The framing continues and with every 2x4 that is added, I get a clearer picture of my new kitchen. I think it's going to be even bigger than I anticipated, which is very exciting.
I'm also getting a little taste of what it will be like when the guys are working inside. The driveway bumpout is small enough that the work noise really carries inside. I know it's hushed compared to what we'll be hearing soon.
The current plan is to move us out of the upstairs kitchen either between Christmas and New Year's, or just after New Years. We're going to salvage and donate the old cabinets, and do some sort of Formica/fluorescent light exorcism ceremony.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Mike the Tile Guru, it's time to prove yourself
If you were not a remodeling-induced hallucination, we'd be really happy to get a quote sometime soon.
If you were a hallucination, never mind.
If you were a hallucination, never mind.
Going vertical
Thanks to a few 2x4s and a worker who's not afraid of a little snow, I now have a MUCH better idea of what the big bumpout will look like. I can picture the window groupings, see that my desk will be just as big as Cathee and Nelson promised, and imagine us going in through the new back door. It's thrilling.
The space looks bigger to me now that we're going vertical. I told Cathee that and she said, "Well, it is eight by fourteen feet!"
Thanks to the 14" of snow on the ground plus 50 mph wind gusts, we're anticipating no work for the next day or two.
Meanwhile, though, we have finally ordered the windows. After getting revised quotes from Pella and Marvin based on standard sizes, the Architect Series windows ended up costing a bit less than Marvin. They also could be delivered in 2 weeks, rather than 3-4. So, we're back with Pella after all.
Naturally, everything we like is A) available but B) more expensive. The list includes satin nickel hardware, almond cladding to match our other windows, and more. But these windows are going to be here for a long time, so I think we'll be glad we splurged a bit.
We were able to cut costs by switching to standard sizes (always the intent) and in a couple of places, using two standard-width windows instead of three narrower ones.
So the only group of three windows is now the group by the kitchen sink. As Cathee explained, that's a window I'll be looking through very often, and with just two windows there, I'd be looking at the connection between the windows all the time. This way there is a window in the center.
We're still cooking up a storm while the upstairs kitchen is functional. Yesterday I learned that refrigerating Spritz cookie dough is a bad idea. It takes a long, long time for it to warm up enough to go through the cookie press.
In case you're in the mood to bake, here's my mom's recipe for the cookies:
Quick-Mix Spritz
The space looks bigger to me now that we're going vertical. I told Cathee that and she said, "Well, it is eight by fourteen feet!"
Thanks to the 14" of snow on the ground plus 50 mph wind gusts, we're anticipating no work for the next day or two.
Meanwhile, though, we have finally ordered the windows. After getting revised quotes from Pella and Marvin based on standard sizes, the Architect Series windows ended up costing a bit less than Marvin. They also could be delivered in 2 weeks, rather than 3-4. So, we're back with Pella after all.
Naturally, everything we like is A) available but B) more expensive. The list includes satin nickel hardware, almond cladding to match our other windows, and more. But these windows are going to be here for a long time, so I think we'll be glad we splurged a bit.
We were able to cut costs by switching to standard sizes (always the intent) and in a couple of places, using two standard-width windows instead of three narrower ones.
So the only group of three windows is now the group by the kitchen sink. As Cathee explained, that's a window I'll be looking through very often, and with just two windows there, I'd be looking at the connection between the windows all the time. This way there is a window in the center.
We're still cooking up a storm while the upstairs kitchen is functional. Yesterday I learned that refrigerating Spritz cookie dough is a bad idea. It takes a long, long time for it to warm up enough to go through the cookie press.
In case you're in the mood to bake, here's my mom's recipe for the cookies:
Quick-Mix Spritz
2 1/4 C. flour
3/4 C. sugar
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. baking powder
1 C. shortening
1 egg
1 tsp. vanilla
1. Sift flour, sugar, salt and baking powder together in a bowl.
2. With a pastry blender, cut the shortening into the dry ingredients until the mixture is full of very fine lumps. It will resemble pie crust or biscuit mix, although not as coarse.
3. Measure the egg in a measuring cup. A large egg will measure 1/4 C. If it does not, add water to the 1/4 C. line.
4. Add the egg and vanilla and beat the mixture very well.
5. Fill cookie press and form cookies on ungreased cookie sheets.
6. Bake 10-12 minutes at 375 degrees.
7. Remove at once to cooking racks! If you wait, cookies are hard to remove without breaking them.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
FOUND: My very own tile guru!
I've been searching, and searching, for tile that matches the front entryway. Yes, I know I mentioned one option found online -- but the color (brownish) and material (travertine) didn't match the original.
I've driven to more far-flung tile showrooms than I care to remember, and shown countless people a photo of our entryway tile, as if it were a lost child. And I've been met with blank stares, rueful head shakes, and suggestions to check with architectural salvage places (which I already have, in Des Moines and Chicago).
Finally, a salesman at a remote Flooring Gallery somewhere between here and Minneapolis took pity on me and my "Have You Seen This Floor?" photo. Maybe I looked wild-eyed and desperate, or maybe I bolstered my karma by donating those anti-viral wipes to Anna's school. Anyway, the salesman looked me in the eye and said, "I don't know. But I know who does know. You need to talk to Mike. He works for our parent company, and he knows everything about tile."
