Here We Go Again

The last leg of the Great Mold Removal of 2009 begins tomorrow. We are gutting the Master Bathroom, which was to be the Summer House Project before we found the mold, anyway. The other projects were painting the exterior and Taming the Jungle (the backyard), which we thought we would have to put off until next summer. At least.

Once we decided to put off getting a new fence, the backyard project was not as expensive as we had feared. So we contracted with our awesome landscaper, Mr. Torres. The downside of contracting with the landscaper is that they have to squeeze in the project work in between their regular maintenance work. The regular maintenance work is, of course, beholden to the weather. So our project has been half done since last Tuesday. Check it out:

If I remember correctly (from Alex's picture books) this is called a skid steer. It is sitting in my backyard because it was used to remove the pond my dad built in 1985.

Yes, I said a pond. I don't know if he was for real, but I remember him telling me that he would put fish in the pond. There were never fish in the pond, but I seem to remember seeing water flow that first summer. I don't really remember because that was just about when we first got cable.

These are the remnants:

Oh. And these stones. We are going to use them to reinforce the remnants of the old garden so that the mud doesn't run off and flood the neighbors:

We are also taking out various bushes and a couple of trees. I will spare you the pictures of that mess.

Here's what I have learned about landscaping - less is more. You can have grass. And maybe a tree. But make sure the tree is nowhere near the house. You don't know what those roots can do to the foundation. Wait, they can still get to the sewer line. Forget the tree. Go to the park if you want to look at a tree. Just grass.

So. Tomorrow morning Kiwi the Grey is going back to board at the rescue. She is still on the anti-fungal meds. My mother is taking the dog and going back to the hotel. Spooky the Cat and I are going to tough it out and stay here.

I am exhausted already.

Interior Decorating

I hate interior decorating. I’m not good at it and I don’t care enough. When I first started working, I sat at a 1960-something desk in what had once been a small storage room. From my chair, I was looking at a wall lined with old file cabinets – still in use.

I didn’t care. For those first three years, I was just tickled that I had an office with a door. When those file cabinets were finally moved, I put up a framed photomosaic of Darth Vader.

When we moved to fancy rented property, we all went on a tour of the area. The space was still being built out, and I have no sense of vision for these things, so it was lost on me. What I remember is that we were told that once we moved, we were not to be putting up our own stuff on the walls. We were to choose from among these particular pieces and a print would be framed and hung for us. We were to turn over our certifications for framing, as well.

Well. Being all individualistic, I was a bit offended by the concept. But I didn’t have any trouble at all with how it looked when we arrived. The furniture..the cabinets..it was all good. I missed (still miss) my old bookcase, but it was all good.

I may have told you that last year, when my bathroom was gutted, the contractor asked what I wanted. I said, “Exactly what I have now, but with new stuff.” He talked me into a couple of changes. Then I had to go to a showroom to pick out the new stuff. I was introduced to the guy and immediately apologized. I told him straight up that I hate everything. He asked me to be specific. “I hate everything frou-frou and I can’t stand that post-modern spa nonsense”. He told me that my style was “transitional” and I was in and out of there in an hour. I like my bathroom just fine, thanks.

Now my mother is going through it, but with a different contractor. There isn’t one showroom, just some preferred vendors and a general “get what you want”. I am totally useless. Mostly, when she tells me about something she saw, my response is, “I don’t care. Do what you want.”

We are also going through it with the new library space. We have a room, with a bit of latitude in how we set it up. How do we want the workspace set up? How high do we want the bookshelves to be? More light and airy or more room for stuff? More chairs for sitting or more room for storage? We had a meeting to discuss our options. My contribution?

“We’d better get what we can get now, because I do not believe for one second that there will be budget money left for us later.”

So I have gotten it from three sides. My problem, part of it anyway, is that I just can’t picture it. Whatever gift of vision or imagination is just not in me. HGTV? It is not unusual for me to like the “before” houses better.

Of course, it is possible that I am just lazy.

The Rug

I believe I mentioned that while I was in New Orleans, I custom-ordered a rug from a weaver in the French Quarter. They are woven from your average cotton quilting fabric. Besides being interesting looking, they are: Totally. Washable. As in you could throw it in the washing machine, if your washing machine was big enough. Or you could take it outside and hose it down on the driveway.

