Remodeling Again - Week 2- 4: We Got Rot!

Sorry for the long delay. We've been working like dogs and every muscle in my body hurts. When last we left the remodel it was week one. It's now week four and I've been shitting in a porta potty for way too long; the novelty has worn off. Otherwise, construction is moving along at a hefty pace.

While tearing out walls we discovered three important facts about the house:

1. The original section of the house, built in the late 1800s, was a barn
2. The barn was built on the dirt - without a foundation
3. The wall behind the old tub/shower is completely rotted

I should have known something was wrong when during demolition the tile and Sheetrock (yes, Sheetrock around a shower) literally fell off of the wall. Underneath were randomly spaced 2x4s that, in most cases, were completely rotted. How this load-bearing exterior wall has held up the second floor all these years is mind-boggling. There was also rotted framing for what at one time could only have been a barn door (what us modern folk call a "garage door" today). The foundation, such as it was, consisted of 4x6s laid on the dirt. Surprisingly, they weren't rotting. Not so surprising, there is no way we can pass inspection with things the way they are.



Hello Lou The Foundation Guy. Goodbye $8000.00.

Although this project is still within budget, 23ft of new foundation was a big hit to my "reserves". On the bright side, we'll have a sturdy room to run to when the big one hits, assuming the house doesn't fall down before we get the new foundation and wall built.

Naturally, this was all discovered at the same time a week-long rain storm hit the bay area, bringing progress to a halt.

Just Beautiful

Matt Alber's video brings up a lot of emotion for me. It's wonderful.

http://www.tommyboy.com/audio/streams/maflv/mavid.html

Hilarious Promos

The promos for the Seattle Lesbian and Gay film festival are HI-larious...

A Peek At The Past

We're pulling handmade, 130 year-old nails out of the house.
When these nails were made;

• World War One was decades away


• The Panama Canal didn't exist


• Jesse James was at large


• Charles Darwin hadn't argued his case


• Only 5 percent of the country had indoor plumbing


• The Eifel Tower was just a blueprint


• There were only 45 States

How cool is that?

Remodeling Again - Week 1

After the sewer lateral blew up, and the plumbers had to tear out our floors, we decided to go for the long-discussed Bathroom and Laundry Room remodel. Though the process began 8 months ago, we just got the permits and started demolition! We're using my design and with the guidance of an hourly carpenter, my friend Tim, I'm doing the work myself. God help us all...

Before


Week 1
As expected, 100 years of redo on this house left a maze of wiring and plumbing. The first step was to get the plumber and electrician to move everything. Of course the old laundry shack was the nerve center of the house, so the job was extensive.



During the removal of the deck our electricians threatened to walk off the job because of the noise. I felt the need to remind them that they were, indeed, electricians and this was a construction site. They were welcome to walk off the job; in this economy it wouldn't be hard to find an electrician that wants my $10K and is willing to buy earplugs. In the contracting hierarchy I think that electricians are definitely the Primadonnas of the lot.




Tim and I, hard at work. We started the jack-hammer the day after the electricians were ready to strike. Something I said must have changed their minds; they didn't make a peep about the noise.


Buster, who has been staying with us, had enough of the fucking jack-hammer!

Where Were You When You Were Needed?

I'm not much for A, B or C list "celebrities" spouting their take on current affairs, it seems to flow with the need of the moment, but I really like the over-all message here. Though it makes me ponder; where were you before November 4th?...

See more Jack Black videos at Funny or Die

Feeling Heavy

I am wasting my life hoping the people in my life change into those I want in my life.

It's time to change my life...

My boys and squirrels: A story of love and hate

Bolinas Bay

It was a beautiful Saturday for a ride. Tom, Kris, John and I headed out to Bolinas Bay for the day. At the top of Mount Tam we ate our lunch and watched the hang-gliders take off. What a sight! It was a great time and we all made it home in one piece.

Change Is Good

I was speaking with my right-wing republican sister today and she was griping about Obama raising taxes. The man isn't even in office yet and the complaining has started!

Well, let's take a minute and complain about something that has actually happened:

• We have the highest deficit ever.


• We are fighting two costly wars, one unjustified.


• Our economy has tanked.


• Unemployment is the highest it's been in 20 years and still rising.


• Corporate raiders (CEOs) have run giant corporations into the ground with no oversight.