Later that same day, as if by magic, Mike the Tile Guru appeared at my front door for an in-person tile consultation. It took him all of sixty seconds to tell me what company made our tile, what it's made of (clay, also known as quarry tile), what minerals were used to create the brick-red color, and where I could find a near-exact replica--within my budget.
It was like a tile miracle, or Tile Santa, or something. It was so astonishing that part of me is worried he was a remodeling-induced hallucination. What if I call Flooring Gallery back and they say, "Mike? Mike who? We don't know anything about an omniscient tile guru named Mike!"
If that does happen, I have bigger issues than where to find the right tile.
I've driven to more far-flung tile showrooms than I care to remember, and shown countless people a photo of our entryway tile, as if it were a lost child. And I've been met with blank stares, rueful head shakes, and suggestions to check with architectural salvage places (which I already have, in Des Moines and Chicago).
Finally, a salesman at a remote Flooring Gallery somewhere between here and Minneapolis took pity on me and my "Have You Seen This Floor?" photo. Maybe I looked wild-eyed and desperate, or maybe I bolstered my karma by donating those anti-viral wipes to Anna's school. Anyway, the salesman looked me in the eye and said, "I don't know. But I know who does know. You need to talk to Mike. He works for our parent company, and he knows everything about tile."
Later that same day, as if by magic, Mike the Tile Guru appeared at my front door for an in-person tile consultation. It took him all of sixty seconds to tell me what company made our tile, what it's made of (clay, also known as quarry tile), what minerals were used to create the brick-red color, and where I could find a near-exact replica--within my budget.
It was like a tile miracle, or Tile Santa, or something. It was so astonishing that part of me is worried he was a remodeling-induced hallucination. What if I call Flooring Gallery back and they say, "Mike? Mike who? We don't know anything about an omniscient tile guru named Mike!"
If that does happen, I have bigger issues than where to find the right tile.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Everything you wanted to know about window prices*
*But were afraid to ask.
We received more detailed pricing information from the Pella people today, and learned that the incredibly expensive windows cost so much because they were one inch narrower than Pella's smallest normal size -- 20" instead of 21".
That inch required them to quote their ultra-custom, super-expensive, Oprah's-house-in-Hawaii level of windows, instead of their normal custom, very expensive windows. (Who knows what brand Oprah really has, but you get the point.)
I understand why they have upcharges for custom sizes. But for the life of me, I can' t figure out why, when sending us the first bid, they didn't point out, "If you make these windows an inch wider, you won't need federal bailout funds to build your addition." It's not as though we need these windows to fit any existing openings -- they are going into new walls.
Instead, they waited for us to ask the question, then gave us the information. It leaves kind of a bad taste in my mouth.
Nelson has had great experiences with Marvin windows and has used them extensively. They have ogees, spoon hardware (aka locks that look old-fashioned) and come in 60/40 double hungs. It will be interesting to see how the quote comes in, and what we decide.
In the meantime, if you're buying windows, ask a lot of questions before you buy. And unless you have Oprah's budget, stay away from double-hungs that are 20" or narrower.
We received more detailed pricing information from the Pella people today, and learned that the incredibly expensive windows cost so much because they were one inch narrower than Pella's smallest normal size -- 20" instead of 21".
That inch required them to quote their ultra-custom, super-expensive, Oprah's-house-in-Hawaii level of windows, instead of their normal custom, very expensive windows. (Who knows what brand Oprah really has, but you get the point.)
I understand why they have upcharges for custom sizes. But for the life of me, I can' t figure out why, when sending us the first bid, they didn't point out, "If you make these windows an inch wider, you won't need federal bailout funds to build your addition." It's not as though we need these windows to fit any existing openings -- they are going into new walls.
Instead, they waited for us to ask the question, then gave us the information. It leaves kind of a bad taste in my mouth.
Nelson has had great experiences with Marvin windows and has used them extensively. They have ogees, spoon hardware (aka locks that look old-fashioned) and come in 60/40 double hungs. It will be interesting to see how the quote comes in, and what we decide.
In the meantime, if you're buying windows, ask a lot of questions before you buy. And unless you have Oprah's budget, stay away from double-hungs that are 20" or narrower.
Friday, November 13, 2009
The bricks are back!
The masons had a gorgeous, sunny day on Wednesday and got all the brick laid. It went back remarkably quickly and looks amazing! I'm so glad we were able to reuse it. It was a labor-intensive process, but the result is so worth it. They are putting plates on the foundations today, whatever those are, and plan to start framing on Monday.
Meanwhile, we've reached a critical decision point on the windows. We got our estimates, and the Architect Series bid (the more historically accurate windows with ogees, old-fashioned hardware, etc.) came in at almost twice the cost of the ProLine windows. We have ten new windows total, so it's a huge difference.
We also learned that uneven double-hungs (the bottom sash is larger than the top sash) are not available in ProLine--a detail we were planning for two of the window groupings. It doesn't work to mix the window brands (the appearances vary too much) so we have to pick a brand and live with it.
I wish I knew how we'd feel about it when we were finished. I don't want to think, every time I look through a window, "Well, that was a bad call. We should have scrimped somewhere else so we could have gotten the Architect Series windows." Neither do I want to go way over budget on a single item, not knowing what potentially costly surprises might be lurking in this old house.
