5/31/10

Quiet three day weekend. The house will take another week to finish demolishing. Then we have the Engineers. Everybody gets to write a report. Things like the furnace gets tested.

Next we figure out what we can do and how much above the Insurance money this will cost. Because we want to make changes. Like the garage and the down stairs shower.

We have been impressed by how the demo guys sort for the dumpster. I don't know if the dumpster people care, but I bet they do based upon how carefully it's being sorted. The trim and woodwork that contained lead paint were hauled off separately.

Here's the order of things as I understand them. 1) reports 2) discussions with insurance adjuster 3) draw up repairs, changes, schedule 4) figure out money 5) get permits.

When all of that is done, the contractors can tell us how long the project will take. Right now we are just over 2 months into it. We're hoping to be back in the house before Christmas. Don't bet against us. Not because we're so determined, but because it will break my heart. I need the hope of illusion.

5/28/10

No matter how you slice this week, it was depressing. So depressing in fact I had a major meltdown at work. Amazingly enough no one has asked for my resignation - yet. But the worse news is that right now I am on the receiving end of hugs, pats on the back and sorrowful looks.

Who do I have to blame for this? Myself. When all I want is my life back. I want to be living at home, not in a apartment. I want to be able to focus on work. I want to quit worrying about money, colors, flooring, french doors, balloon framing, lead paint and new abatement laws.

Every day I visit our once-cute little house and want to weep. Our house is being demolished. Okay, so I knew it was coming. I just didn't expect it to hit me so hard.

A house is just a thing. It is not a person. It is not irreplaceable. Losing a house is not a major catastrophe. But for some reason I am reacting like it is. Normally I like me. Just not this week.

We've got pills for everything else. Why don't we have 'act like an adult' medication? I'm sure some of you know someone else besides just me, who could use it.

5/21/10

The contractors started on the basement yesterday. Since the house has no electricity, they brought their own lights, but I couldn't figure out how to operate when I arrived late yesterday evening. All I could see was sheetrock had been pulled off two walls and studs were left standing.

My husband was impressed. The contractors asked to leave the back gate open and my husband had to explain that if our dogs got out, they weren't smart enough to come back home since they prefer to operate with the free-at-last, free-at-last game plan. There is some debate about whether or not they are bright enough to not play in traffic.

The contractors evaluated the problem, purchased a 4' x 8' piece of pressed board and created a barrier. The nice thing was we didn't even have to explain about their leaping tendencies. Child gates aren't high enough to hold them in. It's like their back legs are made of coiled springs and because their hair is long, it dances when they fly through the air, giving the impression that they are living life to the fullest. Kind of like when you were a kid and running just for the sake of running was fun.

PB and J have had control of the back yard since they were puppies. They know every inch of it. We've blocked holes under fences when they dug their way to freedom. We've got neighbors with dogs, chickens and llamas. All the animals know each other.

Our neighbor has daycare in her house and reported to us that one of her little charges assured her mother that we said it was okay for her to take one of the dogs home.

We've got plenty of chickens. She can have a chicken (or two), but I prefer to the keep the dogs as a matched set. After all, what is peanut butter without jelly?

5/18/10

For the first time the Insurance company isn't ahead of us. Either we've caught up or they're lagging behind. But things have slowed while we wait for them to act.

But while we are waiting for them to make a decision about asbestos abatement, we have made a good discovery. Our lead paint is only on our woodwork. Apparently all that wall paper saved the walls from having to be abated. I suppose this calls for a celebration.

Demolition will begin while we wait.

My husband is frantically planting cucumbers. He has taken on a food challenge. Another chef contacted him asking for 2000 pounds of pickling cucumbers. The planting has begun. Will we have cucumbers before we move back back in?

I watched the movie 'Up' last night. Good. Fun. I had no trouble suspending my disbelief as the balloon bundle rips the house off the foundation and an 8 year old boy steers the house to exactly where he needs to be in South America with a hand-held GPS. (In remarkably short time). Real frankly my GPS can't locate my own house, so finding a water fall in South America shouldn't be a problem.

The talking dogs were totally believable as they flew dogfighter aircraft, cooked gourmet meals and yet were easily distracted by a ball or the word 'squirrel'.

But I couldn't imagine an elderly man taking a child not just across state lines but across continents without parental consent. Where was Amber Alert? So the old man and the kid have an adventure, return home in a blimp, the kid gets his merit badge. Where are the kid's parents? The mother, a divorced single parent, is sitting in the audience while her child is alone on stage. The old man arrives late but in time to save the day.

