Mabel & Galusha

2006-12-07T12:48:00.000-08:00

Like a reverse movie, I'm going to put the credits on top as I wrap up this blog and focus on the next adventure: bookbinding (see thebindery.blogspot.com -- woohoo).

I already finished a long-held commission and am putting together a Chinese-bookbinding workshop starting in mid-January. Space is limited, so if you're interested e me at Manaobooks at gmail.com.

The studio is so suited and essential to this fresh, uh, chapter in life that I can't believe it was just a patch of weeds two years ago.

Here's the people who helped make everything happen, with hopes I haven't missed anyone:

• Mom, for seeing the spaces before anyone else could
• Dad, for taking me to the hardware store
• the banker, for looking after Galusha
• the architect, for the tower tip and listening & executing
• the pro-forma magician, who took out the fear factor
• the builder and his crew, for the care and the craft
• my friends, who put up with constant overscheduling
• my co-workers, who overheard much of it
• Grok God, for endless classy publications (and outlining!)
• Dwell magazine, for inspiration
• my family, for understanding the obsession
• and Mabel and Galusha, for being there first

2006-10-24T15:56:00.000-07:00

This morning as I was going out for my ritual cappuccino I was amazed to see my fave member of the builder's crew trundling up the driveway with his big ladder in hand. I kid you not. I was so happy I hugged him.

After ten months of pestering the builder, one rainy season and another one looming, we were finally going to get the roof patched! Yippee!

Except.

Soon as the guy tilts up the ladder on the house, climbs high, and
disappears out of sight, the clouds start roiling. And the rain starts
coming. Then it officially poured.

It was so dramatic, like the time the guy in China was going to give me the all-important stamp to renew my visa in Beijing: His hand pushed the seal down hard in the inkpad, he lifted his fist -- I held my breath, transfixed -- ... and the phone rang. His hand dropped weakly to the side of my visa form, despite all my ESP urgings for it to fall directly upon it, and a lot of fast Mandarin followed.

Let's just say I didn't get the visa.

And let's just say the roof isn't fixed.

2006-10-17T14:38:00.000-07:00

After months of no posts, I'm back to the blog -- for a few reasons:

1. I miss it, the chance to meld the details into cohesive blurbs. 2. I've got my second wind of love going for Mabel, now that the bookbinding studio's in business -- yay! And 3. It's funny (not really), but the house isn't done yet.

Granted the punchlist now is tiny, but the glacial speed at which it is attacked is, well, unperceptible. One might even say nonexistent, but that sounds foreboding.

More than anything, I'd like to know those roof leaks are patched, and I'd love to get the blinds back up in the windows, this after all the MDF trim was replaced more than a month ago. BTW, do yourselves a favor and never ever put MDF where it has the remote chance of getting wet -- like around windows! I learned so you don't have to.

The joy I get out of the bookbinding studio, though, was unexpected. I went to work in it Friday bright and early, as the sun warmed up the fall day outside. I had the garage and front doors open to the golden light, the rustling of the tall grasses in the courtyard, and the neighbor's KMHD jazz.

It was lovely to work padding around the bamboo floor with all my rolls of bookcloth and paper and scraps of bookboard within arm's reach. How could I have waited so long to get started? I know, I was busy with the parties, the wedding planning, the dishwashing, the sweeping -- all the chores that can absorb so much time while your life unspools wildly, unconsciously, unconscientiously (?).

So there I was, happily cutting board for that conservation project that came in, ahem, last fall and I had the revelation that put the ever-widening grin on my face: This is why I built the house. This is why I put off the bookbinding dream for two years. This is what all the hassle, headaches, and work went to. This is it.

This makes me ecstatic.

Never mind the punchlist that never fades, the rain that might taint the wallboard, the radiator panel that won't stop leaking, I've got bookbinding and dreaming to do.

2006-04-18T17:02:00.000-07:00

I forgot to mention one of the best parts of the family visit earlier this month, how two little girls, ages 8 and 11, broke in the tango bindery doing large-scale artwork on the big foldout table that comes off the wallbed. It's just the kind of activity for which the space was built, and the artists' chirpy voices and scratching pens traveled as music up the stairs.

Then there was the real breaking in, when we had the big party Friday. Some of those who came hadn't been there since the groundbreaking show in August 2004, and boy had things changed: No more dirty, ramshackle carport, no packs of rats or raccoons, no weeds up to your wallet (no nuisance notices from the city either).

But I'm burying the lead here, because in case you didn't notice, I finally posted pictures at right. No scrolling required!

2006-04-04T15:58:00.000-07:00

Mabel is flawless in just about every way except: She kills birds. The third one came to rest Friday night (?) on the driveway just below the kitchen window, where Monkey Man saw it and wondered why it wasn't moving so fast, or hardly at all. I ran upstairs and saw the telltale smudge of feathers from the inside and felt sad.

I'm sure Monkey Man thought he was cheering me up, saying, Well, it's not a native species. I begged for him to lay it to rest among the Hinoki cypresses, but we waited, and when we came home that night, the bird was gone. I hope for the best, that it finally stopped seeing stars and started soaring again.

The first inkling we had of this problem was when we found our first bird, one that hit so hard on the tower that it spiralled itself into the ground below like a missile. Luckily, the window cleaner came after that incident.

So I'm extra-delighted that the blinds have arrived, and I started putting them up last night. It should also help put an end to our kitchen window looking like a television screen to the neighbors. I can just imagine, Let's see what's on the Mabel channel tonight!

The window-manufacture guys were out last week for an inspection of the tower window that failed and has looked foggy ever since. They went away saying four had failed, and the glass will be replaced. Apparently, the windows are guaranteed for as long as we own the house, so that's the good news. But they didn't seem so surprised at the failure rate, which makes me wonder how high it is.

On the happier side, I'm still practically floating around on a cloud of disbelief, brought on by the closing of the sale of Construction Headquarters. It was the easiest house sale ever: no inspection, no haggling, no labored paperwork. I'm still in awe!

Last weekend's yard sale brought in $456, and priceless relief. The best part was the endgame, when we pulled the neighbor's truck up to the pile and took the entire shebang to Goodwill. I'm reminded of the other advantage of yard sales, that it's a social deal and you open the door (sorta) to lots of introductions and gossip. The new neighbors made friends with other folks nearby, and even made friends for their parents. Plus we sent off all that secondhand stuff to new lives elsewhere, so there's wonderful synergy.

Ten more days till I give up possession of Construction HQ forever, and I can't wait. The builder and the concrete guy already are poking around as to the next project they're doing on it for the new owners. It's an irony that soon as we're done with construction, more is set to begin.

Remember all that nostalgia I had for construction? Here we go again.

2006-03-01T12:33:00.000-08:00

Construction HQ represents the third house sold in this whole project, and it might be the easiest. Sure, I had a lot of help prepping it for the market (a huge thank-you to you-know-who-you-are), and I still have a window to replace and a bit of painting to do, but overall, it is a spit-and-polish done deal.

This morning I picked up the forms to complete the transaction -- $16 and change, and -- as the clerk noted -- no commission to boot.

Buyers accept the as-is condition so well I don't think they're going to do an inspection. If they do, it will be for informational/future renovation purposes only.

See, the third time really could be the charm.

Meanwhile, I still have plenty to do! The builder and I met this morning, almost delighting in the fact that the punchlist is now down to one page (albeit both sides of that page -- let's not get carried away). A couple of the more major items include replacement of the tower window, which has fogged up on account of a broken seal, and an interior sort of burn mark within the firebox of the Rais stove. Other than that, it's pretty much just paint touch-up.

Oh yes, and the cabinets. The cabinetmaker reports that he's added more artistic joinery to the tower shelves, so they will probably be even more beautiful than forecast. Even if delivered as late as possibly forecast!

In talking with the builder today, I finally got the chance to tell him what a first-rate crew he has -- every one of them capable, good-humored, and sweet. And also, in the words of the new neighbor, what a phat pad he created. We love living there.

In my morning walks to the coffee shop, I always make a point to walk by the architect's new project, a commercial building just a block away, and it is forever humming with activity. Yesterday, I heard the whir of the concrete trucks and saw them out waiting in line, ready to spill their churning contents of creamy cement. I can get pretty nostalgic about it! I loved the days of hubbub, when so much happened in just a shift, whether it was entire walls set in place, a roof overhead, or a beaming countertop.

I even loved the staccato of the hammers, punctuated by the guys' chatting over intermittent clinks of the toolbelts. Speaking of gear, monkey boy has kept me regularly stocked in Carhartts, one pair already so spattered with paint that I can't seem a poseur wearing them. Right? (Of course, they look cool.)

And in other happy news, I delivered all the financials to the accountant for tax time, and yay. If you look at the bare stats, a lot went on: two houses purchased, two houses built, and -- cross fingers -- three houses sold. I hope, though, it doesn't add up to much on the tax bill.

BTW, for those of you suggesting it, I will post final pictures, but I'm waiting to unearth the photo-transfer dealie that I need to upload them. Promise, and thank you for continuing to ask!

2006-02-13T12:47:00.000-08:00

I admit it: Mabel sorta scares me. Most of the construction workers grew up with her and spent more time inside than I have ... yet. So these creaks and groans signal Mabel has her own ways of moving, pushing back against gales of wind and shedding water through pipes embedded in mysterious walls. Clearly, we will take some time getting used to each other.

After staring at the drawings so long, I felt Mabel would just become home, as easy as it was to just walk over there and start living. But no. Not to anthropomorphize further, but Mabel commands respect. It's not every day such a huge (comparatively) structure rises in the neighborhood, and that achievement now seems to have morphed into something akin to responsibility.

And we do love living there. Last night, I was trimming out shelf liner at the dining room table (perhaps the only downside of ordering oodles of cabinets) and Monkey was surfing via free wifi that beams in through the living room window, and it occurred to me the scene was one I'd wanted to foster all along. Community, independence, work, play, companionship, ambience ... awesome.

2006-01-30T16:05:00.000-08:00

Wow. All's I can say is that once the construction dust settles, the moving party arrives and the construction loan rolls up to deadline time, it's disconcerting to realize that this is all over. I mean, here we are -- at last -- living in Mabel. And loving it, too.

I'm astonished how much natural light beams into the place, so much so that we don't need to turn on lights in the daytime. And I just love the feeling of moving through such clean (albeit now cluttered with moving boxes) spaces, which seem to signal, even encourage the next steps of life.

There's still plenty of stuff to do, however. The cabinetmaker, a wonderful one-guy operation, will end up practically living with us for the next month. I'm so excited to get doors on the cabinets that I can hardly stand it. It would help empty some of those aforementioned boxes.