We needed a new rug. Before visiting this store I only knew of two kinds - the old oriental rugs and the cheap ones hanging from the ceiling at Bed Bath and Beyond or wherever. So when I saw these, I was pleased. We sent over the paintchips from all of the rooms on our first floor because we weren't sure if the rug would go in the family room or the front hall. I think my mother also sent her some fabric sample from a quilt she hasn't made yet. We expected to receive the order in 12 weeks, or the end of August.

A couple of days before I moved out of the house for the great mold elimination (which I am only mostly satisfied is over), I received an e-mail from Louisiana Loom Works saying my rug had shipped. It sat in my garage for a week. I wasn't home an hour before I tore open the box. My poor mother was still at the hotel with the dog. And the cat. So I sent her a picture:

The fabric is espresso brown, rather like our family room couch. It is woven together with brick red, the color of the kitchen walls, sage green, the color of the bird room, camel-beige, the color of our family room walls and black. This is how it looks in the front hall:

My mother thinks it makes our dark hall too dark. Her damn fault for insisting on those teeny windows in the front doors. Wherever it lands, we are very happy with the purchase.

Operation SporeKill

We are now in Day 5.

32 years of junk has been removed from the basement. Demolition is complete. Apparently, it took three trucks in addition to this dumpster to get rid of all the drywall, ceiling tiles and general crap that was down there. I recognized the teal slabs on top as being the doors that were there. I remember seeing the tile that was in the bathroom, and the sink. Gone...gone...gone.

They are down to washing every surface of every object on two levels of my house. It is only two because the upstairs was sealed off. I didn't dare to go inside, so all I could manage was this picture that came out as creepy as it felt to me, although it looks to dark to be translating well here. This is my front hallway leading to the staircase:

This will take 3-4 days. Sound like a long time? Think about your kitchen. When was the last time you removed every object from the cupboards to wash them? Every dish, every mug, every towel. Every pen in the junk drawer.

Back at the hotel, the pets seem to have adjusted. They each took about 24 hours. Spooky had the worst of it. He came with me on Sunday and stayed in my room. Tuesday morning, I took him to my mother's room while I went to work. When I came back, he had decided to stay with her. Except that she changed rooms on Wednesday. Poor cat doesn't know if he is coming or going. But so far, he hasn't taken it out on the carpet. I believe he is under the bed right now. This was from the first night. He still isn't looking me in the eye.

Shadow is a very amiable dog, but on his first day, Mom was at work, which messed him up. On his second day, the landscapers came and he went crazy. But the biggest drama, and biggest mess, is made by Kiwi. I made her go back into her carrier to eat because the crumbs are too much for me. Sorry for the glare.

I have laundry to do and Rich and Karen are getting married tomorrow and this is not a great time for me to be taking off work and now I'm just whining so I think I'll go read a book. Or play Diner Dash.

New Home for the Fish

My brother’s contribution to the great Mold Removal Project of 2009 was to take in the fish. They were actually his fish, anyway: he left them at the house when he moved out. Seven years ago.

First, he had to convince his wife. Then, he had to go to PetsMart with my mother to find a new set up. Then he had to build the new set up.

Yesterday, I brought him the fish:

The one in front is, in fact, a good ten years old. I just learned yesterday that his name is Raphael. Raphael is about twice the size that anyone remembered. Apparently he likes to spend his day hiding under things. My nephew, Alex, is calling the other two “the jaguar fish”. I am thinking their scales remind him of the jaguar on the Diego cartoon. I don’t argue with the boy. Except about football.

I brought the castles and the bridge. Alex picked out the Sponge Bob toy that you can just barely see peeking in from the right hand side of the picture. I guess that fish like Sponge Bob toys.

Update

Kiwi the Grey is boarding at the rescue. I took her in on Monday and she no longer finds it amusing. I plan to go in every day after work to give her the medicine, but today was my regular day to volunteer, anyway. She is displeased.

We have taken Shadow the Dog and Spooky the Cat to get tested for aspergillus antigens.

The work is starting on Monday and we have reservations at a local hotel that takes pets. I realize that I am not supposed to declare these things on the Internet, but anyone that wants to rob my house will have to break into a toxic waste zone to steal my 21 year old big screen TV.

Knock yourself out.

...

In other news, I called my allergist to whine that I am still reacting to my allergy shots. The nurse informed me that the doctor is on leave because he was in a bike accident. Broke his hip and his femur.

So then I had to shut up and count my blessings. That, I guess, is the lesson for the day.

Moldmoldmold

We have seen the mold guys are were informed that every living, breathing creature must vacate the premises while the work is being done. Seven to nine days. And I am pretty sure he meant working days.