Here's the shocker. No one arrests the old man.

And this was a movie I liked. No wonder I have trouble plotting a novel.

5/17/10

Biggest disappointment of the weekend. Those shoes that made me so happy last Thursday and Friday I've discovered aren't wearable. They don't smell like smoke or look like it, but when you take them off at night, you're feet are black from smoke residue being ground into your skin. Can this be healthy?

I took photos of the house this weekend, so when the construction is complete I will have before and after pictures. The contractors had the kitchen appliances removed and sent to testing. (smoke corrodes wiring). I'm sure other people move their appliances to clean behind (like the refrigerator, the dishwasher, the trash compactor), but I don't. The floor shows it.

Like many of the repairs done to the house, the floor smacks of do-it-yourself. The kitchen floor was laid after the cabinets were in. In one corner of the kitchen a cabinet was removed before we moved in and you can see the previous flooring. Under the dishwasher is sub floor.

I'm ready for the demolition. I'm tired of the voice in my head that makes me feel guilty because I am not cleaning the walls and floors. People will see. What will they think? Intellectually I know they will think there was a fire, but my unconscious reminds me every time I'm there, people will think you're a bad housekeeper.

Once the demolition begins, the true story of how much work will be required to right the house will emerge. Will the 2nd floor be destroyed or just cleaned, re-carpeted and repainted?

And when we are back in the house, will we ever feel safe again? Or will the threat of an uncontrollable disaster keep us awake nights?

I've been in two serious tornadoes, one fire and a couple of minor earthquakes. Some days I marvel that I'm able to get out of bed at all.

5/14/10

In The Beginning God Created...

Porta-potties? Probably not. But this is the first sign the work on our house is about to start. Like the red-breasted robin signifying spring, the blue honey bucket signifies workers are about to begin demolition. And what a delightful thing to have in the front yard.

Yesterday, shoes arrived from the dry cleaners. Shoes. Who knew I'd miss shoes so much?

I made them take back almost as much stuff as they brought. Tablecloths, linens, bedding and winter clothes, but I kept all the shoes. Based upon estimates I'm getting, it looks like we could be in this apartment about six or seven months. This feels like camping out. We have nothing on the walls and the furniture is rented. Everything is close together and kind of cramped.

I'm getting old. This wouldn't have bothered me several years ago.

When we traveled in Asia, stories were everywhere about how entire families lived in small apartments of no more than 500 square feet. They slept in shifts. Laundry hung on every balcony. It was a very common way of life.

My husband did a demo a few years ago where his class represented the world at the dinner table. Only 8% sat got a steak dinner, 92% of the class got vegetarian usually a combination of beans and rice. Some got oatmeal, some only got a piece of fruit. We forget how lucky we are.

And some (mentioning no names, please) like to be drama queens.

5/13/10

The restoration dry cleaners called and they would like to return our clothes. Sounds good, doesn't it? So for they've returned bedding, some tablecloths, some drapes, 8 boxes of clothes they couldn't clean, a butt-load of t-shirts and of course some personal items.

They have not returned shoes or the bulk of my clothes. Each day I wake up and say, "Should I wear black pants today?" And that answer is inevitably, "What a good idea. Going naked might be considered a bad idea."

Let's go back to why so many t-shirts. My husband wears t-shirts every day whether he's gardening or under his chef's uniform. Plus we grew up in the 60's and 70's. We have t-shirts from our past.

T-shirts that proclaim all-important words of wisdom, like, "I can't believe I forgot to have children." (Zero Population Growth, Paul Erlich, circa 1971 or possibly Women's Liberation Movement, I can't remember which cause I represented when I bought it).

We've set aside t-shirts that meant something to us and are going to have a quilt made. But as I sit here and think about it (while storing 13 large boxes of t-shirts), I have to ask. Where would I put a quilt like that? A 60's retro room? Would I have to get a black light and a Janis Joplin poster? A shag haircut? Going braless anymore won't work for me. Some times the past should just be the past. How is storing a box of t-shirts better than storing a box with a quilt?

5/12/10

The insurance company has agreed to pay for the tests for asbestos and lead paint. They have not agreed to pay for the abatement costs of cleaning it up. That requires studying our policy to see if we're covered. We are not covered for code upgrades. So if city/county inspectors come in and require my stairwell be widen to meet code, that will be on our dime.

