Orange You Happy About this Backsplash?

So I've mentioned the backsplash a few times already, at least I know I keep muttering away "orange backsplash" from time to time when everything looks like a huge mess and nobody quite understands where I'm heading with this project. I keep telling everyone: the backsplash will pull it all together and it will read as a kitchen, rather than a cobbled-together grouping of furniture in a room where cooking takes place. See what I mean?

What I like about this pair of photos: everything has changed except the location of the microwave. I learned this (among many other things) from my mom: move stuff around and see where it works for you. The thing is, here: the location of the doors was what didn't work for me. And of course, the hideous Jed Clampett was in the way (remember that? That was only five weeks ago!)
Well, we still have lighting to install and electrical to trim out. As I review the photos from over the years, I realize how the lighting is what changes the experience of the house more than anything. This room became so bright when I put all these white surfaces into it and moved the glazing just a bit. The new color on the walls is "Stone Harbor" I believe. It looks like shadow--the color of a Weimaraner, actually. But really what I was thinking about was the stone countertops that will replace the oh-so-economical white laminate (from IKEA, less than $10 a linear foot, and made in France to boot!) Laminate is cheap, easy to transport and install, and it ain't bad as a starter. In fact, with the right edge detail, it's just fine for most kitchens. I do think the recent real-estate boom has led us down the path of insisting on certain materials largely because the realtors call them necessary. Don't even get me started on the "stainless" appliance fad. Note, I do not have stainless. I don't particularly care for it, and I absolutely don't like it in this kitchen.
The white enamel stove is original to the house (c.1925.) It's a Detroit Jewel and I like it. It could use some work, but it throws out a nicer flame than the Viking, in my opinion, and the burner-covers are extremely handy. (detail photo forthcoming)
The old metal cabinets are white "enamel" too, so that pulls together with the fridge and the dishwasher. (p.s. I love love love the dishwasher. More on that soon.)
Well, thanks for reading. It has been too long since my last post. I was a little overwhelmed by all the mess, and then overwhelmed by the calm utility of this space. It actually works!

First Meal, New Kitchen

Really I can't blame them for looking so pissed off. Every day, there's a new order of business in here, and I try to at least keep the first feeding consistent in terms of location. Hugo snarfs his food, especially if he's nervous. Angus nibbles, especially if he's nervous, so we run into some issues of competition and territory with the feeding.

All in all, they're great dogs, and relatively adaptable to the contingencies of renovation. They like the tradesmen and assorted other visitors. Angus in particular, excels at meeting, greeting and learning all about what the electrician/plumber/painter/carpenter actually does, up close & personal. But, like me, they're sensitive to upheaval, so I think this weekend I'll whisk them off for a few days at the family manse in Baltimore. Upheaval, yes, but they'll enjoy the steady stream of affection and those with more generous hands when it comes to treats. Well, I could use a little of the same, plus some time with my family to recover a bit from the drone of constant work in my own house.

Lucky for me, my parents completed a big kitchen renovation fairly recently and they are basking in the glow of it. My mom bakes like she never has before, and it's just a pleasure to see how she and my dad are using the reconfigured space in unexpected ways. Like my house, theirs was built in the 1920s, and so the kitchen redesign is tricky for so many reasons (link and essay forthcoming) Also like my house, the reconfiguration of just a couple windows and doors made a tremendous impact on the use of the space, and also on the way light behaves in the room. Here I wish I had a better camera (better photographer too!) to demonstrate that point. It's astonishing to me how much it changes a space when you move a window up just a bit. Well, this will link into a whole new topic, because in the end, it's all about light.

Sweat Equity

And I've got the laundry to prove it!

Well this relates also to my earlier post (or wag of the finger, if you will) that I could have titled "Do as I say, Not as I Do."
Physical labor will wreck some clothes. The mud has been particularly unkind to shoes, socks and towels. Figure in extra laundry and some Clorox.

Praise the Lord and Pass the Sunscreen

Without getting into issues of religious faith, let me just say that the recent period of unusually heavy rainfall has led me to wonder if this isn't God's way at getting back at me for trying to be handy around the house.
But take a look at the sky today. We'd made tentative plans to tighten up some structure and add decking later this week, but this felt like a "make hay while the sun shines" moment, so I made an executive decision and enlisted Paul to head up the effort.
In a small house, tearing off even a tiny little porch has a big impact on how things work inside. With the rain delays, the inside of the house has become increasingly hard to manage, since I don't even have a stable area outside on which to prop, say, muddy boots or a broom.