Do you know how hard it is to find someplace for two women, one dog, one cat and one bird to live all at once at the same time without going broke? I briefly considered getting a short term lease on an apartment.

Ugh. We think we have it worked out. In the meantime, Shadow went to the vet because we think he might be fighting an infection, too.

Mold is the most horrible thing on Earth. But here is a picture of Kiwi, taking her medicine without complaint.

How many times a week do you think a Grey can have McDonald's?

Stupid, Stupid Aspergillus

Last Friday, after learning that Kiwi was fighting off aspergillus in her system, I went to get my allergy shot. Shots, actually. We separated them into two because several weeks ago, I starting having a skin reaction and I wanted to figure out which of the allergens was making me mad. Saturday, I found out – aspergillus. My allergist is dialing back my treatment.

Yesterday, the mold inspector came to the house. We knew there was some mold in the basement. Getting it waterproofed was the official project of the summer. There was a bit in my mother’s bathroom. And then some in the garage. The good news is that our attic is in great shape, which means that nothing is coming through the ceiling into the bedrooms. We will have the full report on air quality, types of mold and whether it is going to kill me on Monday.

In the meantime, twice a day I am spending 10 minutes arguing with Kiwi the Grey about taking her medicine. She has only bitten me once, but she keeps spitting it out. My powder room looks like someone took a super soaker filled with Pepto Bismol into there. Tomorrow, I am taking two birds into the vet for the Refuge and plan to grill him about this again.

Hating the mold.

Stupid Aspergillus

Last month, when we had the painting done downstairs, the painter said there was some mold behind the wallpaper in Kiwi's Room, formerly know as the dining room.

Crap.

Birds in general, and African Greys in particular, are really sensitive to mold. Aspergillosis, an infection caused by the aspergillus fungus, can be fatal.

Kiwi is no no way symptomatic, but two weeks ago, when she was at the vet for her annual exam, I mentioned the mold in that room. It was dead mold, and she had only been living in that area for a few months, but I was paranoid. The vet checked her out and she looks great. He checked her white blood count, which was perfectly normal. But because she is a Grey, we ran the labs.

$200 labs that has to ben sent off to the University of Miami. BTW.

It came back positive.

The bad news is this is scary stuff with long term treatment. And Kiwi is decidedly displeased with taking medicine. The good news is that we seem to be pretty far ahead of the game in diagnosis. My lame Internet research suggests that often, the reason aspergillosis kills the birds is that the symptoms come so late. In fact, now that I am thinking about it, I don't remember if Dr. Sakas said she actually has aspergillosis, or just that the aspergillus spores were present in her system.

Whatever. It is war on the fungus now. I happen to be allergic to aspergillus, so we are having an inspector come out to the house so that we can obliterate it.

In the meantime, Kiwi is going to have to learn to take her meds.

This is Obscene

The AP is reporting that Toledo, Ohio is ticketing residents for parking in their own driveways:

TOLEDO, Ohio - Residents of Toledo, Ohio, are complaining that they received $25 tickets for parking their vehicles in their own driveways.

Mayor Carty Finkbeiner says he stands by the citations handed out last week by the Division of Streets, Bridges and Harbor. He says the tickets were issued under a city law against parking on unpaved surfaces, including gravel driveways.

This, Ladies and Gentlemen, is beyond ridiculous. Every city is trying to find ways to make money, generally at our expense. And sometimes, if we are caught breaking the law through laziness or our presumptuous sense of entitlement, then so be it. But this?

Paving a driveway is not cheap. On, nevermind. I'm just going to get all worked up again.

Amazing What a Coat of Paint Can Do

While I was in New Orleans, we boarded Kiwi and had some painting done. I don't mean to turn this into the Home Renovation blog, but I suspect my mother sent me all of these pictures so that she could just send my link to her friends.

I believe I mentioned that we finally dismantled the old formal dining room and made it into a bird room. Before:

After:

And since Kay couldn't let the red go, the kitchen went from periwinkle (with Eloise and the pizza):

to chili pepper (with Kiwi on the fridge):

Finally the family room that went from 1977 dark wood paneling:

To some dull thing called "camel" which will be covered with art. Darth Vader has been banished:

Someone that is clearly not me decided that the furniture should be moved.The point is that a new paint job can do wonders for one's perspective and I think in a cost/benefit analysis of happiness it really can't be beat.