Note to homeowners of older houses. Call your insurance. Ask. Do you have code coverage? Abatement coverage? I've always hated paying house insurance. You pay for years and years and years, never making a claim. Why? For the bank to be covered. Now that I am finally using the policy I wish I'd known more.

Our house sits on 1/2 acre in an unincorporated area between Portland and Beaverton. As a result, not only do we have chickens, we have a large backyard garden. My husband grows edible flowers, trick vegetables, lettuces, corn, squash, gourds, sugar snap peas, asparagus and potatoes. Just to name a few.

Our garage sits within 5 feet of the neighbor's fence. If we tear down the garage we can't rebuilt on the same slab. I serious doubt our neighbor cares, but the county would.

I can't imagine what possessed previous owners to build a flat roof detached garage and then not side it when they did the rest of the house. Tearing the garage down would improve the street value, but we will not tear it down. We will remodel. There a sentence you seldom hear - we spent last summer and a lot of money remodeling our garage. Lord knows, we want our cars to be happy. All houses have stories and many of us are grateful the walls can't talk.

5/10/10

Today we did it. We signed with a contractor. Both my husband and I feel a huge weight has been lifted from our shoulders. Now the testing begins. What problems lurk under the surface? When walls come down what will we finally see? Did smoke infiltrate the walls on the second floor? Will the second floor have to be taken down to studs?

People keep assuring me that I will love having a completely remodeled house, but will we lose the charm of an older home? The cove ceilings, the corner cabinets and/or the hard wood floors?

Okay, the good part is we will lose the chicken wallpaper in the kitchen and finally permanently fix the skylight that leaks in the upstairs bathroom. Each summer while I bite my nails, my husband and his father crawl up on the very steep roof and mend the skylight, which holds for about six months. And then one morning water is smattered on our dresser and we know once again the skylight needs work.

We want to be smart and know that we're making the best decisions, but with each choice comes both good and bad. We can't hold on to the past and adapt for the future. And nobody really likes change. Well, maybe after it's over, we do, but going through transition, whether physical or emotional, is hell.

5/9/10

Mother's Day

This is the first perfect weekend of the year. The sun is out. The weather is 70 degrees. The sky is so blue it hurts your eyes. My iris are in bloom. This is when I remember why I moved to Portland.

Here is the secret to loving Portland, OR. :

Visit in July, August or September. The weather is always perfect. The sun shines. The landscape is profuse. Wild blackberries grow everywhere. U-pick farms are abundant. Do you want Rainer cherries, apricots, peaches, blueberries? You name it and in the summer you can pick it. Or you can purchase it, and a hundred more exotic ingredients at every grocery store or at the neighborhood farmer's market.

Once you've visited in the summer you will never leave. You will endure 9 months of rain just for three months of perfection.

Becoming a Portlander means:

You will own an umbrella, maybe several umbrellas, but you will never use one.

You will never drink Maxwell House or Folger's coffee again.

You will drive a hybrid and will recycle each week.

You will get used to not pumping your own gas or paying sales tax.

You will get used to really good food - even the food carts can dazzle and surprise.

You will fight a losing a battle with slugs

You will fill each weekend with crawfish festivals, garlic festivals, microbrew festivals

You will live between the coast and the mountains

You will think it's heaven and that euphoria will carry you until March or April when you realize you're tired of the rain.

The day of the fire it rained. Rain saved our house. My husband went home early to let the dogs in. Fifteen minutes later, everything would have gone up in flames. It also rained the next day and the next and the next.

But today we celebrate because summer is only eight weeks away and while I am picking succulent fruits and vegetables and canning to replenish our cabinets, what will you be doing?

5/2/10

I'm on vacation. Where? My apartment. Today was the first day I didn't go by the house. I didn't smell the lingering smoke and I didn't look at the filthy floors and the smoke streaked walls and I didn't have to think about how my life had changed in slightly over a month.

We ate dim sum at a new restaurant and didn't discuss bamboo floors or on-demand water heaters or contractors. We talked about gardens and high school plays and the cool ceiling the restaurant had installed.

In my world, my job wasn't a problem, my house was fixed and my novel was published. Tomorrow reality will set in. But for today I'm living in a little pink bubble of illusion. If you want to visit me here, fine. Just don't bring a pin.