That's me, a few days ago, looking down trying to figure out how to get out of those boots and into the house without falling into a mud-filled crater. You'll have to use your imagination, because I was not able to photograph myself trying to catch two slippery mud-coated terriers on their way into the house in order to administer eight little footscrubbings each time. (Just so you know, I am not a full-fledged neat freak, nor do I have delicate, light-colored Aubussons in the adjacent room to worry about. It's just that little bits of upheaval add up to a lot of discomfort quickly, and light at the end of the tunnel felt like a necessary stage to achieve at this point.)

This feels a lot better:
(and please note the re-installation of the broom-rack--a lifesaver, in my opinion.)

Hugo is done with his inspection. The new deck meets his criteria and he feels comfortable enough to go inside and relax. Me too. Finally, I feel like I can relax at home again! Better yet, I can relax at home on the back porch. Now that's something I have never been able to say before!
There's a lot of work left to be done, but having a stable place on which to do it makes a world of difference.
Now that old blue tarp serves double-duty, since it keeps us protected from the sunshine while we work. It's given me all kinds of ideas about a future pergola which allows some control of shading. Having a sort-of ceiling over a space like this actually makes it feel larger, which is worth considering.
Paul was kind enough to let me work alongside him today, and he even taught me a little technique with the drill. I'm getting better at it. In fact, I managed at least 500 deck screws, give or take. Paul did the tricky ones near the edges. My arm hurts. Luckily Paul advised me to ice it so it won't hurt so much in the morning. It's a good feeling though.
Sherman kept telling me how putting on the decking was going to be the fun and easy part, and now I feel a little badly, because she's laid up with a cold, and to be honest, this part was a lot more fun and easy than the framing. Of course, God graced us with perfect weather today. So now let's all say a nice little prayer for clear skies and good health all the way around (before I start waxing on about well-known carpenters from biblical times.) And thanks to everyone who's helping to make it happen.
Peace.

At the heart of it, clean dishes

So, dear reader, you might be surprised to discover that the genesis for this little (and rapidly expanding) project was the desire for a dishwasher. Today Jessreal is here to rough-in the dishwasher I picked out yesterday. Angus tries to help with any tradesman, but he's especially fond of Jessreal.
It's a little tricky to work modern conveniences into an old and idiosyncratic kitchen, especially when one's tastes veer towards expensive things like panel fronts and smaller sized appliances. But after much consideration, I settled on a simple WhirlPool model that almost looks like it has a panel.
These old metal cabinets will look a bit shabby next to the new ones on the way, but they'll do for now. The sink is a classic: an old American Standard cast iron porcelain with double drainboard. It's sturdy and I like its looks too. I'd like to replace cabinetry underneath, which may be feasible. We'll have to find out just how much that sink weighs...

Two Sheets of OSB: Priceless

While I was making my order at the lumberyard, I decided to throw in a couple of sheets of plywood--just in case something prevented us from getting decking on in a timely manner. (persistent rain, for example) Running with the theme of asking vendors to direct me to their "finest, cheapest" product, I went with OSB, which is not too heavy, not too expensive, and suitable for temporary walking surface, assuming you screw it down securely. For under $10, I've got a path from the door out to the garden, which is particularly important for Hugo, the elder of my two dogs. He's not nearly as nimble as Angus, who is happy to skip across the tops of the joists.

More About Mud

Well I think we've established my love-hate relationship with red clay. Love it on a tennis court, hate it in my house. The rain came this weekend, and it keeps on coming, so in the meantime, let's talk a little more about red clay. Housekeeping is a particular problem when you live near the red stuff. Erosion control at construction sites is something I'm interested in at the moment, but mostly because I'm trying to limit the impact on the housekeeping.
Forgive me, dear reader, because this is a little gory (and do bear in mind I took the first photo after cleaning up a fair bit.) But take my word for it that it was much, much worse.
Yesterday, Tim and Sherman and I decided to continue progress on the deck construction in spite of the forecast for rain. We rigged up a tarp overhead to offer a little cover, and it did just that: it covered us, a little.
I do wish I had photos of the mess while we were working, but it was difficult enough to keep hands on tools given the slippery nature of the mud. See how the tops of our posts and that band got sloppy from us trying to grab onto them. Just handling the lumber became a bit of a challenge, not to mention handling small and sharp things like nails and joist hangers.
Today I lined up the straw bales in an effort to hold off the tide of red clay that flows down this slope. Tomorrow, I'll clean up more red clay in the house. It gets worse before it gets better. But the important thing is that it gets better!

How many architects does it take to....

