elderberry excellence

Where do I begin? It took me a week+ to post this because I wanted to collect my thoughts and not undervalue an exceptional experience I had last Friday.

442 miles north northeast... a package, prepared in modest human kindness, left the hands of a stranger... now a friend... bound for this humble hamlet.

The story begins with a phone call from a good friend that I had lost contact with. The funny thing about maintaining friendships is that I used to think that it required both people to be equally invested in the relationship at all times.

not so.

Sometimes one person has to hold up both bottles of soda while the other one ties his shoes. Nevertheless, this friend has a friend that he recently introduced to the growahouse movement.

But let me not digress.... back to the package.

The friend of the friend, sent me a box containing 4 jars of organically grown jellies from her fall harvest accompanied by an impassioned letter signed eloquently...

..."from one global neighbor to another."

A few days out of town coupled with a necessarily hectic work-work/house-work week has left me exhausted... but I have not forgotten about you. I have thought about your inspired/delicious gift continuously.

Foremost... gratitude. I am thankful that our indirect communication compelled you to action. In our lives, we are surrounded with an abundance of potential inspirations... which ones if any will catalyze us into action? I am also grateful that your momentum reconnected me with a good friend. (evidence of the collateral effects of kindness)

I opened the fed ex package and I was completely overwhelmed with the simple excellence of your contribution.

Not far from growahouse is a large heavily wooded park with a community garden. I thought before that acquiring a plot might be an interesting opportunity. I am now convinced. I believe that pursuing this organic path will not only give me a tactile understanding of the merits of patiently living off the land counter to a culture of "right now," but it will also be a fitting extension of your positive energy.

I would love to talk to you about what to grow... what fruits and vegetables will nourish the body that nourishes this house?

online

I am sitting in my bed watching the Today show, checking my email, drinking a cup of blue mountain coffee, and eating a bowl of Pops with vanilla soymilk. I'm not sure why I felt it necessary to share that, but that’s my story. I spent all day yesterday hanging out with Fred the cable/internet guy.

He walked me thought the steps of installing the cable line to my house and amidst the myriad of stories and life lessons shared... he left me with two quotes that made me smile and I would be selfish if I did not share them with the masses.

In reference to describing a woman with an hourglass figure...

"Her body was cut like a South African diamond."

In reference to a long time ago...

"We go way back like cornrows and car seats."

I have had the rare and fortunate opportunity to interact with a kaleidoscope of people for minutes, moments, milestones... all here in this house. This big yellow house.

spin cycle

I just got the call that the delivery truck for my washer/dryer is en route... ETA... 20 min, so I'm about to head home and wait for it. I'm very excited.

Having learned a lesson from my last appliance delivery... its good to have a little cash on hand for heavy package arrivals. Sometimes a few wheel greasing Hamiltons can make the difference between a 200 lb box in your front yard and a 200 lb box on the second floor of your house.

I'm out.

bad boys, bad boys, what you gonna do?

The familiar mantra of the oddly addictive COPS show awoke me this morning at about 4:00AM. Having fallen asleep fully clothed with the television on, it was no surprise that the mullet trimmed Philadelphia police patrol had seamlessly slipped from their robbery investigating, purse snatch recovering, dismal, day to day beat... into my restless nocturnal chase scene that would have probably ended up with me in the back of an imaginary police cruiser... trying to MacGyver may way to safety from the subconsciously corrupt 5-O.

SO... awake... and surprisingly cheerful... I slinked my way to the first floor bathroom and started painting. I was really doing touch up paint from a painting session a day earlier (a session that was both enhanced and hindered by splitting a bottle of wine with a good friend). So there was tape to take off and some touch up corners that needed attention. I also had to give the ceiling a final coat of white to cover up the primer.

The first floor bath is significant because it is the most complete space in the house. In fact, it is about one day away from being complete. I want to use it as a catalyst for everything else, so I'm going to buy the bath mats and give the space a thorough cleaning.

The hope is that as the weekend picks up with countless tasks that require my attention, I will be able to walk into this small room that will shine like a bright beacon of accomplishment.... well...

a bright light-celery colored beacon... with rich guacamole and pumpkin accents.

nordic man

I ordered my washer/dryer yesterday from Thor Appliances. As with most things sustainable, you do the research and find that things that make sense logically are often sensible environmentally. The washer/dryer decision was no exception. I decided to go this route first because my dummy contractor saw it fit not to build the vent for the dryer that I drew on the plans and that any bargain-basement, bootleg contractor would not overlook. This led to my discovery that there are condenser dryers that do not require a vent. Instead they use the drum rotation and some other gadgets to suck all the water out of the clothes. Following that logic and perusing many consumer reports... led me to the decision to go ultra environmental with a "set it and forget it" approach to my laundry unit... a combination front loading washer/dryer.