The new neighbors, the ones who bought the spec house, threw yet another party Friday night, and it was wonderful. I love the huge canvases they have hung on the walls -- one's so perfect there that all I could do was stare at it. And I love to see people enjoying the space and making it their own. I couldn't have imagined better neighbors, and here they are.

I feel so lucky!

2006-01-05T15:18:00.000-08:00

We started moving Monkey Boy's stuff into Mabel this weekend, promptly filling the bindery to bursting. It makes me wonder if those lovely rubbery nubbins that provide the cushion under the bamboo can lose their bounce-back ability? We'll find out.

I almost got an offer on Construction HQ, then started feeling all silly that I might have put the price too low. I am still learning this real-estate game, although it truly has gotten easier.

Thankfully, the offer never materialized, so I can stick with refined plan of fixing up the place even more and getting a good price. As one sage said, $100 of paint could add $10,000 in value. Maybe it'll pay for the wedding?!

Even though we don't have occupancy yet, Monkey and I love sleeping in the bindery, our only complaint being that it can actually get too hot. New neighbors say the radiant heat system's so effective they have shut off their second floor hydroponic units completely. We (builder, architect, me) always knew the concrete first floor would collect and ooze heat, but we never guessed how much.

Meanwhile, I dream of boxing up all the stuff in Construction HQ and clearing it out. It occurs to me that house represents the beginning and end of this whole deal. Everyone said it would take two years, and guess what? I closed on the house and lots March 5, 2004, so I am right on schedule.

2005-12-29T13:15:00.000-08:00

Even though construction's tapering off, the ups and downs keep coming. In the positive column, we have a working sink and toilet! That came in handy when Monkey and I stayed overnight in Mabel (shhh, don't tell the city) on the brand-new wallbed on Christmas! I don't know if it was the champagne or the cozy accommodation, but we slept like rocks.

Also positive: "padre-brown" finish goes on the concrete, the driveway's just 1 pour away from done, and the dishwasher went in (within a day of the one in Construction HQ kicking into high buzz-breakdown mode). If I have to carry dishes over to Mabel for cleaning, well, I'm going to curse Maytag all the way. Actually, I already do.

Big negative: the $367 heat bill! Now I know what happens when the crews hoist up all the garage doors in the middle of winter.

This will be a big month. It is The Month for final everything, plus the mortgage rollover, and getting Construction HQ on the market. I worry least about the latter, and most about the former.

New neighbors have a thank-you party for the crew going this evening. The builder talked them into allowing a few more concrete pours, even though they planned to empty their moving truck today. He said they'd "only" have to walk a few hundred feet and then offered to send some guys their way to help accomplish it. So that explains why the builder was in the driveway this morning, madly calling up any available crew and scanning the street for a load of furniture.

2005-12-22T15:01:00.000-08:00

You use a computer for a long time and when it starts feeling mucked up and slow, that's when you "defrag" it. It occurs to me that's what I've got to do with my mind, now that construction is completed on the spec house -- and it's sold to boot.

And Mabel is pretty fit for living, save the odd spit-and-polish tasks. This morning, I let in the wallbed guys, who are installing the bed in the bindery that will go into use as soon as this weekend. It's great to have company for the holidays, even better when you have two houses at your disposal.

But, about the defrag. I still find myself almost panicking about details that I'd thought of for so long, I also forget they're resolved. Perhaps it's just the Virgo in me, but I need to clean up the hard drive in my head so I get a fresh perspective going into 2006.

Then there are these hundreds of notes piled up around Construction HQ and tucked into books and three-ring binders. I can't clean without a few swirling free. Some are lists for the builder, or questions for the Grok God, or merely reminders to myself. All recall dilemmas that popped up, then got addressed or became moot. Thing is, I feel like I have to read them all over again, in case I'm missing something. So this morning, I happened upon a scribble of "ext sconces," and then "can dim halogen?"

It's enough to set the brain whirring again.

Oh! I forgot the most amazing, biggest relief of all! The bank sent me a form letter saying my loan was done Jan. 1, which sent me into a state of panic. Then the loan officer explained it was a computer glitch, so that -- yes -- my due date still is Feb. 1. How often does a bank's computer mess up in favor of a customer?

Must be my early xmas present from WaMu.

2005-12-08T15:15:00.000-08:00

OK, so what's a few weeks in blogworld when you've sold a house, undertaken payment of the last construction bills, watched the new owners move in, and gotten engaged! (Next blog: love-is-the-answer.blogspot.com -- 'cause I just can't stop it.)

The two-year anniversary of this blog's coming up, and that might be the time to pull the plug on it. After all, Mabel and Galusha have risen and marched into lives of their own. Still, Mabel's not quite done. I marvel each night at what the crew has done (last night it was the bamboo floor in the tango bindery!) and at what still isn't: the dang driveway.

Even so, I can feel my tasks tapering off, at least vis-a-vis construction. The final stress moment came when the buyers' money deposited in my account the same day the city denied us a final permit. That gave me a chance to be amazed about having sold a house that couldn't be lived in. The inspector showed up a few days later, understood the in-progress situation, and signed off on the final anyway. So phew.

The landscape looks beautiful, especially with the artful Columbia basalt wall encircling it (destined, I'm told, for portfolio fodder at www.petewilsonstoneworks.com). Today I talked to the stonemason and reminded him that a chisel was left behind. Apparently it's part of the trade that a chisel is buried in every project. He said that the landscaper kept helpfully fetching it out of the rocks -- and this may be it. Now how to get it back in the wall?

I will post pictures, promise, but suffice to say Mabel is gorgeous.

2005-11-15T16:12:00.000-08:00

Any day there's a concrete truck rumbling outside the house is a beautiful day.

2005-11-09T12:48:00.000-08:00

Frost on the lawns this morning. It's time to break out the sweaters and the Brazilian records.

Best news of all is I sold Galusha. Yes! To a coupla artist-types of my tribe, no less. Each time they came back they spent an additional hour, until I had an offer to sign.

Now pressure of selling has been replaced with pressure of finishing!

I'm so starved for concrete that I feel like flagging down any cement truck I see: Over here! We'll need five more of your friends, too.

The real estate market was meant to have cooled recently, but I think I also have enough interest in Construction HQ to sell it just by calling the shortlist of people who expressed interest. Neighbors, too, say they know friends who love the neighborhood and keep asking after the house.

Wouldn't it be swell to have real estate transactions all over and done by the turn of the year? Then I could put down profits on the Mabel mortgage and call it good.

An anecdote from last week: After many showings and a couple of well-attended open houses, I decide to go through Galusha afresh, looking at it as a potential buyer would. In the main bath, I yank open the top drawer of the vanity and there's a big piece of blue tape, obviously meant to hold something together while glue dryed. On it, in thick black Sharpie written by one of the crew: HANDS OFF FUCKNUTS.

2005-10-26T12:06:00.000-07:00

As the Grok God said, "You can't walk into Galusha and see something special is being done." So it is I glow with all the positivity shown by people visiting the house. Most of them, they see it for the first time, and they get it. The two open houses this weekend helped me put the couple neighbors' criticism in perspective, and to realize how well the elements have come together.

One real estate agent left a showing this morning, shaking his head, "I've got to think of who's worthy of this house." Another potential buyer turned on her heel within ten feet of the door and said, "You read Dwell magazine!" Others, too, just reach for the finishes, some stooping to feel the radiant warmth of the slab floor or to stroke the front of a bamboo cabinet.

Sorry if I'm sounding advertorial (hey everybody: I have a house for sale!), but I'm riding the good feeling. Many friends at the first informal open house Saturday asked if I'd ever believed I'd see the day it was done. And, sure, there's relief; there'll be a whole lot more when an offer's in hand.

In other news, I get so excited looking at the cabinetmaker's plans for Mabel's spaces. It was so fun to imagine the perfect bookbindery, and now here it is, mapped out on paper. I took more photos this morning (and will post them shortly). Some show the bit of landscaping done last week just for the open house.

Landscapers also started putting in trees in back of Galusha. You can see the forest pansy behind Galusha while standing in the Mabel bindery. I love its pretty sherbet-y colored leaves.

2005-10-11T16:35:00.000-07:00

Now I realize why developers are famous for being behind on their bills. I get stacks of mail when I check my post office box, and probably 75 percent of it is construction-driven. There's a notice every time the inspection folks visit the steel-fabricator or test a glob of concrete. Then, I get a bill for each look-over.

And now I get electrical bills for three houses and am girding for more ... water, gas, and so on.

This is not to mention all the lien notices that land in my mailbox at home; I don't even bother picking up the certified letters anymore. Riding in the Tour de Clackamas every day also means I'm never in the neighborhood during post office hours.

Because I can never feel like I'm on top of the paper piles, I devote one night a week to them. And it's still not enough. So, even me, someone who prides herself on paying off the credit card each month -- and early -- starts to fall a bit behind. Worse, I keep uncovering stacks of the bills where I've absentmindedly shelved them, amid the lighting-fixture boxes, say, or in the briefcase or the 3-ring binders devoted to each aspect of construction.

Did I mention I was going to be glad when this is all over? (Just typing that puts me in awe that there will be a time when it's "all over." Goodness, what will I do with myself?)

Today I confided my worry over schedule slippage to the stonemason, who suggested using a velvet hammer. Obviously, he doesn't know me well, but I had to smile later, wondering what a velvet hammer would do for a stonemason. My hunch is, Not much.

Latest crisis is steel balcony rails unsuited to the architect's vision, and I get the deciding vote.

2005-10-04T14:11:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry for the three identical posts below, but every time I go in to delete the repeats, the 'puter crashes.

Galusha is really coming together; now there are doorknobs, light fixtures all over, and a finished wheatboard floor that positively glows. The downstairs cement treatment looks neat, too. So we are getting there. However, in my seemingly daily meeting with the builder this AM, I watched as the guys realized there was no water line into the house for the radiant heat. All I could do was shake my head and say, "Late for work, gotta go!"

Makes me wonder what other surprises are out there, lurking ...

Open house for neighbors could be as soon as Oct. 15 but more likely the 22nd. After that, it's all systems go for a buyer. My strategy now might be to first try selling myself, then getting help after a few weeks if I need it. Mostly, I just need an MLS listing.

An interesting article recently ran in The Wall Street Journal that the monkey found for me, citing services that help with pricing a house, so I might try it. Still, I know that my thing's so unique -- new single-family construction in established neighborhood -- that it's all in finding the right comps.

Even tho we're sliding into winter, with the rain to prove it, it seems market is holding. Cross fingers.

2005-09-29T13:09:00.002-07:00

A bunch of stuff I keep forgetting to mention:

Looks like Mabel's exterior will be combo of Pratt & Lambert "powdered nutmeg" and "brick dust." Sounds yummy, huh?! Let's hope it looks so.