Well before I make a bad joke about a light bulb, take a look at today's progress. Lucky for me that Tim and Sherman came today to do some heavy lifting and bring on the power tools. Up to now, the only power tool I've used is my much beloved Milwaukee drill. In order to get this porch out of the scene and make the roof hold on, we needed not only some power tools, but also some serious thought as to the structure.

Here's Tim thinking about it with Sherman.

And here's Tim thinking about it some more. But wait a minute. The posts are gone! Presto-change-o we have new structure! So now Tim's thinking about how best to deploy that new SawzAll to get the rest of this debris out of the way. See how we've used a long 2 x 6 to carry the load across to those 2 x 4 posts. It's just the temporary framing that will allow us to remove what needs to go and frame what's coming next, while keeping that little old roof intact and where it belongs.

It's funny with an old building, you never know what you'll find. We felt very lucky to find a good ledger under the porch, which will make things easier from here out. Mostly, I feel extremely lucky to have friends who will lend their brains and brawn (not to mention the tools) to my little project here.

Really, I looked out over this pile of mud this evening and as upsetting as it is in some ways, it feels like good change, and when you have good friends holding your hand through the process, you actually learn something. Something other than "I don't like upheaval." I still don't like upheaval (who does?) but I think I'll be able to make better choices in the face of change now that some incredibly kind and generous friends have walked me through the first few steps.
Oh, don't get me started on the steps! There are none, but we'll adapt.

Things are easier when they're less scary, and they're less scary when you jump in with both feet. These feet are muddy (but you really ought to see how muddy Tim and Sherman are...)

Thanks guys! I couldn't (no, I wouldn't) have done it without you!

Keyword

Don't forget your keys!

Doors and windows are endlessly complicated. Today I swear to God I went to the locksmith three times to get the new latchset and to sort out the details of installing my existing deadbolt into the new door. When I bought this house, it came with this key, which is original. There was an impressive alarm system on all openings, including the garage, but this skeleton key was the only thing that could lock a door.

So after my many trips to Albemarle Lock and Safe (special shout-out and link forthcoming) I realized the day was wearing us all out, most of all Paul, whose primary goal was to get this house buttoned up for the night. As we were debating the various methods for doing-so (see, the deadbolt from the existing door was removed to the new one, and I don't care for keyed latches--the kind where you leave the door and realize "oops I just locked myself out") I remembered the old skeleton key in a nostalgic way. And then it all came together: no need to bolt the old door with lumber and screws: the skeleton key will turn that old mortise lock into the security system for the night. Glad I could locate it and that it worked.

How many cooks in the kitchen?

In this case, I say we have exactly the right number. Remember that little receptacle I showed you in the last post? It's a dedicated line that I had the electricians put in way back when I had a refrigerator here. So, given the impending SawzAll and the ideas brewing in my brain about potential appliance usage in this corner, we called in Mark Schuyler to figure it all out. He's an interesting guy not only because he's a great lighting designer. He's also a Master Electrician, so we know he'll figure out how to make it legal, and safe to boot. What I didn't know was that he'd actually pull the wires through and label things and make me understand how these things work just a little better.
Here's a detail of that little corner. Paul's drilled out some holes through the existing structure so the Romex will fit in a convenient way. We went through the likely scenarios of electrical usage in this area and weighed that with the feasibility of running lines to the panel, etc. Note here the plaster and lath which exists in this house. We considered cutting it all out back here in order to simplify things and insulate the wall. With an old house, it's best to be prepared for compromise. This plaster is particularly tricky due to its brittleness. The rest of the house was a bit more predictable, but back here in the kitchen it's not too cooperative.

Seriously, when does all the upheaval stop?

Poor Hugo. He's old and has never been too comfortable with change.
That said, I realize how much it taxes my nerves to have construction near where I sleep and eat, and it's good to think about that. I'm always very candid with clients about how upsetting the whole process will be.
Today's goal is to cut out a bit of wall to the left of this door and install the new door in its place. Along the way, we'll run into some electrical work (note the receptacle to the left of the jamb.) It all came together beautifully today--like minds working together and getting it done. And we had some fun along the way, too. Isn't that what it's all about?
So here's Paul, who's not only great to work with, but great to think with, too. I know that it's tricky to have someone over your shoulder when you're trying to work it out in your head, so I have a great appreciation for Paul letting me sit in on that conversation and add my own two cents, because I'm working it out in my head at the same time. In the abstract, architects just design how it's supposed to look or work. It's extremely inefficient in a lot of ways. So in my own house I just go with what feels right, and it feels right when I have confidence in the guy holding the saw.
Here, Paul has stripped the trim off that old door to the pantry, and he's getting ready to make some serious dust by cutting up that plaster and lath to give an extra eight inches to the opening. I've been marking my cabinetry ideas with blue tape on the wall and floor, and that helps me visualize things better than the thousands of dollars of CAD programs and computer hardware in the office (though I use that stuff too...)

