Tell Me a Story

Behold, our glamorous story poles! This bright orange netting went up yesterday in preparation for the city's Architectural Review Board (ARB) meeting to discuss our planned remodel of the garage.

Our garage is, in a word, butt-ugly. It's not entirely original to the house, having been built sometime in the 1930s. Presumably, this is when the owners bought their first automobile and wanted a place to park it. The garage was inartfully extended a few years later when the owners (we think) bought a bigger car. It didn't fit, so they moved one of the garage doors a foot closer to the curb.

The structure is inelegant but sturdy. "Bomb shelter" comes to mind. When we first approached the city about remodeling it, their knee-jerk reaction was no, absolutely not, we can't allow you to remodel an historical structure. Then I showed them a photograph and, to a man, they all said, "do whatever you want." They'd be happy if we demolished it.

Short of that, we've decided to give it a bit of a face lift. We want to top the flat, tar paper roof with a peaked roof that more-or-less mimics the roof of the house. We'd also like to replace the two homemade (read: crappy) doors with real doors that, y'know, open. And close. Radical, I know.

The city seems perfectly happy to allow us to do this, and our neighbors are thrilled, too. But we have to go through the motions of an ARB meeting first, and among the requirements are these "story poles" that allow passersby to see what the new roofline will look like. We think it might partially obstruct the view from the B&B next door (the yellow structure in the background) but that's too bad. There are no "viewshed" laws in Pacific Grove, so you can't prohibit construction merely because it blocks your view. Besides, we think the pitched roof and shingle siding will offer a better view than the flat, tar-paper view they get now.

Do-Over!

When it rains it pours. After two or three days of no help, today we've got two plumbers, two glass installers, and two floor refinishers all in one room, sharing about 20 square feet of space. Good thing they all play nice with each other.

The plumbers are a week late, installing the two sinks and faucets in the 2nd-floor bathroom. The glass guys are installing the shower door... which turned out to be the wrong size. You know the old saying, "measure twice, cut once?" This guy should have measured three times. He made the door an inch too wide, and you can't cut glass after it's been tempered, so he'll have to order another one. Alas, our shower won't be finished until after New Year's.

The floor guys are also here because the gorillas who installed the kitchen appliances scratched up the redwood. There are tell-tale gouges directly in front of the refrigerator and the dishwasher, and they ain't gonna just polish out. So the floor refinishers had to come back and remove the topcoat they put down a month ago, sand out the gouges, and apply a new finish. That's drying as we speak, which means the plumbers and glass installers can't walk on the floor. Or make any dust. It's a tricky exercise in not painting yourself into a corner, but hey--these guys are professionals.

We can't walk in the kitchen for another 24 hours, and the shower has no door. But at least the faucets work. At least, I think they do... I haven't tested them yet, so there's still plenty of time for something to go wrong.

A Rose Is a Rose...

Yesterday we got the rose window put back in the 2nd-floor bathroom.

Actually, the glass itself came back from the glass shop a few weeks ago, but it's been sitting downstairs waiting for the installers. In the meantime, we've had a scenic piece of plywood blocking our bathroom window for, oh, about two months now. Yesterday the plywood finally came down and the window went back in. (The tape is not part of the design; that's just there for safety and I've been too lazy to remove it.)

The lower half of the window is glazed with "glue chip" glass, so named because it used to be made by pouring glue onto clear glass, letting it set up, and then chipping it off. The glue would splinter off irregularly sized slivers of glass, leaving a random pattern not unlike that of frost condensation or wispy vines. Anyway, we like the look of it, and it's historically accurate.

This marks the first time in many years that this window has worked. The top was stuck open when we moved in, and the previous owners clearly hadn't shut it for many years before that. Since the bathroom had no fan or other ventilation, this window was more-or-less permanently fixed open. It. Was. Breezy. And cold.

In fact, the bottom two-thirds of the window was hidden behind a really ugly wall mirror, with only the rose pattern peeking out from the top. You can imagine the sort of crud that collected in the gap behind the mirror and the glass.

Now we've re-hung it with the original sash weights in place, on new cord. I pulled off, stripped, and lubricated the original metal sash pulleys. We found some modern replacements, but decided not to use them. Oh, and we stripped off several layers of paint, including one bright purple layer! Yikes. At least it was only painted purple on the inside. We're thinking it probably dated from the 1960s. I don't think they make paint that color anymore.

All Mod Cons

Woo-hoo! Our house has all the modern conveniences, even that new-fangled electrical lighting. No more gas explosions!

Actually, we just changed the light switches on the ground floor to period-correct pushbutton switches, seen here. They've got mother of pearl inlays and make a satisfying click when you push 'em. Some even have dimmers: you push the top switch on, then twist the lower knob to dim the lights. Spiffy.

The only problem during installation was finding room. These switches are wider than the "normal" modern switches, so they take up more room in the box. The wiring got a bit crowded and required some inventive routing and judicious use of wire nuts in places. It all ended well, though.

I Love a Parade

Thursday was the annual Parade of Lights in downtown Pacific Grove, and it went right past our window. Kathy and I stayed warm and dry inside, fortified with adult beverages, while the parade went by. We waved. They waved back. Life is good.

Among the paraders was the PGHS band, David's alma mater. We don't like their new drummer as much.

I'm Fine With a Bucket, Thanks

Half-forgotten amidst the flurry of activity in the kitchen is our poor "master" bathroom. It's the master bath only by default; there's a bathroom on all three floors, and the second floor is where our bedroom is located, so that makes it the master bath, right?

Anyway, it's been running consistently about a month behind all the other work. We're still a long way from being finished, but it's starting to take shape. The shower dam went in a few weeks ago. Then it got hot-mopped and filled with water, awaiting inspection. The inspector evidently came and went (I never saw him), so then the tile could go in.

Michele (mee-KAY-lee) is the young Sicilian tile setter. He's a hoot. He's also pretty good at his job. He sings, whistles, and talks to himself as he works. He also like the same radio stations that I do, which is surprising since he's half my age. He likes espresso, but he puts a lot of sugar in it. Yuck.

At any rate, he's been tiling the shower, then the floor. The floor got finished the day after Thanksgiving, then Michele came back on Monday and Tuesday to grout everything. Today it's quiet, for the first time in weeks.

We figure it'll be another... I dunno... four weeks before the bathroom is usable. The glass enclosure for the shower hasn't been ordered yet, and none of the plumbing is in. We've got all the fixtures; they're just not installed. So we wait some more.