Things I've learned lately include the fact that it's dang hard to get a ventilation hood in the wake of a hurricane disaster that takes out much of the South. I was wondering, Why vent hoods? Maybe it's all that fried food.

I also learned that the surprises, by their very nature, will keep on coming. Like when David and I were looking at the sweet bathrooms in Galusha, and I said, "Now what about the shower doors?" And he goes, "What shower doors?"

Meanwhile, the carport rises at Construction HQ. It's taller than I thought it would be, but it also looks good in the space, providing a kind of visual and literal turning point between old and new architecture.

One good surprise is that the concrete finisher's only charging about $650-$700 for staining the first floor of Galusha a shade of "Faded Terracotta." I checked in this morning on the still-wet application, and it looks neat-o.

I'm getting calmer about all the criticism, my last little venting occurring on account of having to deliver all my newsletters Tuesday night in the usual hurry, which gave me chance to wonder at all my complaining neighbors who do nothing else for the neighborhood. Then I get mad at myself for thinking such bitter things. Construction can't end soon enough for all of us.

Speaking of, I'm already strategizing on the sale process and the open houses. First one will be just neighbors, then Galusha goes to market in earnest. I wish I'd kept a sign-in sheet of all the people who've come through for a peek these last months, especially ones who actually seemed interested in a move.

Note new photos. Finally.

2005-09-29T13:09:00.001-07:00

2005-09-29T13:09:00.000-07:00

2005-09-25T19:10:00.000-07:00

I have so many conflicting emotions these days about the development. Altho I'm in awe of how beautifully the houses are coming together, especially Galusha as it enters the end game of finishes, I keep coming up against a lot of negativity -- however warranted -- from neighbors.

First there was the neighbor who sent the op-ed into the paper, which the letters editor promptly forwarded to me, asking, "Is she talking about your development?" I'll paste it at the end of this post just for kicks, bad grammar and facts and all. It's her sentiment that's of interest.

Then, today, a neighbor in the house to the south came to ride the builder and me about the plan for the concrete driveway between our houses. He said he was ready to up and move and likened buying their bungalow to a "big mistake." It made me sad and frustrated because I've tried to be as upfront, accessible, and sensitive as possible.

Earlier this week I got a complaint for another neighbor about construction noise that started at 5 a.m. that I'm pretty sure wasn't even our project.

So, everyone (including me) is getting nervy over the traffic and the mess overall. It is the last few months of a project that began in earnest about a year ago.

Plus, I'm trying to keep up my optimism for selling! One idea I have lately is try to go FSBO for first few weeks, then list it if I get impatient.

I wonder if there's huge hurdles standing in the way of a final certificate of occupancy.

Here's the op-ed, followed by the architect's response:

"For submission:

"When I voted in favor of retaining the urban growth boundary so many years ago, I understood that meant I was voting against urban sprawl and for condensed living with its eventual companion, more traffic.

"I was okay with that as long as it meant retaining our farmlands and not building strip malls all the way to the coast.

"I also understood that condensed living meant new housing units springing up in our oldest neighborhoods, some in areas of Portland which have oversized lots.

"The influx of condos on the west side of the Willamette is nothing new. What is new is the proliferation of row houses and lofts appearing, as if overnight, on the eastside. Like an invasive weed, condensed living has taken root, on both sides of the river.

"Some long-time homeowners have sold-out or have been gently-persuaded by one means or another, to move out. Oftentimes, the old house is razed and in its place, a trio of houses is built. Developers know, "If you build it, they will come".

"In spite of a weak economy and a dysfunctional tax structure, our region is growing. People continue moving to Oregon.

"I was still okay with condensed living until recently when it spread to my neighborhood, hitting too close to home. Admittedly, I have a NIMBY attitude. This year I witnessed dual units being built two streets away.

"One savvy homeowner who came into a windfall did what any savvy homeowner who comes into a windfall, would do: bought the bungalow next door and proceeded to have plans drawn up for a flag lot with two new units behind the two existing homes.

"From the start, many neighbors were displeased but I tried to refrain from passing judgment. I saw this as one citizen taking advantage of personal circumstances to secure a future nest egg. Isn't that the American way?

"I reminded myself this is the definition of condensed living and I voted for it. I wasn't alarmed; that is, until I saw the design of these new homes: essentially, both boxy with flat tops. Ach!

"In my neighborhood, most houses were constructed in the 1920's. It's easy to see the classic American bungalow-style dominates the area. Even easier to see is that the contemporary architecture of these two new homes is so very out-of-place.

"There oughta be a 'law of aesthetics' which states that new homes/ condos/ lofts or rowhouses constructed in old Portland neighborhoods conform designs to fit within existing surroundings.

"Apparently, the homeowner-turned-developer was not concerned about fitting in. Surrounded by A-frame houses, there now sits two big boxes which resemble a retail complex and stick out like a sore thumb!

"Condensed living is here, whether we like it or not. I'm not so sure anymore."

And here's what the architect said:

"Discourse like ______'s is pernicious and pointless. Its like spitting at somebody in a rain storm. Its a safe, toothless way to express dislike in the absence of the strength required to actually affect change. If she thinks 'There oughta be a 'law of aesthetics' ', then let her pursue the process of implementing a design overlay that will preserve her precious bungalow neighborhood. Until she's ready and able to do anything other than spout her opinion, she can spout all she likes. Anybody other than those stuck with a fundamentalist approach to the evolution of the built environment say your development is refreshing and new. The contrast of old and new makes the fabric of the neighborhood stronger and more interesting. She professes homogeneity. Wouldn't it be great if we all had the same color skin and lived in the same kind of house and went to work in the same kind of building and ate the same food? No.

"Es macht nichts. It means nothing. Red herring."

Amen.

2005-09-09T14:23:00.000-07:00

Ack, it's hard sitting down to write when so many tasks, details, and errands swirl about in my mind and my schedule. For instance, I am focused on finally finishing up lighting, which I'll remember as the biggest chore associated with this whole project.

If I did it all over again, I would hire a lighting designer like all the smart people do. Then again, I've taken the crash course ...

But. I did get the major order in this week, and will fill out remaining bits and pieces with trips to fixture shop tomorrow and Bruck dealer next week.

Right now, tho, the builder says he needs towel bars and toilet-paper holders by the time I leave for Flathead!

This week a neighbor -- one I'd been friendly with since I took her mosaic class a couple of years ago -- sent in a long rant to the newspaper saying, "There oughtta be a law" against modern stuff in bungalow neighborhoods. The architect sent me a nice anti-rant back, making me feel better, but the criticism stings. Anyway, Mom pointed out Mabel and Galusha have ability to spark debate, and isn't that at least better than boring?

We are getting closer on color choices for Mabel, lately settling on a couple of shades of "amber" or "mango." (The Grok God doesn't let me say "orange.")

Landscape bids are next on agenda, so we must be coming into final lap. I've got to get on marketing, so that Craigslist (my new realtor) and I can get Galusha sold FSBO and ASAP.

Heck, I've already got 3 people seriously nibbling on Construction HQ. I love that I can offer homebuyers the choice of 2005 brand-spankin'-new construction or 1930 classic bungalow.

2005-08-21T18:51:00.000-07:00

On Friday, we discovered an air compressor's gone missing from the site. So I'm all creeped out that someone went back there to steal stuff. And I worry that if they got something one time, they'll keep coming back.

The builder has gone hypersecurity, locking up stuff in Galusha.

Turns out the shower in Mabel's first-floor bath wouldn't have passed code because it was too deep. Adding to the problem was that the space got framed in so tight meanwhile that we couldn't get the shower out to return it. So there was some post-pulling going on Friday just to extricate the thing and send it back to the warehouse. I will end up with the now-classic tub-surround combo, which isn't a bad thing considering art projects that may need soaking.

The Grok God came and picked some more formica patterns for Mabel. After choosing so conservatively for Galusha, it's fun doing Mabel and getting a little crazy. OK, not too crazy, but there is this pattern called "Paper" that has me all excited. Also, I'm _this_ close to ordering up the wallbed.

Oh yeah, and the crew hit my neighbors' house again ...

This better be a better week.

2005-08-09T15:10:00.000-07:00

What a lovely weekend! Monkey Boy and I bunked in the Mabel tower over the weekend, "sweeping" aside all the nails with a shovel and laying as many comforters as I could gather on the bare plywood. We slept like a coupla Alameda Ridge boulders.

I'm looking for my second wind these days, faced with another lighting fixture order (especially one meant to address some tricky spaces) and the multipart project of the landscape plan.

Luckily, I got the Grok God to come over last night, to assess the three different kinds of fasteners used on the concrete board cladding. There were plain ol' stainless screws, then screws with two different sizes of grommets beneath them. (We ended up with the medium-size ones after some talk of whether they made Galusha look too dressed up for bondage.)

In other decisions, the paint looks great inside and out, and proper stair treads should start going in this week. I went for the old-standby Caribbean-colored Marmoleum for the baths, because a beachy-looking floor never looks wrong.

The team's doing well, even though the architect and the muse keep trying to lure the builder to do their house projects, like, now. I say to the builder, Let them wait. And I say to the architects, Get in line! The builder has eight projects under way, and it turns out I account for just one of them.

So lately when the builder and I turn up at the architects' office for a meeting, they start shouting, "I luuuuuuuvvvvvv you man!" to the builder, like he's some rock star. I don't want to have to share him til certificates of occupancy come into view.

2005-07-28T12:59:00.000-07:00

Mabel has all her stairs now, and it's amazing. I can't get enough of climbing up through the stairwell and entering that wide-open first floor. Everything is where it should be, and more stylish and comfortable than imagined. It's possible my house is too cool for me.

Just when I was starting to get worried about the landscape architect, he surfaced. Relief. We have already met twice to tweak the plans, fitting in enough hardscape to make both humans and cars comfortable. It ain't easy. Plus, I have to think of all the maintenance issues and property rights involved down the road. Right now it's easy owning everything (ha), but once I let go of these houses, they're on their own with new owners. I can't wait.

So I start musing, trying to keep a lid on expanding the project while daydreaming big. For instance: Wouldn't flowerbeds parallel to the driveway at Construction HQ look awesome? Maybe I could treat my neighbors, too ...

2005-07-19T12:34:00.000-07:00

By all accounts -- and especially the multistate, multiprofessional color committee -- Galusha's paint looks awesome. Now the pressure's on to make Mabel as eye-pleasing, but different.

It's crazy, but as I realize I'm over the hump with the minidevelopment, I've actually caught myself thinking, What will I do with myself when this is done? Look at how much free time I'll have! Look at all the $ I'll have freed up ... for ... what? For once in a long time, I don't have a Next Thing lined up (unless you count Operation Boyfriend, over which a temporary chill has settled, but that's a whole other blog).

