One year ago today: May 17, 2017, puttering.
Five years ago today: May 17, 2013, Peak Freens, sigh.
Nine years ago today: May 17, 2009, I can explain.
Random years ago today: May 17, 2014, bronchodilation.
Sho’ nuff, JZ and I cannot be partners on renovations, this house or any other until further notice. But we still have “contractor disagreements”. He places faith in what he’s learned over the years, whereas I trust my own research. It’s too easy to say the textbooks led me astray—if you ignore that often I’m reading the building codes. Working to spec is not overkill, that has become an ineffective stance because I’ve successfully applied the book-learning and ha, it turns out I know a lot of the how-comes that escape those who learned by apprenticeship. We had many a lively five-minute difference of opinion as we went over the drawings and photos I’d supplied of the progress. Remember, you see only 5% of the photos here [in the blog]. The entire project is documented.
And I don’t want any grumbling. That is not going to alter the facts. Go get your own house, I’ve already got one and it is twice the house I bought. This is not a dent in our other plans, but others, including JZ are not taking into account what a major planning accomplishment this was on my part. I would like a little credit, if not appreciation. Money, materials, all of it had to be lined up just as well as if I had experience and the work done as if I were a full-fledged contractor. I know it took time and I’ll say it again: I hope it takes forever. It’s become like bass playing, the time spent at it is not deducted from your lifespan.
We also talked money overall, so the lightning trip back today (a record 3 hours 35 minutes) gave me time to ponder the cash flow situation. JZ, whose income is twice mine, still too often has to “wait for payday” to do anything out of the routine. Believe you me, renovating a cabin is never routine. That first year over here was damn slow because I had to recover from both the financial hit of paying cash for this property and on top of that commence and conduct the renovations myself. You want to talk about that part of the “plan”, I’m ready any time. We are not chitchatting about painting the hall closet, folks. I had to level the damn foundation myself, if anyone wants to talk on-the-job training, let’s start with that.
Seriously, this was an outrageous amount of work.
The photo is the Taurus looking out through the gates of the old Western Hotel in Arcadia, Florida. I’d dropped by to talk to my harmony singer, the barkeep who was in the barbershop quartet. Got to check in with him regularly since I have no established schedule for recording and, well, those in his occupation tend to move a lot without warning. But he had this sloppy drunk gal falling all over him, so it was hello-goodbye. When people ask me how I found Arcadia, I tell them how one day I just plunked my finger on a map. To a one, they tell me I need to get better fingers.
The Saltair Pavillion.
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From the movie soundtrack (one tune) that I wrote, called “Alaine & Snookie”, this is Snookie. Say hi to Snookie. The tie-in is that tomorrow, I’m driving to Ft. Meyer’s to go visit the military museum. Along the way there is reputedly the best and cleanest animal shelter in Florida. Alaine wanted to look in and I convinced here there is no such thing as just a look-in at the pet home. So we’ve decided to make it a small outing. Don’t worry Snookie, you will be back at the mansion. It is an animal shelter, so be prepared to see needles and such.
I’ve been away six days on this trip. That’s why I will not keep a pet in the house. I don’t trust pet sitters. I love travel too much to ever be a homebody. In consolation, my yard is still the bird playground of the neighborhood and I have not yet begun to build birdhouses. Years ago, when I worked in downtown Seattle, I used to walk all the way downtown. Yes, I was a walker, sometimes strolling twenty miles for something to do. But I made sure the roads had shoulders. Well, there was an old house in the business district, surrounded by offices. The rumor was some stubborn old guy lived there and would not sell out. His place was (ha, I get to use this word again) festooned with birdhouses. Nobody ever saw him but rumor was he was crazy or something. But no birds were ever seen nesting in his yard.
Later I found out that birds avoid painted birdhouses, and his were designed for decoration. Painted up like a toilet. What? A toilet? Yes, wait until you see the last laugh today. So the old guy’s heart was in the right place. I do what others don’t, as a rule. It’s called research. I know the houses need 25 feet clearance from each other unless the bird lives in colonies. And I use only raw untreated lumber.
Say hello to Snookie again. See, bet you feel better already.
ADDENDUM
[Author's note: the person who donated this saw lived a charmed life. When I inspected that 2x4" he used as a sacrificial plate, it had several nails buried in the wood that he missed by tiny fractions of an inch.]
This saw is similar to the shock saw, except it is smaller and handier. Note the replaceable wooden base plate. The saw isn’t new yet it works fine, it speeds up instantly to 7,000 rpm. Yes, it was quite a find. Glad you like it.
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