cleanup that's grating on me. Fortunately, if I stay on top of it, it doesn't venture much beyond the wall.

On the bright side, the constant water near the furnace seems to have helped humidify the house just a bit. Lemonade - made with dirty gray water.