Helping me explore this quandary is the fact and fruition of the bindery space, which already feels like a perfect spot for classes, workshops, slide shows, lectures, or whatever. It looks like a space from which the next dream could be launched.

Further digression, tho tangential: Looking in the mirror, I notice this newer layer of age. Grok God and I joked about the "Berth Announcement" we sent out for the groundbreaking last August, when I laughed that I would be having twins. Houses, that is. Now it occurs to me -- with all due respect to hardship of pregnancy, labor, and parenthood in general -- that this process is indeed a birthing. And then I think of all my friends who've had children; with their first one, you can see how the features in their faces seem to cement into place.

Don't get me wrong: I love cement, having just seen a creamy palette of it poured into the first floor of Mabel. The wrinkles will come; the only worry now is making sure they turn up in the right places.

In the meantime, I go a little nuts with the multitasking. On Sunday on the massage table, I couldn't quiet the running stream of must-dos: Call the cabinetmaker to give OK on bamboo, get lighting designer lined up for the challenge of bindery lighting, where can I get samples of ebony stain? and what if the landscape architect's gone AWOL?

2005-07-12T15:01:00.000-07:00

The cool thing about building 2 houses is that if you missed one step the first time around -- dang the day job -- you just might catch it the second time. For instance, I looked into the back yard this morning and thought, Oh, there's the radiant-heating guys! They weren't so radiant, tho, looking up at me while coiling up the lines with equal parts caution and pity, thinking, "That poor renter lives here."

The daily construction routine starts thus, when the foreman's truck rumbles past the side of the house about 7:30. He's followed by a few workers who arrive by foot and bicycle. Then the street itself fills with trucks of all shapes, colors, and vintages for the rest of the crew and the odd sub. And then I hear the spigot turning on in back, so the coffeepot can get going. The tent has become a regular little hangout place, and we've all gotten comfy there.

Then the hammers start swinging, the machines start whirring for another day in Mabel & Galusha Land.

It's kind of a charming routine, but I still can't sleep through the arrival of the huge trucks, the cement spinners, say, or the lumber semis, that shake the glass shade askew in the dining room fixture. I just pray I never hear stucco cracking.

2005-07-10T17:45:00.000-07:00

Never mind what I said about the colors, this weekend's Color Summit changed all that. The Grok God, the architect, and I stood in the grey Saturday morning light considering Galusha in all his glory -- and dozens of 1-x-1-inch color chips, finally arriving at the glorious combo of Steel and Blue Symphony (with a bit of Anubis and Wild Cherry thrown in for fun). Phew. GG and I went back to the paint store and collected yet another batch of the bigger swatches to make sure of the choices.

Two days later, we still like them, so all bodes well. Of course, we haven't even re-considered Mabel yet, but there's some time.

I plan to add more pictures shortly, but suffice to say Galusha steams along, with sheetrock and mud going up last week, and the painter due any day.

I finally got up to the second and third floors of Mabel, via ladder, last week, and she is beautiful. Everything I expected, but more. I love how you enter into the atriumlike space on the second floor. The kitchen window opens like an enormous eye into tree and sky. And Friday the foreman put in the stairs between the tower and the kitchen and the guest room and what the crew calls the "grow room." Of course, silly us -- we always thought of it as laundry.

I can't wait to get proper stairs in from the first to second floors, altho I'm grateful it keeps riffraff stopped on the ground. Sometimes I'll be fixing breakfast and see a couple joggers lope past my window, after a little look-see. Last night, while doing the yardwork, I stopped to give a couple tours, one to a group of about 8, some of whom even seemed like they could be house buyers. To these, I give my extra-special spiel, which gets smoother with each retelling. I should be real estate-agent suave by September, when Galusha is expected to go to market. Actually, I hope not.

It might be time for the Authorized Personnel Only Past This Point sign in the dining room window of Construction HQ.

2005-06-28T16:35:00.000-07:00

Seems like everyone's stopping by the site now that it's readily seen from elsewhere in the neighborhood. I love meeting neighbors, however far flung, but it might get a little irritating down the road. Plus, it's fun to watch people's reactions. I'll be planting flowers, like I was Sunday, and people traipse right past me on my property, like I'm the gardener or something. Which I am, I guess.

Anyway, I make it a point to take off the dirty glove, extend a big grin that stops 'em in their tracks, and say, "HI! What are you up to? I'm the owner." I like watching the startled flicker in their eyes.

The biggest news is that the Grok God made his color choices:

Galusha will be: http://www.colorcharts.org/ccorg/resources/colors.aspx?ProductID=662&CBN=Y6MP-LRAM-J0K5

Mabel: http://www.colorcharts.org/ccorg/resources/colors.aspx?ProductID=662&CBN=2DT4-GJR6-8AY9

The GG used colors found in the sky to make his choices. I'm a little worried about the Mabel color, but Galusha seems to be right on. All comments appreciated from ye blog faithful, as always.

2005-06-21T17:50:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry to have left the blog on such a down note. After a volley of e-mails, the neighbor seems to be calmer, and I hope she'll warm to the final result. With the trench gaping, and the piles of dirt, it was hard to feel any kind of love for the project.

Things look much better now, and at least I have different worries -- like the crews doing damage to the neighbors' place (twice) and leaving my door unsecured (thrice). Still, the trench is filled and the dirt smoothed. The addition of a few cubic yards of gravel atop the boot-sucking mud makes walking around the site way easier.

It's fun going out every morning, especially now that there's so much to, uh, supervise. One crew is still framing Mabel's second floor. The other is finishing window trim in & out and putting on exterior cladding. With sheetrockers coming tomorrow, things seem to be on a fast track. I already have four meetings set for Friday to tackle all the next steps, from cabinets and finances to fireplaces and lighting.

Yes, lighting. I continue to struggle with lighting and the cabal of it all. Tonight's trip to Home Depot (ugh) may help to avoid the former. Yeah, I'll show them. Someone pointed out this might be why interior designers get paid so much.

P.S. New picures of M & G, dated 6/21/2005, at right ------}

2005-06-07T16:31:00.000-07:00

A neighbor e-mailed me today:

"I am writing to tell you how disappointed I am with the houses you are building. I feel you mislead the neighbors telling them you planned to build some nice little cottages on your property. From my point of view, the places that you are building are NOT cottages and they seem to be totally out of sync design-wise with the kind of homes on our block. I am just glad these homes are not in my back yard."

I wrote back, saying I thought the existing wide range of styles, designs, and eras on the street was a valuable thing, and I hoped to add to it. I don't know where the neighbor got the idea that Mabel and Galusha would be cottages, but it's unfortunate that it became part of anyone's thinking. It's the first time someone's out-and-out criticized Mabel and Galusha, and I feel kinda hurt and protective.

I just hope the result mollifies her. No doubt, the shape the place is in now is far from pretty. There's a trench from the street on back, and piles of dirt you can hardly see over. This spectacle was my first sight on coming back from vacation, and then I also heard that some damage was done to the neighbors' fence when a piece on the front-end loader broke. The fence is repaired, but it seems like everyone's nerves are a little frayed and any incident can send someone over the top.

With Hawaii just days behind me, it's surprising how fast I'm right back in the thick of it. One point of solace: I've got to be at least halfway done. Right?

Check out the new photos coming soon.

2005-05-26T13:07:00.000-07:00

Why'd I know this would happen?

Architect calls this morning to say the dumbwaiter's done. That is, because it wasn't on the drawings, it didn't make it into the brains of the framers. Imagine that.

Anyway, I guess I'm over it. I think this whole process wears down every whim one can have so you end up with, yes, a dream house -- but it's always gonna be missing something. Like the dang dumbwaiter!

Can you tell I'm ready for vacation? With the crew's attention turned to Mabel, I expect there will be a lot of changes once I get back. It has finally stopped raining, so Galusha gets a chance to dry and, therefore, be sheetrocked.

Lighting continues to bug me, but I guess that'll be true til the fixtures are installed and the switches flipped. It occurs to me the lighting industry's like some big cabal. Everything costs hundreds of dollars, and where there's a range, say, for steplights, there are ugly cheapos at $20 apiece and then there's stuff from Italy at $200-plus. Basically, as a customer, you can call the bluff, by standing at the counter and wondering pathetically, "Gosh, there's _got_ to be something in between the two choices ... " And voila, someone says, Oh, check that catalog over there; seems like it had something ...

All this for $65 steplights.

I expect the same for every specialty fixture outside of the cans.

Luckily, I pleaded for a lighting designer to help me, but even she can't say what things cost and, of course, she can't outright order them either.

Plumbing seems so easy now.

2005-05-18T10:20:00.000-07:00

It would be nice if it stopped raining.

Note: new pictures at right (one of Mabel and two of Galusha), taken this AM.

2005-05-12T15:41:00.000-07:00

I was up til 1 last night finishing the lighting plan for Galusha, and handed it over in a bleary stupor to my builder and the electrician this morning. To make it happen, I was doing the walk-through at midnight last night, with kerosene lantern in hand and hoping neighbors wouldn't call the cops.

It was probably helpful how pitch-black the night was -- all the better to see where the lights should go.

Of course, I haven't pinned down any fixtures, yet. I promised myself to get nice jump on Mabel, so I could put an order in for the whole shebang.

As I left for work this morning, the city-water guy was slicing up the street out front, in anticipation for the big messy trenching and tapping into the utilities.

Galusha's quite the handsome house. You walk through and there's no awkward moments, with every room leading naturally to another.

And BTW, I picked the landscape person, noticing that one of his references is a hard-core tanguera, so that was an easy one to check. At our second meeting and before we inked a contract, he already had some excellent sketches and exciting ideas to show. One tangential breakthrough: the garage at Construction Headquarters may end up being a fancy lean-to or carport, rather than an ordinary garage. After all, as the builder said, quoting Frank Lloyd Wright, "A car doesn't need a house."

2005-05-10T10:26:00.000-07:00

Construction continues at full speed. Galusha has almost all his windows and a staircase, too, which means no more scary ladder climbing just to peek out from the second floor. The roof's just tarp at this point, and that's obvious: Walking around in there at night it's like some creepy movie, with water dripping from two stories above and the tarp blowing around every which way.

After all this charmed weather, we're finally getting the spring torrents.

The builder dropped a bomb on me this morning, saying, "The electrician comes tomorrow, so we'll need the lighting plan." And that's the thing I was trying so hard to wrap my mind around, and for which I planned to enlist (paid) help. My eyes start to swim soon as I start thinking about all the varieties of light, the placement, the effects, not to mention the fixtures. So the adrenaline flows.

