Happy Birthday House

Kitchen remodeling is still in full swing, and there's been more collateral damage--or should I say collateral improvement? The new pipes continued up to the bathroom, of course. The bathroom sink, toilet, NE tub all have new supply lines and shut off valves. It turned out that there was a leak in the valve on the tub faucet that couldn't be repaired, so I now have a new faucet and shower in the tub. They snaked all of the drains upstairs, too. The new electrical work in the kitchen (1935 house? No ground wires.) had to extend to the bathroom, too.

Of course there is some new damage to repair: there's a hole in the plaster wall in my upstairs hallway where they had to access the wiring; there's a hole in the study closet wall where they had to access the pipes, and there are some new holes in the bathroom tile that need to be repaired. Still, for all of the disruption, it feels good to be whipping this old house into shape. Wednesday marks 15 years that I've owned the house, and she's finally getting the improvements she's needed since day one.

It's time to admit to my growing bad mood, though. I will admit that I've been totally impressed with myself. Every aspect of my life has been in some state of stress or chaos for the last two months, but I've been uncharacteristically anxiety-free. I started a big new job in July; I put together a big promotion dossier; I tore my meniscus and started physical therapy; and my house is a giant mess. But I've been okay. I haven't stressed about my diet of processed food and restaurant meals or whined about the fine coat of dust that covers everything in the house. That's all about to end. On Friday, I moved the appliance delivery date to October 3rd, but there's still no telling when the granite will come or when the painters can be here. Realistically, I think I have another month of remodeling ahead of me. Another month of washing dishes in the tub. Another month of wallowing in construction dust. I know: it could be worse. I'm sick of it though.

Okay. Whining complete for now. No new kitchen pictures today...I live in hope that this week will bring new walls and a new ceiling, so I'll post pictures when that happens. My bigger hope is that it will bring no new surprises. It may be my house's birthday week, but she does not require a surprise party.


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Pipe Dreams

This has been a busy week between kitchen remodeling and work. Here I sit on a Saturday morning, and I think I can say that it's been a productive and happy week. On the kitchen front, all of the plumbing work is done. The new pipes are in, my slow drains have been cleared, and my house is now leak-free. Kelvin, the electrician, was here yesterday while I was at work. I just got a call this morning from the contractor, Andrea. "Kelvin will be there in an hour. He needs to talk to you about some electrical problems." Happily, he also said the words, "it will not be expensive." We'll see.

On the happy front, the week has been filled with good meals and good company. My friend Pam invited me to dinner last Sunday, so I was well fed--and entertained by her twin daughters. On Thursday night, my colleague Fred and his wife, Carol, invited me to dinner at their house. We ate on their screened in veranda on a day when the temperatures went from hot and humid to cool and dry, and it was lovely. Good food and good conversation! On Friday, I had a breakfast meeting at school, complete with quiche and blueberry French toast. Later that day, I headed over to a nearby bar and grill for happy hour with work friends, where I ate dinner. All in all, I've happily avoided eating most of the not-so-appetizing food in my freezer, and I've also had some fun.

Of course, I'm looking forward to the day when my kitchen is finished and my house is livable again. I joke that whenever I ask Andrea when he thinks it will be finished, his Italian accent gets extra think so that I never understand his answer. The truth is that I don't even bother asking much. There's no real way for him to know, given that this old house is filled with hidden problems that must be resolved. I've always had a little anxiety about burst water pipes and electrical fires, so I'm honestly relieved to have this work done. It's not cheap, but I'm willing to pay a little more for peace of mind.

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Kitchen Renovation II

My general contractor stopped by on Friday morning to talk to me about the state of my water pipes, and the news is bad. Andrea, the contractor, tells me that he can't believe I hadn't had a major pipe-bursting incident already. The water pipes are soft brass, and over time, they've developed dozens of micro-leaks. We stood in my gutted kitchen on Friday, and he shone a flashlight up into the recesses behind the now missing ceiling, settling on a brass pipe encased in a green and white growth of waterborne minerals. "See that?" he asked in his thick Italian accent. "That's no good." He moved the flashlight from pipe section to pipe section showing me other places where the pipes were bad. "We replace everything," he said.