It comes down to this: How do you make the call between doing what's right for the house, and what's right for the budget? And if I do splurge on the Architect Series windows, what am I willing to cut back on? Lighting? Counters?
Your suggestions, comments and ideas are welcome...this one has to be decided sooner rather than later.
Meanwhile, we've reached a critical decision point on the windows. We got our estimates, and the Architect Series bid (the more historically accurate windows with ogees, old-fashioned hardware, etc.) came in at almost twice the cost of the ProLine windows. We have ten new windows total, so it's a huge difference.
We also learned that uneven double-hungs (the bottom sash is larger than the top sash) are not available in ProLine--a detail we were planning for two of the window groupings. It doesn't work to mix the window brands (the appearances vary too much) so we have to pick a brand and live with it.
I wish I knew how we'd feel about it when we were finished. I don't want to think, every time I look through a window, "Well, that was a bad call. We should have scrimped somewhere else so we could have gotten the Architect Series windows." Neither do I want to go way over budget on a single item, not knowing what potentially costly surprises might be lurking in this old house.
It comes down to this: How do you make the call between doing what's right for the house, and what's right for the budget? And if I do splurge on the Architect Series windows, what am I willing to cut back on? Lighting? Counters?
Your suggestions, comments and ideas are welcome...this one has to be decided sooner rather than later.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Leap of faith
The foundations have been poured and are now curing in weather far nicer than they have any right to expect: It's supposed to be 70 today!
Looking at the rough outlines of the two new additions, and trying to envision what they'll look like when they are finished and filled with cabinets, a desk, backpacks and coats, I'm struck again by what a leap of faith this whole process is, in large part because of my lack of 3-D vision.
Don't get me wrong: we've been lucky enough to find some extremely skilled people to take on our house. I have all kinds of confidence in Cathee, Nelson, and crew. But no matter how great everyone is, it still takes a lot of guts to cut a couple of holes in a 70-year-old house.
When looking at the two foundations, I keep changing my mind from "that looks big" to "that looks small" to "I sure hope that will be a good size when we're living in it."
My overall hope is that when the project is finished, both additions will look as though they have always been there ... as if some very foresighted architect had realized in 1939 that we'd want room for a home office and an island in the kitchen, and also that we'd need to store more coats than anyone would anticipate for a family of four.
Next up: The salavaged brick will be laid around the bottom of each little foundation. I think Nelson said there will be three or four rows of brick, to help tie in the additions with the house. Then comes the framing, which is what we're all longing to see.
Until I can really see it, I'm just going to have to take it all on faith.
Looking at the rough outlines of the two new additions, and trying to envision what they'll look like when they are finished and filled with cabinets, a desk, backpacks and coats, I'm struck again by what a leap of faith this whole process is, in large part because of my lack of 3-D vision.
Don't get me wrong: we've been lucky enough to find some extremely skilled people to take on our house. I have all kinds of confidence in Cathee, Nelson, and crew. But no matter how great everyone is, it still takes a lot of guts to cut a couple of holes in a 70-year-old house.
When looking at the two foundations, I keep changing my mind from "that looks big" to "that looks small" to "I sure hope that will be a good size when we're living in it."
My overall hope is that when the project is finished, both additions will look as though they have always been there ... as if some very foresighted architect had realized in 1939 that we'd want room for a home office and an island in the kitchen, and also that we'd need to store more coats than anyone would anticipate for a family of four.
Next up: The salavaged brick will be laid around the bottom of each little foundation. I think Nelson said there will be three or four rows of brick, to help tie in the additions with the house. Then comes the framing, which is what we're all longing to see.
Until I can really see it, I'm just going to have to take it all on faith.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Rain, rain, go away
Come again some other day, like when they are working inside the house!
No progress today--the rain never stopped. But yesterday the guys were here from 7 a.m. until after 5 p.m., building forms for the footings. I'm hoping for good weather so they can be back tomorrow. I'm looking forward to the return of the cement truck!
Until you see all the work that's needed to build a good foundation, you might never give it a thought. It's interesting to see how much work it takes to create something that will last.
I had a nice break from the gray, dreary day when Doyle and I visited the Majestic Lion antique store over lunch to look at lights. We didn't find anything we wanted, but we were able to narrow the field considerably. Next, we're heading back to the architectural salvage store, where Judy and I found some possibilities on Tuesday.
It may feel like things are moving slowly, but we're getting there--drip by drip.
No progress today--the rain never stopped. But yesterday the guys were here from 7 a.m. until after 5 p.m., building forms for the footings. I'm hoping for good weather so they can be back tomorrow. I'm looking forward to the return of the cement truck!
Until you see all the work that's needed to build a good foundation, you might never give it a thought. It's interesting to see how much work it takes to create something that will last.
I had a nice break from the gray, dreary day when Doyle and I visited the Majestic Lion antique store over lunch to look at lights. We didn't find anything we wanted, but we were able to narrow the field considerably. Next, we're heading back to the architectural salvage store, where Judy and I found some possibilities on Tuesday.