• Our international standing is a joke.


• And guess what? My taxes are higher under Bush than any of his predecessors.

Obama has to come in and fix the mess that the republican administration has created. If we have to pay higher taxes to do it, there is nobody to blame but the people who got us into this mess.

Dear Sister, your party had their chance, and blew it. I'm not really interested in hearing anyone that voted for Bush complain about what needs to happen so we can recover from his presidency.

Step back, shut up, and give your new president a chance. He can't possibly make anything worse.

Well Said!

I'm actually not a big Keith Olberman fan, I find him a little too pompous at times, but this is the most passionate speech against Prop 8 that I have heard.

Thank you Mr. Olberman.

What Was I Thinking?

We bought a great new area rug for the bedroom and I was cutting padding for underneath. My box knife blade was dull so I changed it. I didn't have a phillips-head screw driver handy, but I did have my cordless screw gun. So I tightened the bolt on the knife with the screw gun...




=

What was I thinking?

Year-Round Halloweeen

I don't like costumes. I'm not talking about Halloween costumes, I've been known to go all out for a good costume party, but the costumes that some members of society wear as a daily statement. The man in Starbucks buying a soy non-fat latte, wearing cowboy boots, cowboy hat and a belt buckle that spells his name in 6" gold letters makes me chuckle inside. The muscle-man who dons motorcycle boots, leather chaps and a cod piece for a stroll through the Castro each Saturday night usually invokes an appreciative glance followed by a roll of my eyes and a mean-spirited smirk.

Perhaps I'm being judgmental, but if you're not chewing tobacco on a ranch in Montana, or riding with the local chapter of the Hells Angels, what's the point? It's just a costume, right?

My First Costume:
Dominick and I went to Palm Springs a few months back. He had been invited to a friends "Leather" party, and everyone had to wear at least one piece of leather. Just so you know, my wardrobe consists of shorts, jeans and t-shirts. Throw in some sweat pants, sweat shirts, underwear, socks, several pair of tennis shoes and hiking boots and you've got the contents of my closet. There may be a dusty suit, and fancy dress shoes in the back too. None of it made from animal hide. I hate clothes shopping.

With the help of my straight girl-friend Nick, who LOVES to shop, I found a nice pair of semi-hiking, semi-motorcycle boats that my jeans hide nicely. I figure I'd wear boots more than, say, a leather vest with chrome nipple-ring hooks. Though a vest would have been easier to haul to Palm Springs.

The day of the party, Dominick and I decided to spend some time by the pool tanning and take advantage of the pool-side food and beverage service. Several cocktails and appetizers later we decide to blow off the party. I pack up my boots, bring them home and put them in my closet next to the fancy dress shoes and dusty suit.

My Second Costume:
A few weeks ago my friend Kyle talked me into Two-Step lessons at a country/western bar in the city. I was surprised to discover that I enjoy it! It's a fun night out, you get a little exercise, and we usually top it off with a huge dinner at a nice restaurant, to compensate for the little exercise.

One problem; When Two-Stepping your feet don't leave the floor. It's important to have leather soles that slide easily. Kyle, being a real rodeo cowboy from Alabama, who wears a belt buckle the size of my ass, and drives a big truck, mentioned this before our first lesson. I searched my closet and, as expected, all my shoes have rubber soles, including the fancy dress shoes in the back by the dusty suit. I pick the pair with what I hope is the least traction and head out for the first lesson. It went well, except for the persistent squeak as I moved about the dance floor.

For the second lesson I decide to wear my new, unused leather boots. This time the squeak was deafening and I spent the night clomping around the floor doing my best not to squeak, which fucked up my timing. I need new shoes. I hate shopping.

It makes sense, if I'm going to keep taking dance lessons at a country western bar, I should buy cowboy boots. Of course I haven't a clue where to buy cowboy boots in the Bay Area, but a quick search of yahoo yellow pages comes up with El Corral Western Wear on International Blvd in Oakland. The very same International Blvd in Oakland where every murder that has ever happened in Oakland, has happened. God I hate shopping!

Amazingly, it's a Doris Day moment and there is parking right in front. After rushing through the entrance and feeling for my wallet (and bullet or knife wounds), I discover a well appointed store with a huge assortment of western wear for men, women and kids. There was country music playing softly, racks of cowboy clothes, walls of cowboy boots and hats, and attentive staff ready to help. It was like walking into the Macy's Cowboy Department. Who knew?