Here's what I love about red clay

Barcelona Masters Series Final

Unlike the Virginia red clay that plagues my housekeeping efforts, the red clay on which tennis is played makes me very happy indeed! Seriously, I love watching tennis, especially during the European clay court season. Today's final is between two Spaniards, which bodes well for a nice long match. Rafael Nadal, of course, is known as the King of Clay, and is arguably the best player to ever take on the terre battue. David Ferrer is another excellent clay courter.

I do find the images of clay court tennis to be especially beautiful. The game itself is much more meditative to watch on clay compared to hard-court or grass. It's a little like chess in that the players have to think ahead as they construct the points. I suppose it's the extra fraction of a second that the ball hangs in the air that makes this a much more intellectual game. There's a terrific graphic demonstration of why the ball moves the way it does on clay (and also why Nadal's game is so tough to crack) in the New York Times. I'll figure out how to add the link here.

No photos of porch progress today, as I am completely wiped out from working out there in the 90-degree April heat. I must say my own legs were about as muddy as Ferrer's in this photo, but not quite as bloodied. So I've cleaned up, turned on the AC and the Tennis Channel, and plan to spend the afternoon watching these two guys work on the clay. I'm done for the day.

Here's what I hate about red clay

As I was working on the porch today, I thought about how much energy goes into trying to keep red clay out of my kitchen. Most dog-owners in this part of the world share that concern. It's a constant battle, and with a pair of terriers, it's an all-out war. After I took this photo a few years ago, I considered for a moment the idea of terra-cotta decor. But I hate that color. I hired a housekeeper who cleans floors like nobody's business, and I make do with a series of "mud-abatement" procedures at the back door when it rains.

That said, one of my primary motivations for redesigning the back entry is to keep the mud out. I started hosing it off some areas near the house and it just doesn't go away.

Do NOT try this at home

So my Sunday New York Times arrived this morning with a very timely article right on the front page. I've been thinking about this topic a lot lately, needless to say. Even in brighter economic times, people often think they can save lots of money by acting as their own designer, tradesman or general contractor. The best answer to this idea that I've heard is: "Only a fool has himself as a client." Since I am breaking my rule with nearly every aspect of this project, it's worth noting that I am aware of the risks and frustrations of a semi-do-it-myself project. And I am becoming more and more aware of them with each passing day, so hopefully this is turning me into a better architect. Without question, I have gained a better understanding of how things go together, the importance of sequence, the many logistical challenges faced by a contractor, not to mention the tremendous stress of living through renovation.
In my practice, I usually advise clients not to approach renovation as a piecemeal series of small projects.
Here's why:
1. Economy of Scale
It's just not cost-effective in the long-run. If you get a good contractor with the right tools and the right skills, you will absolutely get more bang for your buck. Some people like to equate their own sweat-equity with the hourly rate of an experienced pro. Needless to say, they're deluding themselves (and I might add, insulting said pro at the same time)
Of course, I wouldn't be doing a good job of schilling for my profession without mentioning the importance of having the right architect to design the project.
2. The Hassle Factor
Never underestimate the sense of upheaval brought on by renovations in and around your house. You sleep there, you want your pets and children and possessions to be safe there. Busting up walls is messy and noisy and dangerous. Prolonged pay-as-you-go renovations are tremendously stressful for individuals and relationships. Even the best-run project with top of the line contractors will bring stress into your household.
3. Safety
Early on, a couple of friends offered up their Sawz-Alls for my little project, but I declined until Tim and Sherman came over with the heavy artillery. With the demolition, I went at a slower pace with hand tools, but so far I still have ten fingers left. I'll need those fingers for drafting!
My general rule of thumb (yeah, I still have two of those) with power tools is: I don't use anything big, noisy or sharp unless there's someone around who knows what they're doing.
Interesting in that Times article how they report more doctors' visits related to unskilled people attempting home improvements. I don't want to be in that statistic. I've got a couple of scrapes and bruises, and today I do feel like I'm a candidate for a lower-back transplant.
I ramble on. This is a big topic, and I'm still working it out in my head and on the keyboard.