It may feel like things are moving slowly, but we're getting there--drip by drip.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Pour it on
There's a new player on the scene: A concrete truck is whirring away on Allison Avenue as I write. A nifty little motorized wheelbarrow of some sort is making trips up and down the driveway, transporting the concrete to the two holes. Steve, Tom and Chad are working to pour a 6" layer of concrete (if I heard them correctly), upon which the footings will rest.
I'm relieved that the big truck didn't need to come on the driveway, and surprisingly excited to see something besides digging going on. It's not anything we'll ever look at once the job is finished, but it means that on the outside of the house, we're done taking things away (porch, bricks, dirt) and have started putting new things in. And that's a good feeling.
For those of you who think this process seems to be taking a long time, it feels that way to us, too. But we're happy with the work that has been done so far. And we hope that things will move more quickly once the foundations are in place.
I really can't wait to see the framing go up so I can begin to see those two spaces. I can't look at a blueprint and think in three dimensions very well. It reminds me of those standardized test questions showing a flattened, irregularly shaped drawing that was supposed to fold up into a geometric shape of some sort. I never could tell exactly what it was supposed to become.
With this project, I'm putting my faith in the people who can look at a piece of paper and envision three dimensions. And I really, really hope they all know what they are doing.
I'm relieved that the big truck didn't need to come on the driveway, and surprisingly excited to see something besides digging going on. It's not anything we'll ever look at once the job is finished, but it means that on the outside of the house, we're done taking things away (porch, bricks, dirt) and have started putting new things in. And that's a good feeling.
For those of you who think this process seems to be taking a long time, it feels that way to us, too. But we're happy with the work that has been done so far. And we hope that things will move more quickly once the foundations are in place.
I really can't wait to see the framing go up so I can begin to see those two spaces. I can't look at a blueprint and think in three dimensions very well. It reminds me of those standardized test questions showing a flattened, irregularly shaped drawing that was supposed to fold up into a geometric shape of some sort. I never could tell exactly what it was supposed to become.
With this project, I'm putting my faith in the people who can look at a piece of paper and envision three dimensions. And I really, really hope they all know what they are doing.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
The singing kitchen
I sing a lot when I'm home alone. There's nothing like belting out "Taylor, the Latte Boy" or "The Wizard and I" when there's no one to hear you. But lately, I've been hearing songs from my kitchen without any effort on my part.
This morning, while I was waking Anna up in the pitch dark at 7:30 (can't wait for the end of Daylight Savings Time), I heard music and voices. The noise sounded like it was coming through the vent by her bed. I hypothesized that Doyle or Will had left a TV on downstairs, but it sounded more like a radio.
Which is exactly what it was. Steve Hawbaker was here, working under a tarp to dig the foundation for the driveway bump-out, with a quiet radio for company. I hadn't even heard him drive up; the barely audible radio was the only indication of his presence. What a cold, miserable day to be working outside! He was joined around 9 a.m. by his brother Tom. I'm grateful to both of them for being here on a day like this.
The second musical event concerns Doyle's Illini bottle opener, which is still in a drawer in the upstairs kitchen. Using the opener causes it to play a jaunty version of the Illinois Fight Song, culminating in people cheering, "Gooooooo ILLINI!" Apparently, vibrations from the work have the same effect as opening a bottle. So, once in a while and for no apparent reason, I'll start to hear a muffled fight song coming from the drawer, as if the spatulas were taking on the measuring spoons in a hard-fought game of utensil football.
And from the sounds of it, whichever team the Illini bottle opener is rooting for is way ahead.
This morning, while I was waking Anna up in the pitch dark at 7:30 (can't wait for the end of Daylight Savings Time), I heard music and voices. The noise sounded like it was coming through the vent by her bed. I hypothesized that Doyle or Will had left a TV on downstairs, but it sounded more like a radio.
Which is exactly what it was. Steve Hawbaker was here, working under a tarp to dig the foundation for the driveway bump-out, with a quiet radio for company. I hadn't even heard him drive up; the barely audible radio was the only indication of his presence. What a cold, miserable day to be working outside! He was joined around 9 a.m. by his brother Tom. I'm grateful to both of them for being here on a day like this.
The second musical event concerns Doyle's Illini bottle opener, which is still in a drawer in the upstairs kitchen. Using the opener causes it to play a jaunty version of the Illinois Fight Song, culminating in people cheering, "Gooooooo ILLINI!" Apparently, vibrations from the work have the same effect as opening a bottle. So, once in a while and for no apparent reason, I'll start to hear a muffled fight song coming from the drawer, as if the spatulas were taking on the measuring spoons in a hard-fought game of utensil football.
And from the sounds of it, whichever team the Illini bottle opener is rooting for is way ahead.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Whatcha got cooking?
A quick update for today: Since our upstairs kitchen is still functional, I'm trying to cook as often as possible now. On today's menu: Chocolate-marbled banana bread and turkey rice soup.
They both look delicious, and I feel so thrifty. The turkey came from a turkey breast carcass I'd shoved in the freezer a few weeks ago after we ate most of it for dinner.
There's nothing like the smell of something simmering and something baking at the same time. Mmmm ...
In the mood to bake? Here's a link to the banana bread recipe. It's from Cooking Light, via my friend Allison:
http://find.myrecipes.com/recipes/recipefinder.dyn?action=displayRecipe&recipe_id=549763
(I usually bake it for an hour, not an hour and 15 minutes. I've also substituted light sour cream for the yogurt on occasion.)