The plumber comes on Monday to give me the big bad news about the estimate to replace every water pipe in my house. I told Andrea to have him look at the drain pipes, too. If there's more bad news, I want it all now. I'm pretty calm about all of this. I know it's going to be pricey, but it has to be done. The kitchen renovation didn't cause it, it just revealed a pre-existing problem, and that's a good thing. In the meantime, work is on hold.

In a side note, I'm totally impressed by how neat and tidy Andrea and his crew keep things. If I didn't go into the kitchen see that they've torn it entirely apart, I'd never know. They keep things clean, and in the midst of chaos, that's wonderful. They do good work. I asked Andrea to save me a piece of the wall tile to satisfy my nostalgia, and he did. He handed it to me the other night and said, "That's Rookwood." Rookwood? Rookwood Pottery tile? My kitchen museum curator self spanked my kitchen remodeling self hard. Cincinnati was home to Rookwood Pottery early last century, and in addition to tile, they made remarkable art pottery. I felt sick. "Why didn't you tell me?" I asked him. "If you knew, you never would have let me tear it out," he said. And then before I could protest, he said, "It's Rookwood, but it's ugly, damaged Rookwood." I couldn't argue with him there. Whatever it was , it's gone now. He's not getting his mitts on my 1935 Rookwood Pottery tiled bathroom, though!

Here's the state of my kitchen now:















Here's the fabulous Andrea and my chunk of remaining Rookwood.





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Kitchen Renovation I

The much anticipated kitchen renovation is underway, and (as feared) the contractor has hit a snag. It turns out that my 1935 kitchen has 1935 water pipes. No surprise there, but the issue is that they're a soft, brittle brass that has started to leak here and there. The plumber was here for four hours yesterday, and every time he fixed a leak and tightened a joint, another leak would pop up. I was without water one night, but thanks to my friend, Karen, who lent me her shower, I survived. Today, my contractor comes to give me the bad news about how all of my pipes must be replaced and about how much that will cost. I'm surprisingly calm about this. Rather than seeing the situation as something gone terribly wrong, I'm seeing it as a relief. They uncovered a potential disaster before it happened. Of course, there is the money issue. Sticker shock might darken my sunny disposition today.

In the meantime, here are some photos of my disappearing 1935 kitchen. It's adorable, I know. I have pangs of guilt for demolishing what I lovingly refer to as my kitchen museum, but there's ground in grime on that old linoleum and chips in the farmhouse sink that are rusting. I've used this kitchen well for fifteen years, but I needed something new. Let's hope I can still afford this new thing after the plumbing estimate!















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Learning to Walk

I'm feeling a little crabby these days: I'm on a forced hiatus from walking, and I don't like it. I went on a writing retreat in July, and on a long walk across a meadow, I stepped into a shallow hole and hyperextended my leg. I had some knee problems before that misstep, but the hole clinched it: I have a complex tear in my right lateral meniscus. After an MRI and a couple of visits to the orthopedist, I decided to try physical therapy alone to get me back on (the) track. I read some research that said that six months post injury, the PT patients and the surgery patients are in the same place, recovery-wise. Even if the PT doesn't do it for me, it will put me in a better place if I have to have surgery.

My new PTs--and I have a team of three, for some reason--are friendly and knowledgeable. They tell me that my biggest problem right now is that I have really weak hips and quads. Because of that, my gait is screwed up, forcing my knees to do way more than they should as I walk. I have a daily routine of home exercises and weekly visits to the clinic to remedy all of this. In the meantime, they say I should really stop walking for exercise until my gait problems are fixed. This is honestly making me nuts. Walking boosts my mood, fights off stress, gets me my daily dose of sunlight and nature, and helps me ward off hot flashes. I took a 20-minute walk last night out of desperation, but my knee swelled up, so I guess I should listen to the experts.

I need to find another way to get some exercise. I thought I'd ride my bike last night, but I managed to jam the tire pump onto the valve, and I still can't get it off. My deep water exercise class ended, but I'm going to renew that membership. This injury is no big deal in the scheme of things, but it does make me cranky. I guess I should see this will to walk as motivation to do the PT exercises. The sooner I'm walking, the better!

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