With the help of Marco I picked out a modest pair of reasonably priced cowboy boots with leather soles. At the checkout counter Marco pointed out that they have belts in matching leather. It's an impulse buy, but what the hell, might as well match.

The third lesson went great! Not a squeak to be heard, and I'm actually getting it down. We worked up a good sweat, and ate a reasonable dinner after. The boots took a little breaking in, but are very comfortable so it's turning out to be a win-win. One thing though, the buckle on the belt is made of the same leather and looks stupid. I need a new one. Maybe something in gold with my name...

My Third Costume:
Since buying my new motorcycle I've kept mainly to Alameda and Oakland with a couple jaunts on the freeway for practice. I'm getting much more confident and decided it was time for a weekend road trip. A while back, I had joined a local riding club and met some nice guys willing to take a newbie under their wings. Four of us decided to head up to Balinas Bay Saturday.

During my Safe Rider course they naturally stress protective gear. I have a full face helmet, gloves, hiking boats and a heavy cloth jacket that I wear with jeans. It meets their requirements, but full leathers are recommended. Additionally, several members of the riding club pointed out that; not only does leather offer the best protection, but the best warmth. As our weather has cooled I had indeed noticed that my jeans did very little to keep my legs warm. I need to buy some leathers. I hate shopping...

It was relatively painless to find chaps online; the Motorcycle Superstore has a huge selection of gear at good prices, so I ordered my chaps. Then I got to thinking; how stupid would I look wearing leather chaps and a jean-jacket? And there is a motorcycle jacket that matches the chaps. On the trip to Balinas Bay I was well protected by my new chaps, jacket and boots, and I looked HOT! All I'm missing is a cod-piece for my chaps and I'm ready for the Castro.

Maybe I've been too hard on costumes.

Funny...

Political Roleplay - get the kids out of the room

glumbert - Couple roleplays the political way

An Election Pre-Read

I don't normally turn to Rolling Stone for political commentary, but this editorial says what we've all been thinking. It's long-form journalism so get a cup of coffee, settle into a comfortable chair and enjoy.

History Is Our Friend - Pay Attention

http://keatingeconomics.com

Sorry, but I love Tina Fey's "Palin"

VOTE!

Siamese Twins

Every time this plant flowers it puts out one Siamese flower. Usually it has two stems fused together and produces two separate flowers. This time they were joined at the the stem and pistil, which made for a very cool flower. Notice the spider web in the side photo. I watched him build it (I need a life) and he's going to catch a lady bug that's been hanging around. I feel for the lady bug and am wrestling with playing God, but I think I'll let nature take it's course.

Love It

Yes, another video

I hate blogs that do nothing but post videos, as I've been doing recently. But this one cracks me up every time...

http://creativity-online.com/work/view?seed=349ffa2b

Religulous

A new addition to the family

And now, my mid-life crisis is complete.

Roscoe On Drugs

While at the grocery store yesterday I indulged in a Scharffenberger 82% Cacao Bar. At bed time I snuggled into bed, put on an episode of American Dad and ate half the bar, savoring ever bite, as they teach you to do on the chocolate tour. I carefully wrapped up the rest, placing it on the night stand for a repeat performance tonight.

This morning, after returning from errands, I found the smallest fragment of the wrapper on the living room rug. Roscoe, you bastard! Tasha and Frankie don't take things off of tables or night stands. We're still getting used to the fact that Roscoe helps himself to anything he can reach. He's gone so far as to pull a plate of food off of the coffee table while I was eating from it.

Knowing that chocolate is poisonous to dogs, I called the vet. We were able to determine that the amount he ate was not close to toxic levels, but it might give him a jolt. Sort of like drinking a gallon of strong coffee. When it kicked in, Roscoe went crazy nuts!

It started with him barking at nothing. Then he walked around the kitchen panting and whining for 15 minutes. Then he laid down and bit his nails and kept putting his leg in his mouth and gnawing on it. If I moved a muscle, he would run to my side and butt his head against me. If the other dogs even looked at him he would snarl and whine at the same time. Then he started to butt his head against furniture and walls. All the while he was chain-smoking. After about 45 minutes he fell asleep on his bed and hasn't moved.