They both look delicious, and I feel so thrifty. The turkey came from a turkey breast carcass I'd shoved in the freezer a few weeks ago after we ate most of it for dinner.
There's nothing like the smell of something simmering and something baking at the same time. Mmmm ...
In the mood to bake? Here's a link to the banana bread recipe. It's from Cooking Light, via my friend Allison:
http://find.myrecipes.com/recipes/recipefinder.dyn?action=displayRecipe&recipe_id=549763
(I usually bake it for an hour, not an hour and 15 minutes. I've also substituted light sour cream for the yogurt on occasion.)
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Lukewarm feet
I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later: I've developed a case of lukewarm feet.
I know the kitchen will be great when it's finished. I know we need more space. I'm already tired of having my work space in the living room (whenever someone comes to the front door, it feels as though they are peeking into my cubicle--I've gotten used to more privacy at the back of the house).
But despite all that, I've had fleeting thoughts of, "Is this all really necessary?"
I've even envisioned having all the brick re-laid and going back to Square One: a badly designed 90's kitchen with icky cabinets, chipped laminate, and the worst traffic flow West of the Mississippi.
But the brick is off, the die has been cast, and I know it will be worth it when it's all over, whenever that may be.
Until then, I'm going to keep blogging and look forward to the end of my lukewarm feet.
I know the kitchen will be great when it's finished. I know we need more space. I'm already tired of having my work space in the living room (whenever someone comes to the front door, it feels as though they are peeking into my cubicle--I've gotten used to more privacy at the back of the house).
But despite all that, I've had fleeting thoughts of, "Is this all really necessary?"
I've even envisioned having all the brick re-laid and going back to Square One: a badly designed 90's kitchen with icky cabinets, chipped laminate, and the worst traffic flow West of the Mississippi.
But the brick is off, the die has been cast, and I know it will be worth it when it's all over, whenever that may be.
Until then, I'm going to keep blogging and look forward to the end of my lukewarm feet.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Walter Gilbert, my hero
The past few weeks have included a brief scare, a surprisingly easy resolution, and attainment of our first big goal: a building permit from the city.
The scare happened when Nelson went in the first time to get a permit. He was shot down on several fronts, which I've heard is typical, but which was still unnerving to us novices.
The most worrisome situation was the inspector's comment that we couldn't add one step to the basement stairs, necessary to get the back entry up off ground level, without bringing all the stairs up to code. Also, we had to make sure there was a certain amount of headroom all along the stairs -- I believe the standard is 6' 6".
Can you imagine tearing out all the stairs from a finished basement with a very small landing at the bottom, and re-building them? (Where would you put them?) Or trying to find additional headroom for stairs that are situated under OTHER stairs? It sounded like a problem that would eventually unravel our entire house, like a giant sweater.
Fortunately, Cathee, our architect, swooped over with a tape measure and encouraging words. (There's a great deal to be said for an architect who's not only amazing at what she does, but also calls you "Hon" just when you need to hear it the most.)
She immediately confirmed her previous discovery that the stairs were ALREADY UP TO CODE, and there was ALREADY ENOUGH HEAD ROOM, something of a rarity for basement stairs in houses this age. And for that, we have Walter Gilbert to thank.
Walter was a homebuilder in Des Moines in the 1930s and 40s. In 1939, he built our house for his own family, and lived there with his wife, Hilda, until he sold it after her death in the 1950s. (What? Don't you read your abstract?)
Anyway, Walter used our basement family room (now home to Will's Beatles Rock Band parties) for his office. That explains why we have daylight windows, extra-nice knotty pine paneling (with dentil molding, believe it or not) and stairs that meet code, even in 2009. (It may also have something to do with the nifty automatic light in the front entry closet.)
So after Cathee did a whole lot of additional drawings and elevations and Nelson jumped through a few more hoops, we are now the proud owners of an official building permit. (Actually, it's our second permit -- we also got one for the basement kitchen.)
Next up: digging holes and pouring footings for two new foundations. The holes are underway, and I'll post a picture soon.
Meanwhile, the upstairs kitchen is still fully functional, and will be until the two additions are framed up and sealed. That's when we'll experience full-scale demolition inside the house--but not until then. As Nelson said, "I'm not going to ruin your life until I have to."
P.S. A special thank-you and shout-out to neighbor Kathy, who was most reassuring during the permit scare, and the several friends who prodded me to write another entry--I know it's been a while. As Lynn said, "I am tired of ogees!"
The scare happened when Nelson went in the first time to get a permit. He was shot down on several fronts, which I've heard is typical, but which was still unnerving to us novices.
The most worrisome situation was the inspector's comment that we couldn't add one step to the basement stairs, necessary to get the back entry up off ground level, without bringing all the stairs up to code. Also, we had to make sure there was a certain amount of headroom all along the stairs -- I believe the standard is 6' 6".
Can you imagine tearing out all the stairs from a finished basement with a very small landing at the bottom, and re-building them? (Where would you put them?) Or trying to find additional headroom for stairs that are situated under OTHER stairs? It sounded like a problem that would eventually unravel our entire house, like a giant sweater.