Work on Mabel may resume this week, so then there will be two camps of crews and hopefully double the progress. I can't wait to see her rise.

2005-04-26T17:43:00.000-07:00

More and more I'm leaning toward selling Galusha when it's finished. It's not just because the prospective buyer disappeared as quick as she surfaced once she learned my terms. It's because if I sell now, I end up working for that person. I'm already working for one man more than I want to. Besides, all the work I do on Galusha makes Mabel that much easier.

The final forms came off Mabel, and her Great Wall is impressive. The concrete guy made a point about it being 26 feet and _one_ inch -- not a centimeter more! Right now, the place looks surreal. You can stand inside the "house," sure, but there's all these shards of wall sticking up; it feels a bit like Stonehenge.

I'm getting so used to noise and pace of construction that I don't stir anymore when the trucks rumble by the dining room window at 7 a.m. Or when the crew fills its coffeemaker from the outside water spigot. I guess they're getting used to life in Beaumont, too.

I'm getting closer to picking the landscape architect. The front-runner has an impressive portfolio, covering most the bases, from modern lines to native plants. In my talks with landscape people, I've come to realize the driveway, its material and shape, is the most significant element. In sheer square footage, it's the biggest thing out there, and it has the potential to set the tone for the whole scene.

2005-04-18T13:29:00.000-07:00

My head's still swimming from all the appliance shopping I had to do this weekend. You should see the *ka-ching* in the salesmen's eyes when I say I'm there to pick 2 ventilation hoods, 2 gas ranges, 2 dishwashers, 1 laundry machine, 1 minifridge, 2 regular fridges ...

And this was after the plumbing schedule almost did me in, for which I picked 9 sinks, shower doors in every configuration (it seemed), and so on.

I have no idea how I'm going to handle the lighting.

Still, the buildings bloom. Mabel had her last huge wall poured on Friday, and Galusha framing keeps the hammers humming. There's a whole roof on Galusha now, made watertight with a lovely blue tarp, and you can walk from room to room. We did that with the door guy Friday, making all the hard decisions on size, jamb, style.

The state sent me a bunch of info on Building Out Radon and I gave it to the builder. After communing with it over the weekend, he's decided to give it a go -- the passive method anyway -- and I'm all happy. Alameda Ridge has the highest radon count of any place in Portland and maybe the state, courtesy of the Great Missoula Flood about 15,000 years ago. If only it had delivered the rich vein of yogo sapphires.

2005-04-06T16:40:00.000-07:00

The construction goes so fast that my camera and my shutter finger can barely keep up. Today I just wanted to stick around in the back yard and watch walls go up instead of coming to work, which after all helps subsidize all the fun.

I spent this morning ogling bamboo flooring and laminates at Contract Furnishings Mart, a place where I'll probably become a regular.

The builder and I went up to the second floor of Galusha this weekend -- my first time. There's still no staircase to it, but with wits and ladders it's possible to get up to that patch of air that could never have been visited before without the aid of a cherry picker. It's beautiful. The view from every window and balcony beats all my expectations. I knew we were on particularly high knob of Alameda Ridge, but I didn't know we'd be able to see clear across the river to Portland's west side. Yes!

The only thing tempering the elation is the mind-numbing work I have to do on the schedules. I spent a few hours making headway on the plumbing one last night, but I'm still stalled on shower surrounds. For something so ubiquitous, it seems odd there's so few choices. Any blog readers out there got an idea for something affordable that's not tile? If so, e-mail me!

2005-03-31T16:15:00.000-08:00

With Grammer passing away last week, that makes 3 grandparents lost within a year. I'm really starting to hate this mortality thing. Life's more lonely without the people whom I, until now, never doubted would be there. It's not that I took her, or my grandfathers, for granted, but I always thought I'd be telling them about my construction project. I always expected they'd have something insightful to say, and I always knew I'd need their advice. Now ...

The comfort I get is knowing how much they instilled in me, and the confidence they held in my abilities. I still mean to make them proud, somehow.

So life pushes on: Walls are going up on Galusha's second floor at the rate of about 1 per day, and I meet this weekend with a prospective buyer.

My lawyer and I were brainstorming yesterday on how a sale might happen, and then he says, "Now, you've got your developer license, right?" I thought he was joking.

2005-03-20T18:43:00.000-08:00

Mabel has her forms off, and is she beautiful.

This weekend I felt gleeful about how well the construction is going (knock wood), the quality and agreeable nature of all the people involved, and the fact that I had two showings scheduled for today. Then there's the wonderful simple things -- say, a perfect cocktail made from homemade blueberry vodka (thanks Julie and Keith!), a misty rain, and the pretty palette of concrete and wood out back -- all conspiring to make me feel lucky and in my element.

Kitty-corner neighbor put his 750-square-foot house up for sale at $225K last week, and I hear it's already sold after a modest bidding war. That bodes well for sale of Construction HQ, if I'm up for it.

2005-03-14T15:14:00.000-08:00

I'm adding pictures to the right here more frequently now. I also put a few from the high-drama pour day at the end of last month. And if you want to see yet more, visit the mother lode of pix at http://photobucket.com/albums/v421/manao/Mabel%20and%20Galusha/

Speaking of pours, today's Mabel's big one! I almost can't stand to sit here at work, 5 miles away from the action.

I just got back from Coronado where houses the size of Galusha sell for, let's see, $1,495,000.

2005-03-10T11:08:00.002-08:00

The weather continues to awe everyone. The construction guys -- and yes, they're all guys -- are now so used to everyday sunshine they just show up in their T-shirts and they've pretty much lost that surprised-Portlander-blinking-in-the-natural-light look.

Mabel's getting ready for her first pour, on Monday, so the concrete crew is over there pounding up the forms. It's easier getting the east wall up with the old pine tree pruned. Meanwhile, across the way, Galusha moves into adolescence with its second-floor wood subfloor.

You walk into Galusha now, and it feels like a house.

Guillaume came over earlier this week and got me all scared with the prediction that the economy's headed toward deeper times or another crash. It increases my worry over selling Galusha, but thank goodness I have a generous time line on the loan.

And an e-mail out of the blue today from someone living a half block away asking about the house gives me hope. Plus, I got the millionaires coming from San Francisco later this month!

So my tango friend Bugs stopped by the site recently while I was at work. When I saw him at the milonga, he said, "Wow, what a bunch of concrete! I mean, do you have any idea what that costs?!?!"

2005-02-28T10:08:00.000-08:00

Last Thursday was another big-drama day, made even more so because they poured the highest points of the concrete fins on Galusha. To do that, the massive truck stayed in the driveway (I mean, it hardly fit between the two streetfront bungalows) and a crane arched over the top of the bigleaf maple, looking like some giant praying mantis giving a concrete injection.

I know all this because Mom came into town a half-hour before and documented everything with my digital. I played it all as a slideshow last night, and it was cool!

By the time I got home, everything had mellowed considerably. The crew seemed content, and when I asked how it went. They said, "Great. This time Norm told the inspector what he was going to do." I smell a moral in there. I didn't know it, but the inspector does all his tests on-site. Whereas I'd thought he drove the slurry over to some fancy lab, he just cooks it all up in miscellaneous buckets out there in the back yard. Rather homespun of him. Again, I know all this from the pictures.

Now that the fins are readily visible from side streets, the people are coming to look. I had about 10 visitors this weekend, less than half of them planned. All others were neighbors or neighborhood walkers or even a prospective buyer -- curious as all get out. It's cute how excited/amazed they are; in fact, the only ones who bug me are the folks who just go walking back there without a wave, a knock, or an appointment.

2005-02-23T15:04:00.000-08:00

These days I'm in awe of strong men. Looking out the kitchen window I'll see a pile of lumber or rebar arrive, and just as quickly it lands in a pile, then the pile moves clear across the lot next time I look. It's so cool. Also, I'm in awe of people not scared of heights. This morning I saw that a couple of Norm's concrete guys were clinging to the formwork of the second floor "fin" on Galusha, gaily chatting in the sunshine and casually discussing their building plan.

It was all I could do to climb up the ladder that led to the second floor sill of Galusha and hang out there a while last week. It's not like I didn't want to: It was awesome going up there to have a look around and realizing that not only might Galusha have the Mount Hood view, it definitely has a Mount St. Helens view. Mom said to expect some surprises, and there's a sweet one.

Meanwhile, I made the deadline to apply for a grant from the city's Office of Sustainable Development for all the "green" features in the house. When you add them up -- radiant heat systems, vegetated swale, wheatboard everywhere -- it's quite an investment. Given that the city required the swale, and I reduce the burden on city services by taking the runoff problem for myself, it's only fair it might help pay for it.

Now that Galusha is born and still edging up into the sky, it's Mabel's turn. I noticed the guys were walking all over the footings yesterday and promising piles of metal and wood have started to appear there.

P.S. The concrete job can be patched!

2005-02-13T19:19:00.000-08:00

Depending on whom you ask, the pour went OK, badly, or terrible. At first I was of the former group, and now I'm waiting til the architect comes back, to gauge his reaction and then determine how much worse I should feel. I'm missing all my usual barometers. The builder was grim on Friday, and the best thing he said was, shaking his head, "It's a helluva repair job." The concrete guy came by later, and said worse. To reprise one of our infamous headlines, Now the accusations fly. It seems the inspector's taking the brunt.

I'm wondering, given this and the the problem-plagued porch at the old bungalow, maybe I have some kind of concrete hex? But how could that be, given my family's historic ... foundation in it?

Argh.

2005-02-10T13:07:00.000-08:00

Supposedly, the first pour went in today for the walls, and I can't wait to go home and see.

I've started mailing out the Galusha brochures, and yesterday I got my first call, from a real estate agent who had looked at the yellow bungalow last summer. (I saved the cards of all the agents I liked.) He asked all kinds of questions, saying he had 2 clients from the Bay Area who were looking for 2 houses that, if not joined, were adjacent to each other. Voilà Mabel and Galusha. He seemed a bit dispirited when I mentioned Mabel was meant for me. His clients' budget, tho, is a million, so -- uh -- all is negotiable.

Of course, I keep my expectations on low, having learned from the Nicole fiasco. I keep shaking my head over that, wondering if I'll learn to trust my instincts every time.

The excavator's Bobcat kicked up the cutest little teddy bear that had been embalmed in the dirt for decades. After a bath, he's still kind of smudged and you can tell where the family dog did some gnawing, but it's just another reminder of what a play haven the land used to be. I mean to keep that tradition going.

Meanwhile, I probably have enough discovered trinkets (including Dennis's rifle-cleaning instructions) to make a neat Joseph Cornell-style box.

2005-02-03T13:00:00.000-08:00

All's more quiet on the avenue now that the tweakers seemed to have decamped.