Guillermo the Awesome Terminix Guy

Sunday night, I saw some ants on the floor of my bedroom. I have wood laminate floors in the bedroom, so they were very easy to spot and smash. By the time I had killed six, I pulled out the pet friendly Orange Guard (pictured because I couldn’t make myself post a picture of the actual bug) and sprayed. I believe I killed two dozen ants in my room that night.

Monday night, there were a few more ants and this other tiny bug that I didn’t recognize. Then, when an ant crawled across my computer keyboard, I went crazy. I sprayed every corner of the room, then stripped my bed and changed the sheets.

Then wiped up the spray, per the instructions and vacuumed.

My mother asked me to bring her one of the “new” bugs. She got online and searched and thought it might be a carpet beetle. She called Terminix. The front office said that our guy, Guillermo, was scheduled to come out on Friday to do a regular outdoor spray and couldn’t come any sooner. As if I would last that long. She called Guillermo’s cell phone. He said he would stop by after his last appointment.

Moral of the story: always know how to reach your guy directly.

Guillermo arrived as promised, identified the bug as a carpet beetle (even though there is no carpet in the room) and mixed his spray of perfectly pet friendly stuff to stop the madness. I told him how irritated I was that the first time since I have lived in this house I have a relatively clean bedroom and this is the first time bugs have invaded. He assured me it was nothing that I did and they probably just hatched somewhere.

We asked if he’d been busy lately. Crazy busy, apparently. Mice or bugs? Both. Plus rats and roaches. I didn’t ask any more questions – just felt grateful.

Terminix service costs a couple hundred dollars a year. Right now I am feeling like it was a great investment. As long as we can reach Guillermo directly.

Check Out My Backyard

Why, you ask, is a lone adirondack chair sitting in the middle of the lawn? It is covering this:

The other day after work, I hear my mother scream. Which is not unusual. But this was something slightly more panicked than normal and I thought it might have involved the dog's name so I dragged myself outside to look.

He had killed a baby bunny. This is a baby-bunny hole. Some mama bunny thought the middle of my damn backyard where Shadow the Dog lives would be a good place to plant the babies.

And P.S. - a cooper's hawk lives in the neighborhood.

So we put the chair over the hole and have been walking Shadow on a leash. How long before baby bunnies leave the nest?

And the New Doors

The front hall is much darker now that we have the smaller windows way up there. Our compromise was I wanted to keep the double door concept and she wanted something that a burgler couldn't smash to reach an arm in and unlock the door. Everyone is happy.

The doors are fiberglass, rather than metal. I would never know the difference there. But I must say I was surprised by the change in noise level. The echo we started hearing a month or so ago (when we replaced carpet with laminate in one room) is that much more pronounced. And oh, my. When the dog barks.

Before

As we speak, new front doors are being put on my house. Unfortunately, my "Before" shot was an afterthought as I was leaving for work today:




Why, yes. They are very 1977. I could go on a complete rant about the silly looking fancy-schmancy doors going up around my neighborhood these days. And take pictures. And write about how the people who caught me taking pictures probably think that I am taking pictures so that I can find something just like it.

But I am much too lazy.

A Productive Weekend

I took my last Accounting quiz on Saturday. The final exam isn't until next Saturday, so it felt like I had an almost free weekend. I started it rearranging my library, and filling those new bookshelves. I won't be "done" until I finish importing all of my music to iTunes. Then I will box up all of those CDs.

I trashed an old bookcase from Target (or wherever) to fit in the new shelves and spread out my history books. Lots of room to grow in those, but I didn't seem to make any room for fiction. So I pulled out my mother's old quilting magazines and my father's old home improvement books. That should hold me for awhile.

Then I sat in front of the television and watched a movie. Glory was on cable and, to my shame, I had never seen it. I don't suppose it counts as spoilers 20 years later, but fair warning:

My mother was walking by and said, "You know this doesn't end well, right?" I figured as much, since it is a war movie. "So everyone dies?" I ask. "Pretty much. One person lives," she replied. "Is it Denzel?" I ask. "I think so."

Lies! Upon angry Anne interrogation, it was revealed that no one can possibly remember the details of a film one saw 20 years ago. Anyway, I am glad I saw it. And then I finished reading a book. A real book. And imported more music.

Today, a guy we know came to take away our old dining room set. It was a very nice set, but was in desperate need in refinishing. He got the furniture and we got a whole room for the birds! Pictures to come at a later date. Kiwi the Grey seems to have adjusted, but the lack of carpet has created a terrible echo whenever the dog starts barking.