Fortunately, Cathee, our architect, swooped over with a tape measure and encouraging words. (There's a great deal to be said for an architect who's not only amazing at what she does, but also calls you "Hon" just when you need to hear it the most.)
She immediately confirmed her previous discovery that the stairs were ALREADY UP TO CODE, and there was ALREADY ENOUGH HEAD ROOM, something of a rarity for basement stairs in houses this age. And for that, we have Walter Gilbert to thank.
Walter was a homebuilder in Des Moines in the 1930s and 40s. In 1939, he built our house for his own family, and lived there with his wife, Hilda, until he sold it after her death in the 1950s. (What? Don't you read your abstract?)
Anyway, Walter used our basement family room (now home to Will's Beatles Rock Band parties) for his office. That explains why we have daylight windows, extra-nice knotty pine paneling (with dentil molding, believe it or not) and stairs that meet code, even in 2009. (It may also have something to do with the nifty automatic light in the front entry closet.)
So after Cathee did a whole lot of additional drawings and elevations and Nelson jumped through a few more hoops, we are now the proud owners of an official building permit. (Actually, it's our second permit -- we also got one for the basement kitchen.)
Next up: digging holes and pouring footings for two new foundations. The holes are underway, and I'll post a picture soon.
Meanwhile, the upstairs kitchen is still fully functional, and will be until the two additions are framed up and sealed. That's when we'll experience full-scale demolition inside the house--but not until then. As Nelson said, "I'm not going to ruin your life until I have to."
P.S. A special thank-you and shout-out to neighbor Kathy, who was most reassuring during the permit scare, and the several friends who prodded me to write another entry--I know it's been a while. As Lynn said, "I am tired of ogees!"
Saturday, September 26, 2009
The ogee and me
Have you ever noticed that when you buy a car, you immediately begin to notice the same model everywhere you go?
That's exactly what has happened to me and ogee (pronounced ō-ˌjē) moldings.
Ogee moldings, or edges, have a combination of curves that form a graceful, elongated S-shape. Furniture trim often has ogee edges, and so do some countertops. (I've tried to find a diagram I could post, but can't--but you can visit http://www.answers.com/topic/ogee to see one.)
Now that I'm thinking about my house in a whole new level of detail, I'm suddenly spotting ogee this and ogee that everywhere I look: in the recessed panels of my doors, in my crown moldings, even in my window frames. My new kitchen cabinets will have recessed panels with ogee edges. The support brackets under the island, where the counter overhangs, may have ogee curves too.
Because of my new obsession, Doyle and I went to look at windows today. I spent the 1990s writing about Pella windows and still have friends in that business, so I am loyal to the Pella brand.
Our window allowance covers Pella ProLine windows, which are very energy-efficient and can have muntins, or grilles, on both the inside and outside of the window. There is a squared edge where the wood meets the glass.
In contrast, Pella Architect Series windows are designed to look like the windows my house was built with. Not only do they successfully imitate the look of many small pieces of glass (also known as true divided light), each sash has an ogee, rather than squared, edge.
That curve might sound like a small detail, but the difference is readily apparent when you look at the windows side by side. Which is why the helpful displays at the Pella Window Store make it so easy to do just that.
Like any upgrade, this one would have a price. And the cost in this case is enough to make you say "Oh, geez!"
Thanks for staying with me long enough to get that.
That's exactly what has happened to me and ogee (pronounced ō-ˌjē) moldings.
Ogee moldings, or edges, have a combination of curves that form a graceful, elongated S-shape. Furniture trim often has ogee edges, and so do some countertops. (I've tried to find a diagram I could post, but can't--but you can visit http://www.answers.com/topic/ogee to see one.)
Now that I'm thinking about my house in a whole new level of detail, I'm suddenly spotting ogee this and ogee that everywhere I look: in the recessed panels of my doors, in my crown moldings, even in my window frames. My new kitchen cabinets will have recessed panels with ogee edges. The support brackets under the island, where the counter overhangs, may have ogee curves too.
Because of my new obsession, Doyle and I went to look at windows today. I spent the 1990s writing about Pella windows and still have friends in that business, so I am loyal to the Pella brand.
Our window allowance covers Pella ProLine windows, which are very energy-efficient and can have muntins, or grilles, on both the inside and outside of the window. There is a squared edge where the wood meets the glass.
In contrast, Pella Architect Series windows are designed to look like the windows my house was built with. Not only do they successfully imitate the look of many small pieces of glass (also known as true divided light), each sash has an ogee, rather than squared, edge.
That curve might sound like a small detail, but the difference is readily apparent when you look at the windows side by side. Which is why the helpful displays at the Pella Window Store make it so easy to do just that.
Like any upgrade, this one would have a price. And the cost in this case is enough to make you say "Oh, geez!"
Thanks for staying with me long enough to get that.
By the way, nowhere in Merriam-Webster.com is extra expense mentioned:
Main Entry: ogee
Variant(s): also OG \ˈō-ˌjē\
Main Entry: ogee
Variant(s): also OG \ˈō-ˌjē\
Function: noun
Etymology: obsolete English ogee ogive; from the use of such moldings in ogives
Date: 1677
1 : a molding with an S-shaped profile
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Life gets lush
My favorite cartoonist, Roz Chast, has a cartoon entitled "Life gets lush." If I could find it online I'd post it here -- alas. Anyway, my sister Tracy and I reference it whenever there is an unexpected abundance of good things happening.