But it sure is getting noisy in the back yard with crews putting up all the formwork on Galusha (see pic at right). Meanwhile, the architect, builder, and I wrestle over rough openings, kitchen layout, and window sizes. I finally got tired of worrying about lighting and recruited a lighting-design person for a meeting that I hope will get me going. Of course, my builder says I should be worrying about plumbing fixtures first!

BTW, the stunning (thank you, Grok God!) Galusha brochure is hot off the press and making the rounds. Any of you blog readers want one, e-mail your snail address to manau913 at aol (dot) com. (I wrote that strangely to avoid the spambots.)

2005-01-27T15:10:00.000-08:00

Rant aside for the day to the tweakers across the street: You're evicted already, so it's way past time for you to move. Or are you steeling yourselves for Little Waco? For the endgame -- and let's hope it is an end and not so much a game -- they're ignoring the landlord and whole new cast of creepy low-life characters are making a beeline to the place. It never occurred to me the situation would get worse (insert wry smile here over unexpected results of life).

There, I feel better.

I finally met the famous Norm, the guy my architect calls "Bitter Beer Face" man. He was all smiles to me, tho, maybe it was the tango outfit. He's going to be around for, like, forever, making those walls stretch to improbable heights. Already Galusha has a little fence of forms around it, only one story so far. The architect says everything will just start to look bigger and bigger from here on out.

Past the first floor, it's like you're carving out space in the sky to live in. That's why skyscrapers always struck me as the ultimate example of capitalistic audacity. You only needed a small square of land to rent to hundreds, thousands ...

Me, I'm just looking for one buyer. Well, two (I'm always forgetting about the future of Construction HQ). Yesterday I went to Kinko's to print the Galusha brochure, until the clerk told me it would be $500. So tomorrow I go print-shop shopping.

2005-01-20T17:11:00.000-08:00

E-mail of the day, from the architect:

"Four + concrete trucks.

"Very exciting.

"Your neighbor's son was pretty thrilled."

I can't wait to go home and see!

2005-01-19T17:24:00.000-08:00

It was a glorious 60-degree morning pedaling into work, almost springlike after this weekend's big freeze. The air felt moist, promising, and -- if possible -- fecund.

I sang "El Dia Que Me Quieres" all the way. Music can mine the joy from sorrow, and no one perhaps did it best than Carlos Gardel.

Tomorrow's Pour Day at the minidevelopment, and I went out to take my weekly photos of the setup for the footings. Galusha's appears as a simple box, and Mabel has its sweet angled tango bindery, where TT and I have already danced. It was muddy and it was a few weeks ago, but we were there, careful not to fall into the troughs that are the outline of the house.

Now the rebar pokes up every couple feet along the "walls," like a giant acupuncture experiment.

Another neighbor came by to chat yesterday morning. She's lived on the block all her life and remembers the middle of the block as a forest, excellent turf for neighborhood kids. I didn't tell her the houses were named for the Baileys, but she remembers Mabel and Galusha well and says she played often in Construction HQ. Mabel and Galusha raised four kids in the 841-square-foot gem, proof that families often did so much more with so much less -- and not so long ago.

I hope we get the early pour tomorrow, so I can see some of the action before leaving for work. BTW, dear blog readers, there are enhancements available now: pictures! Check them in the margin at right, and check back for more soon.

2005-01-11T13:59:00.000-08:00

Walking out of the title office this morning, I swear I heard a chorus of angels heralding the close of the Mabel loan. I can't say how many phone calls went into the deal, but I do know it took 2 banks and about eight months of meetings to make it happen. What a relief, tho: Now not only have I broken ground, it appears I'll have the money to pay for it and continue! Onward and upward.

The concrete guy comes tomorrow to start building the forms. The excavator brought in a ton of gravel so the lots aren't mud flats anymore, and the holes where Mabel and Galusha will rise look like little mazes, showing where the footings and walls will go.

The architect and I finished up the exterior electrical plan last week, and then I woke up all worried yesterday morning, wondering if the doorbells had been accounted for. There are so many details to building from scratch, and it's funny: You never notice, walking into a house, that everything's just there already. But you bet you'd notice if it wasn't.

Over New Year's I picked up house numbers in Paris. I love the big fat Bodoni typeface and that color blue that can either look totally classy or groovy Mediterranean. Either way, it's fitting my vision of Mabel and Galusha as an internationally flavored complex. But since there were no four-digit configurations I had to go for "36" and "17," which I'll have to stack. The architect seemed to be warming to the ploy, but he's still worried for the mailman.

2004-12-27T15:45:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I went out and tramped around in the back lots with Mom and Bruce, where the excavator has dug the outline of the houses in preparation for pouring the footings. We were able to stand in the downstairs "rooms" and even the tango bindery. Everything looks so small now, as Mom noted; later, I guess, everything starts to look big and, without fixtures, practically cavernous.

The day before, the builder came by to scoop up his first check, and we had a great meeting out back. And the architect, on seeing the day-glo orange builder truck from his office window, came over too. So we all three had one of our more productive meetings ever, the difference being that we're now stomping around on the site instead of sheltered in a mannered conference room. It's so fun. There was a lot of talk about the grade, and making the houses stand at the same elevation, so that means backfilling some of the Galusha lot. There's a small mountain of dirt out there, so we've got plenty to go around.

Speaking of excavation, my somewhat chilly neighbor came bouncing out of her house the other day exclaiming that the project has provided "hours and hours" of entertainment for their son. So maybe that's how I finally buy their love! Or support, or acceptance.

This week's project is figuring out the exterior lights so the concrete can be formed with holes in the proper places. We may be pouring within a couple weeks, which, according to the city appraiser, saves me lots of $ as a poured foundation signifies a big step up in taxes. Either way, something tells me they won't be $40/year anymore.

Now I'm going on vacation, which is kind of a crazy thing to be doing, given all the interesting stuff happening with the construction. I'm also worried about the security of the site; the excavator has already had a diesel can go missing, but it's not like my presence there stopped the thieves. I'm putting a lot of faith in nefarious activity slowing once the neighbors across the street are evicted Jan. 14. Let's hope they forget where they moved from, too.

Here comes the new year. I can't wait.

2004-12-14T19:23:00.000-08:00

Oh, dear blog. I've neglected you.

But I'm back in town, as of Sunday night and ready to watch over the looming holes in the back yard for (pretty much) the duration.

First thing I did after getting in from the airport was run out to the dark yard to see what had been done, whereupon I promptly tripped over wires and strings setting forth lot boundaries and such. Oops.

The excavator motored in yesterday and, sadly, the cherry tries went the way of the mock oranges, because mismeasurements were made. That hurt, to see those trees in the maw of the dozer, raised to the sky like a few scraggly threads of saffron. So long to grow, so quick to die. Standing there, the foreman seemed to be trying to calm me, and Wilder the crew guy Friday answered, "Si ..." when I muttered -- on seeing the biggest cherry fractured and broken against blue sky -- that "you know, trees -- old like that -- they have souls."

The practical interrupts the sentimental when I make a mental note to delete "mature cherry trees" from the Galusha brochure, still in the proofing stage.

Today's predicament comes courtesy of the title company handling the Mabel loan, which points out a "fence encroachment" on the west side of the Mabel lot. The surveyor confirmed it and called it about 2 feet, enough to make the bank squirm and me try to figure out how to resolve it. Luckily, I met the landowner, who works in construction and may have met this obstacle before, but on the other side of the, uh, fence. Of course, this is expected to hold up the Mabel loan when I can least afford it.

2004-12-01T16:54:00.000-08:00

Post-Thanksgiving, I have much to be thankful for. Mainly, I secured financing for Galusha (I continue to negotiate for Mabel), so there's no stopping us now.

In fact the doldrums seem to be dissipating on many fronts. One week I'm despairing and cranky with everyone and everything. The next things seem to have locked onto the right track; the excavator comes in and pops out four trees, so that the land looms large and clean; my favorite bonefolder surfaces in my makeshift basement bookbinding studio; and I find that elusive balance in tango class. Who knows, maybe even one of these days I'll get a date.

So, yay. I keep my fingers crossed on Mabel funding, however, and I wonder how to handle the Albina guys. Part of me wants to ignore their calls and e-mails like they habitually do mine; another says I should rise above such muck and give it to 'em straight. Anyway, it's absolutely lovely not to need them anymore.

2004-11-14T17:34:00.000-08:00

It took a few stops at different corners of the city's Bureau of Development Services complex for me to find the approved plans for Mabel and Galusha, with the permit numbers scrawled across them, and the reams of correction paperwork stapled in a thick wad at the core of the rolls.

The sign above the desk where I found them said: Process Management. The guy manning the counter didn't know what it meant either.

After a visit to the cashier, I leave the building feeling more invested in the project and amazed by how heavy the paper roll feels in my arms. Little did I know the permits would be the easy part compared with the lenders' "process management." My expectations have dropped so low, I'm amazed that one of them even returns my phone calls. The other I paid a surprise visit Friday, to deliver copies of the permits and the contract with the builder. You would think a whiff of guilt might come off the guy for his terrible customer service, but no, he hardly blinked. It's clear I need them more than they need me, which makes me feel not so confident.

Adventure, however, keeps coming, even on a small scale. I tried to dig out some of the jagged, dangerous pipes and other metal fittings out of the back yard of Construction HQ this morning. One cement-anchored thing doesn't seem to have an end to it, so I'm thinking well? Tomb? Tank? Munitions depot?

The footings for the world's biggest swing-set footings seem a minor problem to me now; I might just try and sweet-talk the guy the drives the 'dozer.

Also, I cleaned out the carport so it's all ready to roll, that is, under the wheels of the aforementioned vehicle. It means, too, I won't have to worry long about the wind yanking it away or where all the puddles come from inside.

Lately, I'm looking at trees like crazy, thinking I might start planting some this winter, at least in the back of Construction HQ, which could do with some nice-nice greenscape to balance out the heavy industry. It's possible that piece might go on the market at this time next year and the better it looks, the faster it moves. I still got the lucky FSBO sign!

2004-11-08T17:26:00.000-08:00

Guess what? The permits are ready! OK, not really ready. The architect called to say they were done first thing this morning, then e-mailed later that the city would still need a couple more days to, I don't know, ink their stamps?

Anyway, it's not like the bankers are ready to go so, like Sartre, I wallow in nothingness, appreciating the lack of momentum and the chance to do things like move my compost pile. I had been meaning to do it for at least six months, and yesterday it finally happened. I got another smile out of Dennis, who actually had been trying to decompose tinfoil.