I have been reading another real book. I expect to finish it tonight. I made dinner - pizza on a fresh flatbread crust that my grocery store just started making - while watching a PBS special on Fats Domino and New Orleans. Seriously. On PBS. Not some random cable channel like OTV. Good old local PBS is telling me to go to New Orleans.

And for the first time since Rainman, I am completely skipping the Oscars. It is rather liberating. Since there is no House marathon, I have completely turned off the television. It is going to be a long week, but at least I feel like I accomplished something.

What I Did on My Saturday

Each Holiday Season my mother, like many people, goes on a frenzied cleaning spree. Such that I don't want to be in the house. And then she gets angry because I'm not helping and I want to be in the house even less.

This afternoon she wanted to put up the Christmas tree. I wanted to start the cleaning and avoid the madness. But nothing sounded good to me because if we do hard core cleaning now - the kind that involves moving furniture and electric scrub brushes and steam cleaners - it will just have to be done again before Christmas. At the same time, if we do the vacuuming and dusting now, she will just want to do it again Thursday morning.

Here is what I came up with:




That, ladies and gentlemen, is my pantry. It is cleaned out for real about every five years. I know this because the oldest expiration date I found on a can of soup was 2003. And the clean out time before that was when Geoffrey was still living in the house, so it was either 1998 or 1999.

Someday, I will remember to do a "Before" pic. But not today. And now I am tired.

Also Waiting For Me

I came home yesterday. Let the dog outside. Threw my clothes in the washing machine. Let the birds out to play. Read the mail. Eventually made my way upstairs to my bedroom.

Something was wrong. Someone had been in here. And I couldn't put my finger on it - which isn't really odd because I don't notice anything in my house. You could rearrange my living room furniture and lay odds that I won't notice. Then I saw it:

Well. There wasn't actually a dish in the room, but the new remote was tied up in a bow. My mother had gotten me satellite DVR for my bedroom while I was out of town.

I have been very cranky since the "digital TV" announcement because I have never had cable in my bedroom and my TV works perfectly well, thank you. Although sometime I should tell you about buying that TV and discovering that I had to go back to Best Buy to purchase an antenna because they no longer come standard.

DirectTV guy did not hook my stuff back up properly, so the TV is not connected to the stereo receiver and I can't watch my DVD player. My brother is coming this weekend to fix it because he didn't like the way I set it up last time. But so many channels. I was going to pick up that Solzhenitsyn book last night but then. On VH1:

Live at Wembley. I might never read another book again.

It is done.

I am exhausted from trying to put by bathroom back together. But thrilled to be able to shower in my own shower. Here are some more bad pictures. First is the finished vanity. Eight drawers!

The lights, which really mask the paint color. Which is fine because I meant it to be a pale sage-like color and it came out rather minty. The "before" picture would have shown you the icy blue brother to this minty tone, so it is all rather cozily familiar. Oh, and the mirror has panels that are on there yet. We meant this to be recessed, but some pipes or something made it impossible. Whatever.

Perhaps a better view of the tub. You know what rocks? I have had the same shower curtain for about ten years. And it still matches this. You might ask why I want to keep the same shower curtain. It is machine washable. And I like it. And I generally hate everything else.

And finally the commode, which seems much smaller. Why is that? Because the vanity is much higher now. The one single thing I learned in this process is that counter tops were lower to the ground because sinks were actually bowls, rising that much higher off the surface. Now that sinks, you know, sink, there is no reason to have kiddie sized counters. Unless you have kiddies. I do not.

I can't wait to go get my birds tomorrow.

What is the Centerpiece of the Bathroom?

Last weekend, I spent Sunday afternoon removing every last thing from the cabinets and shelves. I left for Washington Monday morning, to minimize the number of days I would have to (gasp) share a bathroom with another human being.

When I returned Thursday night, I lamented that I hadn't taken any "Before" pictures. You know, to show the Internet.My mother, with whom I share this house, replied that she would be too embarrassed to show the "Before" pictures anyway.

By Friday afternoon, the job still wasn't complete. This is not a complaint, in that I understand that tearing apart an entire bathroom and putting it all back together takes time. But that is also three more days that the birds are boarding, and I don't like that, either.

However, it did give me the opportunity to take a few bad "In Process" pictures:

The bath tub is installed. With tiles!

The vanity is sort of there:



You can see the lights are there. Kinda:

Where the toilet should be. But where is the toilet?

It's like "Where's Waldo?" In my garage:

I am amazed at how disruptive home improvement projects are. My hat is way off for people that can Do it Yourself.