At the end of the day, this is what it's all about

My handsome terrier, Angus, who knows how to pose.
The dogs like to hang out here (though I have been very careful during this process not to endanger them with all the broken nails and falling objects.) So now they have a better view. And in a few days, they'll have a better place from which to take in the view. Gone will be the Downspout to Nowhere (oddly, the only part of this house that has a gutter is the Jed Clampett!)
Gone will be the slanty stairs, the droopy doorway, the fusty floorboards and the rusty rail.
It's time for a new outlook...a new door and window, in fact.
Next time: an account of my fabulous trip to Gaston & Wyatt, where the perfect door and window found the perfect home. As we loaded the door (pre-hung, fir, 3-panel, 3-light, 2-8/6-8) into the truck, I felt like I was bringing home a puppy from the pound. Someone didn't want this door that will suit my little house just fine. So I brought it (and a lovely casement window) home for a song.
Phew I am tired.

Brush 'em, Floss 'em, or Lose 'em

That's what's printed on the complimentary toothbrushes I get from my dentist, and it's a good way to think about your fascia.


Hooray. Paul is here! Paul is a bonafide carpenter, so I feel a little safer working when he's around. He's replacing some rotted fascia here and there--places where water has lingered too long. I spotted a few potential "cavities" and Paul confirmed that two of them needed work. This spot (where the metal roof meets the wood) is not visible to anyone but the squirrels, so he patched it together with some board I salvaged from the old pantry. Nice heart pine, in fact.


Over here on the west side of the house there's an addition with a flat roof. Those are particularly problematic. This one has what's called a drip edge, which is a little piece of metal intended to force water to drip away from the fascia. This particular profile behaves more like a "dribble edge" instead.
Yeah, yeah I know I need gutters. But for various reasons I have resisted the idea. Architects don't like 'em. If I can keep the water off the wood, and keep vigilant about potential soft spots, I'll be OK. Here, the soft spot required more than a filling, but less than a root-canal. Paul found a tiny gap in the metal roof above, and some damage to the sub-fascia. Luckily it had not gotten to the structure yet. He replaced the board, and hit the trouble spots with some roofing goo we're calling Roofer in a Can.

Windows and Views

I love the way this little casement window is just hanging on for life. Really, I needed this pantry to be out of my way so that I could see out into my garden. I'm getting there...

Later in the day, I've gotten rid of that little window and more siding. Now I'm really attached to the fixed window at the far end. It has that gorgeous old glass that just makes any view a little nicer.

The Birds and the Bees

Evidently, there were a lot of them living up there, as I found out when I pulled the ceiling down and was showered the collected housing of birds, bees and other flying things. Luckily I did not surprise or displace anyone.


And here's a closer look for anyone who'd care to see just what's in my lungs, eyes and hair right now.

Before photos

Enjoy it while it's still ugly, folks. It's the last vestige of the porch I affectionately refer to as the "Jed Clampett." Seriously, an outdoor pantry is a cool old idea, and I do intend to keep some of that function in the new porch that will replace it. This one is tiny: 5' long by 42", maybe. And the door from the kitchen also tiny, so it is not tremendously useful for storing today's kitchen excess. Plus there's an insulation issue. Since I went to the trouble of adding attic insulation to the entire house, it's been especially difficult to use the pantry with much frequency. Add that to the fact that this is a kitchen with more things swinging into it than you can imagine (drawing forthcoming.) Imagine: two doors from the outside, a pair of inswing casement windows, and a door in the floor (image forthcoming) which provides access to the mechanical/storage/laundry below.

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Here's the window on the other side of the pantry, along with the aforementioned inswing casements. Yes, that side of the kitchen is leaning hard. It's amazing the plaster hasn't cracked inside. Very resilient, this little old building.

Well, I don't know much about structure, but this is sketchy.

I guess I'd call this a questionable bearing condition, what with the decidedly spongey wood under there. Post feels rock-solid, but it's hard to tell how well it's transferring load down to my pier. Opting for the scientific method, I had my neighbor watch while I jumped (gently) on that corner. We decided it would last the night. And it did.
Paul gave me some instructions for shoring up the roof when removing the rest of the structure. Oh, the things I ought to write down!

Demolition: the best way to begin

Break it down
Tore off the screens today and took out most of the framing, some siding.
Sherman, was I supposed to be careful removing this part of the siding? I thought maybe this was a good opportunity to practice pulling pieces off with minimal damage.
Well, nothing particularly salvageable at this point, but I am getting better at pulling out the nails.



It does lighten things up considerably, getting rid of all that filthy metal screen. I even poked a hole through to the pantry to I had a place to keep tools at hand.