Without that big plastic marker in the back yard of Construction HQ, the lots behind loom larger and certainly more accessible. It's like the spot on the wall. You ignore it for eons, take a moment to erase it, and then you get that satisfied feeling when you don't see it there anymore. Why did I wait so long?

Pretty soon I might even get brave enough to clean up the carport, which I have already deleted in my mind.

I called the bankers, and believe it or not they're still hemming and hawing over the appraisal. For instance, a bank honcho thought the land was valued too high, so here they go getting the appraiser to change it. And then they have the nerve to complain the appraiser's not standing by his numbers! I asked the banker what I could tell my builder, and he got all flustered, "Now, hold on there ... ," and I had to say I'd been holding on for the last three months waiting for the loans to close. Note to self: Keep second-choice bank lined up til the bitter end, so I'm not stuck like I am now.

2004-11-04T16:14:00.000-08:00

This morning as I walked out to my supershed to retrieve my bike I saw that the grass was crispy with frost. That makes two seasonal changes since I embarked on the development, and if you look back and survey the bare facts of the open space, the ugly carport, and the overgrown grass -- it's astonishing how little, physically, has happened. And today, in my grimmest, coldest humor, I couldn't help but laugh a little at myself. After all, it's been eight months of paperwork, labor, and phone calls, and here I have no permits, and no loans, and a flagging vision.

I'm tortured with the prospect of Galusha, however cool it is, not selling. Even tho I only have to find that one buyer, how do I? My best idea at the moment is a color brochure with nifty graphics and (I hope) insightful text that puts a frisson into any homebuyer's quest for that perfect place to settle. But now, with the election over, I feel so out of step with America, the market, and the way things seem to be headed.

There was a billboard that went up in Seattle when that city hit a major depression in the 1970s. It showed a bare bulb swinging from a wall, with the words: Will the last person in Seattle please turn out the light. I don't even think it was posed as a question.

As I cycle past Portland's vacant storefronts, or down the bus mall past the addicted and the homeless, it seems not even imagination can save us now. It seems like things will get a whole lot worse before they get better.

I wish I didn't feel so divided, whether I am making good use of all my chutzpah (I can say it right now) and energy and vision, or whether I'm a fool not to heed the omens. I know Wayne Gretzky famously said, "One thing I know for sure is that 100 percent of the shots that you don't take don't go in," but in the current times, he sounds so aggressive, courageous, and even hopeful.

The architect just e-mailed to say the permits are only one signature away. It would be ironic if I finally get them at my most pessimistic time.

2004-10-31T17:54:00.000-08:00

Now that I know so many people are checking the blog, I feel more inspired to post! Thank you all for the feedback, interest, and cunning comments.

Yesterday I was out mowing my lawn in the beautiful fall day, and I was thankful for so much: First, the fact that I only have one lawn to mow. Second, that I have a couple of awesome new neighbors. Third, that my neighborhood is lookin' leafy, colorful, and cute as ever. I could go on, but with all the frustrating bank machinations, it's good to take a moment to assess how far I've come already.

Even tho Mabel and Galusha are still just blueprint schemes at this point, I can walk out to the lots and see the houses rising. I imagine their architectural curves, their roof profiles in the sky, and even the way in & out of the oasis that they'll inhabit. I've pretty much given up on the idea of building a garage for Construction HQ, mostly because I'm out of the cash to dream it into existence, so I'm always wondering how to landscape the back yard effectively without eliminating the chance for a potential future garage and still making it a nice space to traverse (or pass by, more like).

This project is well-timed for materials fallout from the rebuild of Mom and Bruce's place at Flathead Lake. For instance, Galusha may get a Grohe faucet and possibly a handsome entry door with sidelights. I love salvaging, and the schedules get that much easier to complete.

Permits may arrive as soon as this week. And the loans? I wish I knew.

2004-10-26T16:36:00.000-07:00

I met with the appraiser yesterday about the scary Galusha appraisal (just in time for Halloween!), and hopefully we get a better result next time around. Much to my dismay, he hadn't received the order to do the Mabel appraisal yet. But given that he may finally "get" the look, feel, and finishes of the houses, the delay might have been a good thing. The Grok God came up with one of the better descriptions: Loft with landscape.

Speaking of, GG and I did a mock-up of the preliminary brochure, so now all we wait for are some spiffy images to go on it.

Meanwhile, I heard at the neighborhood association meeting that a new building may spring up in the place of the Savory and Bellamar spaces, about a half a block away. And the gelato place opened in the bigger new building in the other direction, so Fremont just keeps getting better and busier.

2004-10-18T16:40:00.000-07:00

Just when I thought I might fire the bankers 'cause they're so slow setting closing dates for the loans, I get a call from one of them saying Galusha's appraisal came back at only a few thousand dollars' above hard costs. So instead of me firing them, maybe they're trying to fire me? I mean, how can this be?

I keep wondering if the appraiser's way out to lunch and didn't factor in some elemental things, such as the radiant heat, the oodles of concrete, or the sweet courtyard-oasis site. Then I wonder if the appraiser is right, that the costs are too high for the market and this is a money-losing deal.

One thing's for sure: My mind reels with risk, and I'm back to thinking I shouldn't build Galusha after all.

Aw, last week I was all triumphant in getting the city to grant the "3617" address to Mabel instead of the dreaded "3619," but now I'm so depressed. It's one of those days I don't feel like being a developer at all. Does uberdeveloper Homer Williams ever feel like this?

Maybe I should just sell the lots and move to Buenos Aires after all.

2004-10-03T21:10:00.000-07:00

The first new building in the development is complete. It's the Shed of My Dreams: a 6-by-8 beauty in cedar, sitting cutely along the north side of Construction HQ's property line. On Saturday I took a trip to Beaumont Hardware to make the thing superfly: hooks for shovels, helmet, and raincoat. Bike itself hangs nicely elevated off the far wall. The lawnmower stands sentry to the side. If I get foreclosed on, I can move in there.

I even hung a piece of art inside, and I want to ask Ken to go to the animal-parts store in Butte for a smallish rack to put over the front doors. My old deer ones are too wide (and waiting for Mabel, besides), so I'm thinking jackalope.

City still seems to be taking its sweet time on permits. My architect got scolded for using a "certain tone of voice" with 'em. I'm saving most my anxiety for the bankers, who seem not too excited to earn their fees. Builder's gone AWOL, which doesn't bug me so much, so long as he surfaces around the time the permits and the loans do.

After all, I'm having the same motivation problems, trying to fit in time for picking out the 7 sinks, 9 faucets, 6 bathtubs, and whatever other fixtures pop up all over the plans. I haven't even started thinking about lights yet.

2004-09-02T11:51:00.000-07:00

It's been hard to sit down and update this blog. For one thing, Sir died, and the world seems a less dignified place without him. Mom pointed out, though, that both my grandfathers would have appreciated and taken great pride in what I'm doing. I reread Sir's autobiography and marveled at how he built an oil refinery from a book -- "guess I'm a petroleum engineer now!" he wrote, as well as his ability to pick up and move to tackle other seemingly overwhelming projects, such as building a refinery in something like 108 days in Saskatchewan.

Sir's exploits, and Grandpa John's long record of taking risks and committing to projects huge and small, makes me realize I've got developer genes.

I take heart in their courage, entrepreneurship, and -- yes -- fear management.

Mabel and Galusha are on their way, despite lack of posts to this blog. After 2 rebuffings by the city, the architect had his drawings accepted Sept. 25, so our 6- to 8-week countdown to permits is ticking. I love what they told him the first time he went in: "Whoa, you can't just walk in here with drawings anymore." Like, how else? Airlift them in? He learned he had to have an "intake interview," for which the earliest scheduling was days away. During that event, he was told the project was "unbuildable," always a lovely thing to hear after you've spent months -- and thousands.

That last discussion tipped off a circus of lawyering, surveying and recording with the city, the last of which I achieved 10 minutes before the county recorder's office closed, the day before I flew to Billings.

It's visceral, for sure. I still like it.

As much as I want to focus on Mabel and Galusha, on the loan and then the plumbing and electrical schedules, I'm spending a lot more time absorbed in making the sale happen on the ol' bungalow. In the phases of this project, moving next door was the first (done), now we're at the second: unloading the old home. There's last-minute complications, of course, and I am dealing with them starting with the structural engineer I hired six years ago to survey the fire damage.

An added bonus in all these machinations is my ex-real estate agent thinking the sale was his and demanding documentation to prove otherwise. I should have had the nerve to go FSBO from the start.

2004-07-23T18:50:00.000-07:00

Geez, I didn't post for 2 weeks, and now I feel like so much has happened.

The structural engineer left his own firm, which meant load calcs and drawings to help Mabel and Galusha stand up (kinda important, yes?) were on a desk in an office in Southwest, and no one could go fetch them. I asked my architect if perhaps it was time for Mabelgate.

One of the other principals, though, decided my contract was worth keeping so he came out to meet us, all nervous in his squeaky new shoes. These engineers, they're so geeky they're sweet. So I think other than losing a little time, Mabel and Galusha will stand up after all.

I went and paid the city to move my lot line 13 feet, so now Mabel has an itty bitty front yard instead of space for just a shrub. Even with the change, Galusha's still on an oversize lot, albeit by about 25 or so feet.

More and more, every time I'm out back -- which is often in this summer heat -- I walk the land and feel where everything's going to go. In fact, with the beautiful new fence installed on the south house, it seems almost as if the land is shaping itself to the vision. You can see where the turn will be to go into Mabel and imagine the way the road slopes down and out of the middle of the block. I like walking to where the Brussels sprout forest is and knowing it will, in a year or so, open up into the tango bindery, a place I imagine as a wide-open room full of light, music, art, and fun.

I'm still leaning toward building both houses, and the builder's new, lower numbers today bolster my ambition.

2004-07-08T11:46:00.000-07:00

After several nights of loan calculating in Coronado, I'm ready to face the lenders, mostly with more questions. Banks make their money somehow, somewhere, so it's just a matter of finding their sweet spot; sometimes it's the "foundation survey," draw fees (oh, so you _want_ the money we said we'd loan to you? It'll cost you each time we issue some ...), whatever.

My flight was delayed out of PDX for a couple hours, so I went to the Powell's and got the only development-related book I could find: Building Real Estate Riches!!!! It's hokey for sure, but I learned some things. The writer aimed at the McMansion builders of the world, advocating somewhat cheesy cost-cutting measures of all kinds, but he did come through with a great for-dummies chapter on financing. And there were some good laugh-out-loud sentences, like "Great landscaping is nice, but don't go crazy" and "Build to match the neighboring homes [not sure how McMansions fit into all of that]. For example, people talk about 'that bubble house,' 'that George Jetson house' -- don't be that house."