So I make the order online and then I call the company to verify that the order was processed. I end up speaking to a man who tells me that there is a discrepancy between my payment and my order request. You see, I paid the base price, but I made note that I wanted the titanium finish.

Who doesn't?

The laundry industry has gone the way of the dyson vacuum displaying their braggadocios hubris in the repackaging of their technologically stagnant products in trendy colors... like champagne, mustard, periwinkle....etc So far be it from me to be the cat with the ordinary white laundry appliance. After all.. once I lock the laundry door, and go on with my life for another 1-2 weeks before looking at the appliance again... I can't image the disgust of open that door and seeing that ordinary white box looking back at me. What would my neighbors think?

Washing machines with vibrant colors clean better, right?

Anyway... I tell the dude he can keep the titanium finish because its not worth the extra $200 for the color... and get this...

He says that I sound like a nice guy and he'll send me the titanium anyway.... for the white price.

That was very kind of you Thor Appliance Man... good looking out.

power bar weekend

Get your black-green-gold, red-white-blue, purple-rainbow... whatever flag you want and start waving the ticker tape down Pennsylvania avenue cus the road to completion is paved with days like Saturday and Sunday. Picture it, Saturday morning... eleven fifty-five. I pull my newly rented home depot 15 passenger van up to a desolate metal yard in northeast dc. I was there to pick up the galvanized steel pipe that would be cut and reconfigured to comprise my new stair railings.

Here's the rub.

The van, from the front of the passenger side foot space to the back door... I'd say... about 12 to 13 feet. The pipe... 21 feet. So began my epic journey across town with one hand on the wheel and the other holding down the front end of the pipe that liked to bounce up every time I hit a bump.

It was hellish to say the least.

The key moment was when I was about 1.5 miles from home and the back door of the van un-tethered itself and starts to swing open.

But I'm no rookie. I've been in this game for way too long to not see that coming. Right before I pulled off from the metal yard... I dropped trow and engineered this little insurance policy.

(If you are wondering... that is my brown leather belt wrapped around the lock)

So... that successful trip allowed me and Dupree (aka DW) to get the second to third floor stair equipped with an intense industrial looking stair railing that is really OFF THE HOOK!!!

I'm serious... it looks intense and mirrors the concrete in its Viking-like strength.

Did somebody say hardcore?

huff stuff

We got started pouring the concrete sub floor for the third floor bathroom shower. The sloped shower floor, unbeknownst to me beforehand, is a complex layer cake of various materials that allow you the watertight security to not have liquid free flowing through the ceiling below. The shower boundaries were debated by local scholars for quite some time, but design triumphed in the end and the decision was made not to have a shower door. It's more of a "shower room."

Anyway... Thursday night we are putting down a layer of contact cement adhesive to stick the rubber liner to the concrete and all of a sudden... I start giggling. I'm thinking to myself... "what's so funny?"

nothing.

nothing is funny...There is nothing funny taking place... except the fact that we were hella high from the glue fumes.

It took a good half an hour with the windows open to calm down enough to avoid the urge to walk barefoot through my neighbor's sprinkler and scarf down a couple dozen bags of funyons.

wire less

So what's funny is that only a few people have seen me pull my wireless computer access tricks... and for good reason. I look ridiculous. Sometimes, I sit at the window in my bedroom, poised to hop on some neighbors unprotected wireless router... but it takes the right angle, wind currents and planetary alignment... I have also, on more than one occasion, found myself in my car, parked in front of a capitol hill cafe with my laptop on my lap... pilfering their wireless broadband service for my own personal use without patroning their establishment. If I'm lucky, they will forget to turn off the service until the cleaning crew finishes. That gives me an extra half of an hour or so to upload my delicious delectables for growahouse consumption.

Anyway... I'm tired of that and I believe that it is time to connect to the information superhighway. There are so many things that I have to try and manage as I push towards completion that I really need to be connected to the world.

So I had a conversation with Verizon DSL just now... which was basically a waste of my time. I'm going to call back in about 10 minutes and hopefully I can have a conversation with someone who has worked there more than 5 minutes.

the concrete cometh

It has been a long time in the making... but this afternoon... the wait will be over. Log off of Insant Messenger and push the do not disturb button on your office phone... because today...

I will put up the concrete countertop section of the gallery.

and I will say no more

the deluge

After a festive and ridiculously good time at DC's Caribbean Carnival celebrations this weekend, I took Sunday to rest and relax... and of course... watch the rain. The forecasters had predicted a weekend of rain and discomfort, but Friday came... no rain... Saturday came... no rain... but last night... the rain cometh.