On Monday, life got lush around here. Doyle and I had scheduled a meeting with our architect, Cathee, to talk about some revisions to the plans she created for us more than a year ago. While she was here, our contractor, Nelson, stopped by. They were able to meet each other for the first time and talk through some issues that were way over my head. It was completely serendipitous and very reassuring to have them both here at the same time.
The plan is really coming together, too. By adding 2.5 feet to the office addition, we may even have found room for a coat closet by the back entry--a previously unattainable goal. I will be thrilled if it works out.
Even though Doyle had to leave on a work trip that afternoon, good things continued to happen. I found a herringbone mosaic tile that will be beautiful for the back entry floor--and it was on clearance! Will and Anna did their homework without any bickering. Dave came over twice to mud the basement drywall (it's painted and I hope to have pictures with the cabinets soon!). Anna went to her soccer clinic without any complaints about the shin guards bumping her knee scab, and Will and I had a nice dinner out after his drum lesson. And at bedtime, Anna decided to read me a story from the new Bible she just received at Plymouth.
It was one small, good thing after another, all day long, reminding me over and over how incredibly fortunate I am. It was a day I'll need to remember on the days when things aren't going so well. I know they're out there. But for now, I'm still savoring the way it feels when life gets lush.
On Monday, life got lush around here. Doyle and I had scheduled a meeting with our architect, Cathee, to talk about some revisions to the plans she created for us more than a year ago. While she was here, our contractor, Nelson, stopped by. They were able to meet each other for the first time and talk through some issues that were way over my head. It was completely serendipitous and very reassuring to have them both here at the same time.
The plan is really coming together, too. By adding 2.5 feet to the office addition, we may even have found room for a coat closet by the back entry--a previously unattainable goal. I will be thrilled if it works out.
Even though Doyle had to leave on a work trip that afternoon, good things continued to happen. I found a herringbone mosaic tile that will be beautiful for the back entry floor--and it was on clearance! Will and Anna did their homework without any bickering. Dave came over twice to mud the basement drywall (it's painted and I hope to have pictures with the cabinets soon!). Anna went to her soccer clinic without any complaints about the shin guards bumping her knee scab, and Will and I had a nice dinner out after his drum lesson. And at bedtime, Anna decided to read me a story from the new Bible she just received at Plymouth.
It was one small, good thing after another, all day long, reminding me over and over how incredibly fortunate I am. It was a day I'll need to remember on the days when things aren't going so well. I know they're out there. But for now, I'm still savoring the way it feels when life gets lush.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Leader of the pack
I've been packing, packing, packing this past week. I'm trying to safely store everything we can live without for the next few months.
I also emptied the dining room cabinets of china, crystal and vases. For the duration, they'll house daily necessities including Cheerios, granola bars, and a staggering assortment of band-aids and leg wraps (Anna is the undisputed skinned-knee champion). It is an interesting look, with all those everyday items showcased behind glass doors.
Throughout this tedious process, I keep thinking about the nice woman who rang me up at Staples the other day. When I told her why I was buying a roll of bubble wrap big enough to use as an end table, she said, "Just think about how much fun it will be when you get to unpack everything!"
She's so right. It will be wonderful to take it all out again.
So good-bye for now, wedding china, novelty muffin pans, Grandma's tea set, fragile wineglasses, second-tier utensils. See you on the other side.
I also emptied the dining room cabinets of china, crystal and vases. For the duration, they'll house daily necessities including Cheerios, granola bars, and a staggering assortment of band-aids and leg wraps (Anna is the undisputed skinned-knee champion). It is an interesting look, with all those everyday items showcased behind glass doors.
Throughout this tedious process, I keep thinking about the nice woman who rang me up at Staples the other day. When I told her why I was buying a roll of bubble wrap big enough to use as an end table, she said, "Just think about how much fun it will be when you get to unpack everything!"
She's so right. It will be wonderful to take it all out again.
So good-bye for now, wedding china, novelty muffin pans, Grandma's tea set, fragile wineglasses, second-tier utensils. See you on the other side.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Times two
The most costly phrase in the English language has to be "As long as we're at it." Suddenly, we find ourselves saying it all the time.
Applied to a kitchen remodel, those six little words can have enormous consequences. And in our case, it has brought us to this: We are expecting not one new kitchen, but two.
It's twins!
It all started with a plan to relocate our range and refrigerator to the basement laundry room for the duration. I've lived through one previous kitchen renovation with the fridge in the dining room, and while it's undeniably handy to get out a gallon of milk without leaving your seat at the table, we are hoping for a slightly more upscale experience this time.
So we decided on a zoned approach: Breakfast in the dining room, so as to avoid disturbing the workers; dinner in the family room, which is in the basement. We bought a mini-fridge for the dining room, for milk, juice, yogurt, and champagne for mimosas. (Just kidding about the champagne. For now, anyway.)
Things went downhill on a trip to Home Depot (and what remodeler hasn't said that?) when we discovered a cabinet display on clearance. Eight feet of white upper and lower cabinets, a stainless-steel sink and faucet, and even a counter, all for a price that could only be called recession-tastic. It seemed like a no-brainer.