Being a child of the 60's I feel bad for the little guy. I know what a bad trip can be like.

Headline Alameda: Gary Coleman is in the house

So yesterday I was sitting at my desk in the sunroom, with the windows open, when I hear someone speaking loudly on a cell phone. They were standing in the drive way of the apartments next door and being the Gladys Kravitz sort of neighbor that I am, I crept to the fence and peered through the lattice. It's Gary Fucking Coleman standing 8 feet away (by the red pole in the picture) gabbing on his phone! WTF?


I immediately ran inside and called Ken in Singapore. Something he said, I think it was; "did you take a picture?", reminded me that we own a camera. By the time I got back to the fence Gary had walked down the street to where two gentlemen were trying to start an old Lincoln Towncar. The car is still parked on the side of the road.

How trippy is that?

This world of ours is just amazing!

A message...

Well, she was precious like a flower
She grew wild, wild but innocent
A perfect prayer in a desperate hour
She was everything beautiful and different

Stupid boy, you can't fence that in
Stupid boy, it's like holding back the wind
she laid her heart and soul right in your hands
And you stole her every dream and you crushed her plans
She never even knew she had a choice and that's what happens
When the only voice she hears is telling her she can't
Stupid boy, stupid boy
Oh

So what made you think you could take a life
And just push it push it around
I guess you build yourself up so high
You had to take her and break her down

she laid her heart and soul right in your hands
And you stole her every dream and you crushed her plans
She never even knew she had a choice and that's what happens
When the only voice she hears is telling her she can't
You stupid boy

Oh, you always had to be right but now you've lost
The only thing that ever made you feel alive
Yeah, yeah

Well, she laid her heart and soul right in your hands
And you stole her every dream and you crushed her plans
Yes, ya did
She never even knew she had a choice and that's what happens
When the only voice she hears is telling her she can't
You stupid boy, oh, I'm the same old
Same old stupid boy

It took awhile for her to figure out she could run
But when she did, she was long gone
Long gone, long gone
Ah, she's gone

Nobody's ever gonna love me like she loved me
And she loved me, she loved me
God please, just let her know
I'm sorry, I'm sorry
I'm sorry, I'm sorry
Baby, yeah, I'm down on my knees
She's never coming back to me

Keith Urban - Stupid Boy

Just Dance!

I stole this from Erica's blog. I'm not sure why, but this left me feeling very upbeat. I want to dance all over the world too!

Where have I been?

Sorry for the long delay in updating this blog. I'm sure you have all been on pins and needles wondering what Steve has been up to. Allow me to recap.

• Went to Oklahoma to visit Peggy and had the best vacation EVER!


• Our sewer lateral exploded and left our bathroom and laundry room without floors


• We are doing a major remodel of the bathroom and laundry room (see previous item)


• After a year and a half, I finally got my FAA medical


• I'm taking Graphics and Flash Director classes


• Kevin came to visit from Toronto - Hooray!


• Kevin and I went to Palm Springs and acted like we were 21 for a few days, then spent the next week recovering, because we're not 21 anymore


• Went to the True Colors Tour with Mark, Charles and Kevin. Cyndi Lauper ROCKED and Mark scored us 2nd row ticket upgrades, so Mark ROCKS too
  
  
• Jean and Kevin are moving back to Alameda - Double Hooray!


• I had my first (and last) Sigmoid Oscopy

Open Your Checkbooks, You Cheap Bastards!

I know the economy sucks right now, but please help me support a great cause, and get a write-off!

This Is Cool!

SURPRISE!!!

This weekend Ken and I flew to the Windy City for his sister's 60th birthday on Saturday. It was a surprise party planned by her husband Gary and kids Tami and Andy, though word on the street is; Tami didn't do much.

We flew out Friday morning and, thanks to Ken's miles, were upgraded to first class, which is always dandy. The adventure really began after arriving at O'Hare and grabbing the blue-line to Chicago. We emerged from the underground for our 3-block walk to the hotel just as the sky opened up with a torrential rain. We ran for the best shelter available and began to dig for our umbrellas, which we conveniently packed at the bottom of our bags. After running most of the way we arrived at the hotel just as the rain stopped. F*ck you and your sick sense of humor Mother Nature! We spent the rest of the evening relaxing.