It was an awesome sight. Sheets of rain falling for hours and hours... The news media were having difficulty broadcasting because their stations were flooding... trees were falling... mudslides.... rivers flooding their banks.

And then the morning came, and with it came the realization that there was water on the first floor of the house. The first floor of the house is a split level... 1/3 above grade, 2/3 below grade. The 2/3 did not fair very well with the torrential downpour. I fear that something like this would happen. My third year Site Engineering professor would always remind me that when dealing with water and buildings... good fences make good neighbors. If you forget this... the water may come knocking on your door to borrow some sugar more times than you care to endure.

So nostalgic analogies aside, I have a water problem.

What bothers me the most is that I think I might have created this problem. Main reason

  • Gutters
  • I believe that the main source of the water (based on the pooling pattern) is directly adjacent to the new gutter line that comes off of the roof. That's nearly 6 inches of rain over 5 squares of roof (each square is 10'X10') overnight.

    That’s a lot of water to come down one gutter right at the corner of the house.

    I knew the gutter needed to be routed away from the house, but you just get so caught up in other things that seem to be more pressing until it demands your attention. That’s life... well... that has been my life... putting out fires.

    It seems ironic that this fire is actually water.

    green thumb, white knuckles

    Two things first.

  • Although it is a vivid way to express intense, paralyzing, emotion or anxiety, I don’t love the term "white knuckles." Simply put, my knuckles don't get white. We should always question the use of phrases that are subversively exclusive.
  • I have a gardener.
  • So as a man with a lawn and no lawn mower, I was left with few options to manage the wheat field of a front yard that spring unleashed at the house. The neighborhood, arguably comprised of older less mobile folks; tends to be consistently abundant with various lawn maintenance services all eagerly moving about on Saturday mornings. ...each protecting their piece of the pie... each competing for new grassy relationships. After a few conversations, I felt that they were all too expensive and I would find an alternative. (Not excluding the man claiming to be Scotty Pippen's brother that stops by every three weeks asking if I have any work to be done)

    Flash forward a few days and my father gives me a call saying that he was by the house and he met a guy who lived close that would cut the lawn for $20. It sounded fair. So one lawn cutting - became two lawn cuttings - became filling a hole - became an unspoken lawn contract between two neighbors. He thus became... my groundskeeper.

    But perhaps the contract should not have been unspoken.

    I asked the groundskeeper to clear some of the shrubs along the driveway. They were becoming unruly and providing too much of a tempting habitat for local fauna. But I was not clear and he began chopping down everything with leaves.

    I took it as my bad and made the rest of my groundkeeper needs explicitly clear.

    Just the weeds and the overgrown brush.

    I game home yesterday and as I'm walking up from the bus stop I notice the mountain of debris in my front lawn.

    He did it again.

    Dozens of my 1 to 4 inch trunk friends gone... hacked down in the adolescence of their lives. I just stood there, where once a soft canopy of small indigenous plant life meshed together in a naturally occurring habitat... now... murdered...clear cut... I felt like a spotted owl coming back from a night of hunting to find my home had been felled by greedy loggers bent on environmental destruction. Yet, here in this moment... I was both logger and owl, duplicitous in action and emotion.

    So the growahouse flag hangs at half staff today for the side yard trees that found themselves casualties of progress. You will not be forgotten.

    au revoir

    This week marked a bittersweet bon voyage to an plesant plastic compadre. They came, not unlike a thief in the night, and swiftly abducted my Jiffy John portable toilet. I guess I knew they were coming... I knew that our time together would be short... but you never think its going to be so quick... you never think that the next time time you see her might be the last.

    We often laughed together when I crept out to see you after the sun went down. I would walk nervously... flashlight in hand... trying not to really touch you in any way, but eternally thankful that you were there.

    And now... I have two new porcelain friends that have taken your place. They each have two button flushing depending on the amount of water necessary. Yes... I know... they flush... and you couldn't. But I never held that against you... Did I? We were just crazy kids when we first met... You were what I needed at the time. But now things are different... I'm different.

    I'll miss you... blue box... plastic potty... awesome outhouse... you take care of yourself.

    pinch hit plumber

    I need to get a working toilet like yesterday. That’s all I'm saying. I got juice, medium mild salsa, and Tostitos in the fridge, but I have to go out to the big blue box in the front yard to relieve myself.

    How much sense does that make?