"As long as we're putting the fridge and stove down there, it would be great to have some cabinets ... and a sink ... and a disposer," I said.
Our friends John and David contributed the truck, and the manpower, to get the whole thing home. It took two trips, and we rewarded them with a skimpy selection of pizza for dinner. We owe you, guys. Big time.
Then Doyle and Will got to work and ripped out the dilapidated old cabinets, Dave built a wall, and yesterday the plumbing and electrical were roughed in. The goal is to have the basement kitchen installed before the upstairs kitchen is demolished.
All this would have been more than expensive enough. But then came this thought: As long as we're moving the range to the basement kitchen, why not let it stay there as an extra oven for holiday dinners? And teens requiring Totino's Pizza Rolls? And just get a new one for upstairs?
And as long we're getting a new range for upstairs, why not get a dual-fuel slide-in model? Only 30" wide -- so we'll still have room for a cabinet and counter on either side. But still, it's money we didn't anticipate spending when this process started.
Which is, I guess, the nature of the beast. Especially when you're expecting times two.
Applied to a kitchen remodel, those six little words can have enormous consequences. And in our case, it has brought us to this: We are expecting not one new kitchen, but two.
It's twins!
It all started with a plan to relocate our range and refrigerator to the basement laundry room for the duration. I've lived through one previous kitchen renovation with the fridge in the dining room, and while it's undeniably handy to get out a gallon of milk without leaving your seat at the table, we are hoping for a slightly more upscale experience this time.
So we decided on a zoned approach: Breakfast in the dining room, so as to avoid disturbing the workers; dinner in the family room, which is in the basement. We bought a mini-fridge for the dining room, for milk, juice, yogurt, and champagne for mimosas. (Just kidding about the champagne. For now, anyway.)
Things went downhill on a trip to Home Depot (and what remodeler hasn't said that?) when we discovered a cabinet display on clearance. Eight feet of white upper and lower cabinets, a stainless-steel sink and faucet, and even a counter, all for a price that could only be called recession-tastic. It seemed like a no-brainer.
"As long as we're putting the fridge and stove down there, it would be great to have some cabinets ... and a sink ... and a disposer," I said.
Our friends John and David contributed the truck, and the manpower, to get the whole thing home. It took two trips, and we rewarded them with a skimpy selection of pizza for dinner. We owe you, guys. Big time.
Then Doyle and Will got to work and ripped out the dilapidated old cabinets, Dave built a wall, and yesterday the plumbing and electrical were roughed in. The goal is to have the basement kitchen installed before the upstairs kitchen is demolished.
All this would have been more than expensive enough. But then came this thought: As long as we're moving the range to the basement kitchen, why not let it stay there as an extra oven for holiday dinners? And teens requiring Totino's Pizza Rolls? And just get a new one for upstairs?
And as long we're getting a new range for upstairs, why not get a dual-fuel slide-in model? Only 30" wide -- so we'll still have room for a cabinet and counter on either side. But still, it's money we didn't anticipate spending when this process started.
Which is, I guess, the nature of the beast. Especially when you're expecting times two.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Let the games begin!
It all starts today: the long-awaited Rood-Karr kitchen renovation. As I begin this blog, siding, windows and storm doors are being removed from our leaky back porch, soon to be demolished.
Our house is a Tudor Revival style, built in 1939 by builder Walter Gilbert for his own family. We admired it for years, and have owned it since June of 2000. During those years, we've lived with a kitchen so dysfunctional it deserves its own reality show. The previous owners confided, "We redid the kitchen, but we've never liked it." Our architect's sober diagnosis: "You have a severely fragmented work triangle."
During the next several months, brick walls will be breached, and the bricks salvaged. Faulty plumbing will be given its first-ever opportunity to vent. Awkward contemporary oak-n-walnut cabinets will be replaced with traditional white, and chipped, burned laminate counters with something else (at the very least, new, unchipped laminate).
And yes, tempers will fray and all of us -- even the children -- will tire of pizza.
But today, anything is possible. It feels a bit like the very early stages of pregnancy, or even Braxton-Hicks contractions near the end of it: slightly uncomfortable and exhilarating at the same time.
I just hope it doesn't take nine months.
Our house is a Tudor Revival style, built in 1939 by builder Walter Gilbert for his own family. We admired it for years, and have owned it since June of 2000. During those years, we've lived with a kitchen so dysfunctional it deserves its own reality show. The previous owners confided, "We redid the kitchen, but we've never liked it." Our architect's sober diagnosis: "You have a severely fragmented work triangle."
During the next several months, brick walls will be breached, and the bricks salvaged. Faulty plumbing will be given its first-ever opportunity to vent. Awkward contemporary oak-n-walnut cabinets will be replaced with traditional white, and chipped, burned laminate counters with something else (at the very least, new, unchipped laminate).
And yes, tempers will fray and all of us -- even the children -- will tire of pizza.
But today, anything is possible. It feels a bit like the very early stages of pregnancy, or even Braxton-Hicks contractions near the end of it: slightly uncomfortable and exhilarating at the same time.
I just hope it doesn't take nine months.
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