Saturday we immediately headed over to Portillo's for lunch. They have the best Italian Beef sandwiches in town, and we always make sure to visit them at least once. After bumming around the city we cleaned up and headed to the party at a restaurant in Greek Town.

It was great to see some family and friends again and Barb was thoroughly surprised. She seemed very pleased to see Jill from Seattle and Ken had both made the trip to wish her Happy Birthday. Barb was hardly cranky from age at all.

We consumed major amounts of delicious Greek food including flaming cheese, one of my favorites. Once everyone was stuffed we played "Barb Bingo", a game created by Gary to bring attention to significant dates and numbers in Barb's life. It involved a lot of boisterous laughing and Gary had the chance to use his classroom skills to bring us into focus more than once. After dinner Barb, Gary, Jill, Ken and I went for a nightcap before retiring our bloated bellies for the night.

Sunday was spent walking Chicago. It really is a very beautiful city. The architecture is inspiring and it's one of the cleanest metropolitan areas I've ever visited. Unfortunately, Chicago only has six weeks a year with weather suitable for sustaining my life.

Later in the day we met up with Gary, Barb, and Tami for lunch hooking up with Andy, fresh from a softball game, in route. Since we were walking by, we stopped into a hotel to look at one of his recent engineering projects. For the hotel lobby remodel Andy engineered the new staircase.

Hmmm, what's wrong with this picture?

After meeting everyone else for lunch a good old fashion gab-fest ensued and we camped at our outdoor table forever, ignoring the wicked stares from the staff. After parting ways Barb joined Ken and I to finish our walking tour, ending with a quest for Garret's Popcorn, one of Barb's favorites (it really is good). We finished the day with another visit to Portillo's. You may have noticed, but we like to eat on vacation.

Monday we checked out the Chicago Merchandise Mart, which is THE center for interior design. We toured beautiful rooms full of ridiculously priced, impractical furnishings and found ourselves wishing my weekly lottery investment would pay off. They're still cleaning my drool out of the $16,000.00 bathtub I fell in love with.

We were near Andy's office so we met up with him for lunch and a final goodbye then it was off to the airport. Thanks again to Ken's miles, we were upgraded for the return as well. It was a nice way to end a really nice weekend.

Happy Birthday Barb!

What does "Cute as a button" mean anyway?

My grand-niece Keely

Just Like Jesus

I took my first class in carpentry this week. It was a three-day intensive learning course, and we each built a sofa table. HOT DIGGITY DAMN! I can build shit now! Just like Jesus.

As fate would have it, I recently signed up for a local Freecycle yahoo group. Freecycle is a network of people who have useful things they don't need, and other people who want them. It could be a 4-pack of AAA batteries or a set of living room furniture. The theory being, rather than throwing it into our over-flowing landfills, give it to someone who will use it. It sounds very green.

I noticed something disturbing though; everything I have given away has been retrieved by someone driving a large, comfy, SUV. It seems to me, that if you're going to make an extra trip to pick up a free pack of baby-wipes in your 8-cylinder Excursion, while the kids, safely tucked into the air-conditioned back, play MurderDeathKill XII on the entertainment center, you aren't scoring too many carbon points. Doesn't that defeat the whole purpose?

But I digress...

During the lunch break on day two of carpentry class I came home and checked my email. Holy crap, some guy was giving away a jointer! For those of you that haven't taken a basic carpentry class, and now know everything about all tools, like me, a jointer is a table saw that makes bent wood flat. That's a really cool thing and they start at like $500 for a new one! Who cares if this thing is 20 years old and has a broken table? It was free, and once I sink $600-$700 into it I can build that Master Suite we've always wanted.

So I load up the kids in the SUV and we head down the street to pick up my free, broken jointer and who is laying on the guy's front porch? Flash, his "off duty" seeing eye dog. How cool is that?! It's not often you get a chance to rub a service dog all over, so I did. He's a big, sweet, lovable Black Lab that willingly gave me his belly. I think I liked that even more than getting a free saw or building a new table.

Overall the class was a lot of fun, and I really did learn a lot. Not to mention that my dove-tail joints are better than anything Jesus could have made, Craftsman Jigsaw or not!