    So I just met a new plumber over at the abode, who might be able to help me wrap that problem up. I'm not even as pressed about the shower. I can shower at the gym or run through a sprinkler or something, but the toilet... you can't fake that.

    Either you can flush, or you can't.

    soft steps

    After 24+ hours of letting the cork flooring acclimate to the third floor environmental conditions, the installation began. So me and a few faithfuls worked tirelessly for about 5 or 6 hrs to get the floor down.

    Honestly... It wasn't that bad.

    It snapped the way it was supposed to snap... clicked the way it was supposed to click... There were a few areas that needed a bit more TLC, but all in all... it was a solid effort. Outside of the threshold to the bathroom, the third floor has a complete finished floor. It feels great to walk on. Its quiet, yet acrobatically inspiring... it makes you feel like walking on your hands.

    The thing I loved about this process is that I ordered the cork on Tuesday and it was on the third floor chillin by Friday evening.

    That’s what I'm talking about.

    I like the efficiency of the process. That is what I expect from the digital age. Seamless transitions. It takes tile weeks to arrive. WHY? Come on tile man... it's 2006!!

    snap and click

    I just got a call on my phone in which a woman informed me that she had 19 boxes of my flooring ready to be picked up. sweet.

    I was following the tracking online and they said it would not be in until Monday. This means that I can get started on putting in the finished floor on the third floor this weekend.

    excellent.

    I decided to go with cork flooring for the third floor. Main Reasons:

  • Cork is a rapidly renewable resource... meaning that the ecosystem can quickly replenish the supply after it has been harvested for my floors. In fact, you can remove the cork from the tree without killing the tree. It, in turn, will regenerate the lost cork.
  • Cork is an excellent sound reducer. The open stair setup of the master bedroom allows for a significant amount of sound transfer between the floors. Using Cork allows for each step that is taken not to be an increasingly annoying reverberating knock that radiates through the joists as it does in older wood floor homes/apartment buildings. It's quaint... but still annoying.
  • This cork utilizes a snap and click process that should make the installation much easier for me since the floor will be "floating," as opposed to, being nailed in place
  • Doug suggested it, and he is my hero
  • So I am going to try and pick those up in a few hours and see what trouble I can get myself into over the weekend. There will be a significant amount of cleaning necessary before I can get started, but it is exciting nonetheless.

    kinfolk, smoked chicken, and a wetsaw

    As usual, I'm exhausted. The weekend was action packed. Stardate 0004.0007.2006 4:15pm.

    The tile came into Morris Tile and I jet across town to get there before it closes at 5pm. I arrive and I am standing there at the counter.

    So here is the insight into my mindset in this situation... an interior being John Malkovich... look at me.

    I hope they have the tile. They said it was going to be here today, but it would just be my luck that they are going to say something happened between the last truck stop and here. I called this morning and they said the truck from Texas was in Gaithersburg and would be coming through to this location in the afternoon.... but like I said... just my luck... Okay okay... what's next...? I'm going to have to fit this tile in my car. I might as well carve out a space in the backseat. I wonder how many tiles I ordered? Is it in a crate? why am I here? Why am I trying to pick up a full order of tile in an Accord filled with shoes, a tent, a crumpled set of drawings, mail, work documents, house documents, water bottles, laser level, etc...?

    Got the tile... it fit somehow and I made a move to the homefront. Flash forward 24 hours and I have convinced myself that between my current abilities and the inherent tiling abilities genetic passed on to me, I decided to forgo any 'professional" assistance for the tiling. We laid the hell out of that tile over the weekend.

    Kitchen Floor... DONE First floor bath... We poured a new concrete floor and then laid in the tile last night. I'm talking wet saw tile cutters spinning, adhesive compound mixing, grout wiping, 3/16 spacer using... It was serious. It was a great collection of family/friend support spilling itself all over the house.

    I'm on my way to the house now to finish cutting some tile so I can take the tile cutter back to home depot before my 24hr window is over.

    keep on movin, homie

    I'm not sure where I am on the 30 day countdown, but I'm pushing with everything I got. I just say to myself..."you gotta keep on movin, homie."

    I try to envision myself on my bike... pushing through some uncharted terrain... tree canopy high above filtering the sunlight into piercing columns of light...helmet on, hydration system fully stocked, shoes clipped firmly into my pedals... just improvising and balancing ... counterbalancing and relying on instinct.

    It's an in-between melody of instinct and ambition.

    You just gotta keep on movin.

    I was on the road at 5:30AM to meet the plumber at the house by 6:00AM. Of course he didn't show up until 7:30AM... but who's counting minutes?.... wait.... um... yes... yes...

    ME.

    I'm counting minutes. You are wasting my time and I'm counting the minutes as they go by while I sit in my car in the dark. (Thank you, Daylight Savings) But nevertheless, with a strong chin and an optimistic brow, I waited patiently and was there when he arrived. He came in and went to work. I sat in the car and caught a few zzzzzz's.

    One Hour, Fifteen Minutes Later...

    He's finished.....Hmmm.

    I've waited two months for 75 minutes.

    As discouraging as that was... the road is paved for me to close up every last wall, call my two-man Jamaican Drywall Dream Team and get ready for the arrival of the Tile.

    lock and load

    This weekend my "calling all cars" paint cries were answered by a rag tag band of would-be pintar professionals. I had Team 145th channel their 20+ years of higher education towards putting together the kitchen cabinets. With the help of the Ikea instructional DVD and a continual process of elimination approach to finding a use for spare parts, all the cabinets were assembled and are ready to be mounted.

    Check.

    Simultaneously, I had Team Discovery Channel starting the base coat painting and finishing up the drywall odds and ends. I am continually indebted to them... and honestly at this point... they have given so much of their time and ability, that I will undoubtedly be in debt to them for the rest of my life.... maybe I can give them a first born or something... that might shave off a decade or two.

    Check.

    Sidebar... I wanted to get the Low VOC Paint to help maintain a toxin-free environment. HOWEVER... that was NOT in the budget. I was so disappointed. It costs, on average, $10 more per gallon for the paint that has less chemicals in it. Shouldn't it be less expensive? I guess change, in any way, is costly. Although... it's not as costly as not changing.

    So back to the weekend... We got music playing, Mom brought over some chicken wings and lemonade, folks from my office and other chapters of my life stopped in and it was a good time... as predicted. I had one friend, hmmm... let’s call him.... Team Intensity... who drove out to meet me on Sunday morning before I headed out to Home Depot Expo Design Center to look at floor tiles. He took the house key, drove back to the house and painted for a couple hours by himself and then vanished as stealthily as he arrived. That's intense. That's dedication.

    Check.

    once apon a midnight dreary...

    "While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door."

    So I had a visitor this morning. I got to the house around 8 AM and started going through my checklist of things to do and I hear this tapping sound that sounds like something is getting blown around by the wind in the courtyard or maybe someone is outside the house somewhere. Nevertheless, I became curious and proceeded to the second floor to look out onto the driveway...

    Nothing... no cars... big wind gusts...no neighbors poking around...

    ...and then I hear the sound again, but this time it's right behind me.

    Lo and behold there is a big black bird flying around the third floor, consistently banging his dome against the windows in a futile effort to escape. So, after a few tactical dive bomb dodges, I open the windows and he finds his way out.

    But how the hell did he get in here?

    I'm thinking, homeboy didn't have a key... there were no doors left open... no windows ajar... no ... Ahhh ha.... yes... now it makes sense. Because my roof soffit isn't finished, the bird flew in there and pushed his way past the insulation into the attic space. From there, he found his way through the hole in the third floor drywall ceiling. (The hole that had to be cut so the plumber could put a vent for the sewer line through the roof. A vent, mind you, that should have been done about six months ago. Don't ask me how that passed inspection.)

    So let me take the time to thank a few people for my morning.

  • Thanks to Dummy for not finishing the roof and creating an inviting nesting site for local migratory fowl.
  • Thanks to Dummy again for hiring a sup-par sub-contractor plumber, who consistently amazes me with his incompetence.
  • Thanks to the plumber for waiting till after the drywall was up to get someone over to the house to finish the roof vent.
  • Thanks to the DC Inspection office for needing only a firm hand shake and a head nod as proof of legitimate work.
  • 30...29...28...

    They say there is a minimum 30 day countdown from the finish of drywall to a house being habitable. There are so many nooks and crannies to be addressed. There are so many finishes to install and so many installers to manage. It is rumored to be the most difficult part of the house process. I used to say that part of being an adult is doing things that are difficult. Since then I have amended that mantra to say that part of being an adult is doing multiple things that are difficult... simultaneously.

    If life came at us one obstacle at a time, it would be considerably easier. Not so much the case though.

    So you do the best you can with the time you are given.

    The two-man Jamaican drywall ensemble are finished with the finishing of the drywall. They taped their last joint sanded their last edge. Aside from a few last minute drywall additions, we are actually ready to paint.

    You hear me?... I said..."READY TO PAINT"

    That’s just crazy to me. I am going to pick up my low-VOC base coat paint tomorrow... and hopefully, I will pick up my kitchen cabinets tonight. Next week, we get the tile for the kitchen and bathrooms...it is nothing short of crazy.