Sins of the Flesh

You know what grinds my gears? The octogenarian at the gym who insists on dragging a bench out from the relative isolation between the lockers to the sinks, where he proceeds to prop up a foot and dry himself off in the main public area of the locker room. WTF? Why must we watch as he lifts burlap sacks of silly putty, that once functioned as skin, to pat his moles and skin tags dry? It's a horrifying display of equipment that hasn't functioned since Nixon was making audio mixes. So why do it there, where everyone who enters or exits the room has to bear witness?

I know, I know, I know. One day I'm going to be old and my skin is going to turn on me too. I can already see the signs in my graying hair, my relentless spare tire and the delightful melody of snaps, crackles and pops my bones make when I get out of bed in the morning. But I can guarantee that when I have mashed-potatoes for balls I'll know to stop drying my brown eye with the electric hand dryer that hangs on the wall near the door...

And that's what grinds my gears.

What Passover Means To Me

20 Friends and Family
Food and Wine for 50
An attempt by all, to consume all

It's like Thanksgiving with a reading assignment.

The company was great
The food was delicious
The cake was a hit

Thanks Emily!

Honey Cake

Saturday is Passover and as Ken's shiksa I was asked to make a Honey Cake, which is a traditional Passover dessert comparable to Fruit Cake at Christmas; you have some, but you don't like it.

I tried two different so-so recipes for the standard Honey Cake and then I stumbled onto a recipe for Chocolate Orange and Honey Cake. The ingredient that caught my eye...

1 1/2 Pounds Semi-Sweet Baking Chocolate

I think any cake recipe that calls for pounds of chocolate is just really super and must be made. This year I'm going to bend tradition; pass the insulin please.

Roscoe Joins The Pack

We have a new puppy dog. Actually, we've had him for a couple months. He was a "foster dog from an organization in San Francisco, Rocket Dog Rescue. We found the rescue through a newspaper article about the founder. After a fairly tragic life, this wonderful woman rescued a dog off the street and the bond she developed with him gave her the strength to pull herself up, dust off her knees, and rebuild her life. Rocket Dog Rescue was born. Their main mission is to visit local shelters, take death row inmates at the 11th hour, and find homes for them.

Since I'm not working regularly right now I decided to find a volunteer activity to fill my time. I wanted it to be something that I was passionate about, and dogs seemed the logical choice. After seeing the article WE decided to become a foster home for dogs. I say “we”, but truth be told, I didn't give Ken much of a say in the process. He knows when it comes to dogs and me, don't get in the way. He once asked me: “If Tasha and I were falling off a cliff, and you could only save one of us, who would it be?”. Of course it was a rhetorical question. Sorry Babe, I've known Tasha for longer, and she doesn't talk back as often.

Anyway, on a beautiful sunny day in San Francisco I met with Kay from Rocket Dog and was introduced to Rascal (who became Roscoe).


Nobody knows his story; he was found wondering the streets of SF and only three of his legs work. The vet thinks he's probably 10-12 years old, and believes he was injured many years back and never treated. He can move the leg at the “thigh” but can't bend it at the “knee” or “ankle”. It winds up being this “wing” sort of thing that is always in the way. It's sad and yet comical to see. He's obviously used to it because it doesn't slow him down in the least.

As I do with all dogs, we bonded immediately. I don't know what it is with me, but I haven't met I dog I don't love. And they seem to love me too. I think it's because we can relate to each other. Deep down (maybe not that deep), I'm just another flea-bitten hound.

Of course I agreed on the spot to foster “Rascal” and brought him home. Upon arrival Tasha and Frankie greeted him with their usual barking, growling, sniffing, humping and running around. Roscoe couldn't have cared less and began his quest for the holy grail of dogs, the food bowl. After who knows how long on the streets he doesn't miss an opportunity to eat!

Now it was time to introduce him to Ken. The big lug is just as much of dog lover as I am, even though they always love me more. Ken was very skeptical of being a foster home, being worried about my ability to give up a dog I had bonded with. Please, like I'm that weak. I knew what I was getting into. This is to help as many dogs as we can, not just one. As part of being a foster home for Rocket Dog you agree to bring your foster pup to adoption fairs that the rescue holds each weekend. I agreed to a minimum of two a month. I made it to one.

Long story short (too late), we've decided to make our house Rascal's new permanent home. I'll let you know what Ken thinks about it after he reads this blog and finds out. He won't be surprised, he knows me too well!