The bigleaf maple looks awesome with the dead wood taken out of it, like a fresh haircut. The arborist took a bunch of pictures while he was climbing around in the canopy, too, so I have an idea of the potential views.

2004-06-30T19:26:00.000-07:00

The other night the tree fella came over to give me an estimate on pruning the dead wood out of the bigleaf maple, and we talked about the mulch moat that should go around the tree as protection during construction. It so happens he had some mulch already in the truck, and before I knew it there were 3 cubic yards of the stuff in my driveway and lots of wheelbarrow action til nightfall. (I'm still sore.)

About every evening is like that: If I don't have something to do already, someone shows up with a job. Like when my real estate agent came over and implied my house wasn't selling because of the carpet. There went a couple evenings pulling out carpet tacks in the dining room hardwood floor.

But I'm still having fun, even though I feel I've entered the most mind-numbing phase of the deal: talking to bankers. It's so hard wrapping my mind around all the numbers, terms, and whatever hidden surprises might surface on the paper once I get ready to sign. Plus, I've got a bunch of possible scenarios, thinking maybe I should build one house at a time (but which one?) or just building one at all (Mabel, of course!), or selling the Galusha lot, or just going for it with the 2-house construction blitz. One thing's for sure: I go to Coronado with an armload of data, a calculator, and come back with a plan.

Meanwhile, I've finally set the move party for July 10, which will put an end to my traipsing back and forth. Just eating breakfast and getting dressed in the morning calls for a couple of trips, now that the fridge is over there and one closet of clothes.

I can't wait to move in there. It's a darling place, and the paint colors the Grok God picked are perfect. With the place so small, each color forms a complementary background to the other, and you get this marvelous sense of traveling through a kaleidoscope as you pass through rooms.

2004-06-22T10:21:00.000-07:00

Well, it's not one of the better starts to the development week. I've been having trouble getting all my painting done, so every day I rush home from work and get started. And then I paint til the sun sets and the moon rises and the cats come out to prowl. Just last weekend, when I thought I could get it all done, I didn't -- despite putting about 20 hours into it.

So I'm a bit stressed out. Then yesterday I go home to find two nuisance notices stapled to the rail of Construction Headquarters. For having tall grass (excuse me, but some of that is Brussels sprout _forest_) and, get this, "rat harborage." I decide to go to work on the trim anyway, because I have to, and experience one of my most spectacular paint spills ever, all over the new marmoleum. What a beautiful day!

Now I'm waiting for the city inspector to call back and hoping I get as much time to address the grievance as, say, the operators of the meth house did across the street. They got a couple years; I just need some months.

I also need something good to happen soon.

2004-06-09T10:03:00.000-07:00

Here's the weird thing: It seems like nothing is happening, and everything is happening.

Out of all the active inertia, some details shine thru: Namely, I think we've got the structural engineer on board. He's all excited about this Dow product that makes a sandwich of styrofoam and concrete for the walls. It sounds ideal, but I need to find out more.

Construction Headquarters is meandering along toward completion. I got a toilet and dishwasher yesterday, so that pretty much gives the green light for move-in.

The Grok God and his elf came over Saturday to do the paint treatment in the living room and dining room. It was a lot of fun doing it, but the results? Terrible. Now we have to fix it. But, as I told the Grok God, Don't worry, I have lots and lots of time and money, ha. I wish we'd just left it alone.

Already, I've learned so much. And then there's the tasks that give me total bouts of nostalgia. Like varnishing the newly dipped door to the kitchen: Suddenly there I am back in Helena, as a kid, working alongside Mom and Dad to renew what had been a crumbling, subdivided Victorian. We all had plaster dust in our hair, fingers sticky with stain, and urethane fumes in our lungs. Slowly, the home's soul revealed itself, and we were happy.

2004-05-26T17:39:00.000-07:00

Big news week at the minidevelopment:

I may have a buyer for Galusha! Right now, I'm talking to the lawyers, drawing up a list of potential CC&Rs to attach to the lot, and thinking about a sales price for the land, but so far, so great. I mean, wouldn't it be cool to get a little cash infusion now, a spiritual partner in the endeavor, and less anxiety while at the same time feeling free to focus on Mabel and make it as great as it can be? Why, yes.

This morning, the builder delivered his preliminary numbers and guess what? They're high. We spent the next 2 hours scheming on how to make stuff cheaper, including deleting one of the second-floor balconies. Right now the price is about a third more than I thought it could be, so we have a lot of chopping to do.

On a creepy note, I was puttering around in the second floor of Construction HQ where I'm pretty convinced the Pirate was doing a grow operation. Why else would he silver out the windows so? Anyway, I walk the length of the floor, see a perfectly scraped-out circle in the paint on the south window and stoop down to look -- straight into my bedroom window. Thanks, Dennis. (Now I feel so exploited, I can use his real name.)

The marmoleum went down nicely on half the first floor. I love the Asian Tiger in the bathroom!

2004-05-20T15:36:00.000-07:00

Even though I haven’t been posting often, so much is happening. For instance, on Friday I had an incredibly productive meeting with the builder and the architects. Challenging as it is to build a couple cool houses on a tight budget, it still feels like fun.

Last weekend’s garage sale brought plenty of neighbors in to share the gossip on “the developer building the houses in back.” I was glad to have the chance to identify myself and sort hearsay from facts. So far, the neighbors have been overwhelmingly supportive; of course, most say they’re just glad the Pirate is gone and there’s no more homemade explosives bursting overhead.

Oh! And Jessica e-mailed me to talk about her Portland visit. She suggests doing an outdoor concert at Maggie’s Farm, in the half-acre or so behind Construction Headquarters. Tentative date: Friday, August 13. I’m thrilled not only because I get to see Jessica, but also that if this development is all about art and creativity, what better way to set it in motion? The show would, after all, be right around the time of the proposed groundbreaking.

2004-05-12T12:45:00.000-07:00

It occurred to me as I disassembled my work table in the studio last night that this is the first step in pushing Ma Nao Books underground -- to the basement next door, that is. I'm so paranoid about moisture in the basement, though, that I've put the paper collection in the attic, where it will get awfully hot, but I think (knock wood) that's the worst of it.

The drywallers are crawling all over Construction HQ, and it's incredible how much better the place looks as the walls form into smooth expanses.

The other night, I cleaned all the windows, and what a revelation. With every act of cleaning or renovation, the house feels that much more fresh and inviting. I'm beginning to think I know what dirt smells like.

Meanwhile, I prepare for the garage sale Friday and Saturday with Val, send out positive vibes toward potential purchasers of the yellow house, muse on paint colors for the new rooms, and wrack my brain trying to figure out where a towel bar will fit in the bath.

Looking forward, the builder, architect, and I meet Friday for our first big meeting. The floor plans for Mabel are starting to come together. I'm excited about the tower concept, the staircase that's a shaft of light, a big walk-in closet, and, most of all, the grooviness of the tango bindery.

2004-05-04T18:08:00.000-07:00

My house is on the market, and it's so neat and clean I feel like I'm living in a museum. In fact, I find myself going in and out the back door, as if I'm the servant. I can't wait to get rid of the thing -- and its corresponding mortgage payment. People ask if I'm sad to leave a place where I've spent so much time and money fixing things up, and heck no. I've got Construction HQ and, most important, Mabel! Yay Mabel. (Galusha, too.)

In all this activity comes the passing of my grandpa John, who died last week at 95. I stopped at his and Grandma IM's house on the way up for the funeral, and we all keenly felt the absence in his big chair and the spark of his being. I miss him already.

After all, I credit him with my developer-adventurer genes, because he loved travel, made stuff happen, and thrived on new projects. We're lucky we had him as long as we did. He was supposed to live forever! And, as Jules pointed out, he nearly did.

Here's the memory that poured out as I packed to drive north:

When I think of Grandpa John, I immediately think of two things: his room-filling laugh and the fact that he was at peace with himself, what he was doing, and what he had done.

The last time I visited, over Thanksgiving, I brought along my tango partner and we knocked, then entered the house. Quick as a wink, I saw Grandpa John jump to push the stop button on his tape player to greet us and give the afternoon to conversation.

He had the usual glint in his eye, and I asked what he was reading on his tape player. He grinned that sweet smile, and the glint in his eye grew brighter.

“Harry Potter,” he said.

Later my tango partner and I danced for him and Grandma IM, and Grandpa John watched, eyes agog, I like to think not because we are good but because tango is exactly Grandpa John’s kind of thing – that perfect combination of art, science, passion, engineering, and collaboration. All that and you don’t even need an environmental impact statement.

When our two-song performance was over, he paused and said, “Will you dance another one?” And we did.

Afterward he held and marveled at my tango shoes – and, again, as pieces of art and science he could appreciate them – the suede perfectly trimmed, the heel positioned just so.

It was one of so many times where he showed support, curiosity, and enthusiasm for whatever I was doing. Whether it was going to China, buying my house, or getting my ears fixed, Grandpa John was there with a keen interest, good questions, and gestures of love.

On that last visit, while Grandma IM and I fixed lunch in the kitchen, Grandpa John turned his attention to my tango partner and our upcoming trip to Argentina.

“You know, it can get a little scary down there in Buenos Aires. Be sure to take care of yourselves. Take care of her.”

So even though Grandpa John is not here, he’s always looking after us. And when I see him now, I think of him rid of his failing mortal coil, I think of him deep into his favorite creations of art and science – whether it’s fine woodwork, a perfect steamboat, or a satisfying Manhattan – and, most of all, I think again of his laugh and I imagine him, dancing.

2004-04-21T11:09:00.000-07:00

I was one of the first in line this morning at the city's Bureau of Development Services, to get approval of the draft easement. First and lasting impression: They make the Circumlocution Office look like a high-efficiency operation.

2004-04-20T17:16:00.000-07:00

It's a good thing I was practically born with a paint scraper in my hand, because the Pirate's house -- which I now call Construction HQ -- is tapping all my home-improvement skills. People ask what I did on the weekends, and I have to rack my brain, because these days it's just a seemingly uninterrupted stream of painting, cleaning, staining, varnishing, mowing the lawns, talking with contractors, and so on. Not that I'm complaining: I'm meeting a ton of interesting people and enjoying the physical and karmic turnabout of Construction HQ. For the latter, my neighbors have offered a smudging.

The good news is that with new, painted trim in place of the yucky baseboard heaters I have now completed two rooms so I can start moving things over. I met with my real estate agent Friday, and we're on a tight schedule getting the other house to market.

More good news: Our old family friend, Roy, son of my mom's college buddy, stops by the office last week. I ask what he's doing for work these days, and it turns out he subcontracts for the builder I interviewed a couple weeks ago. I liked that builder right off, because he reminded me of my brother and I felt at ease with him immediately.

Last week I spent two hours at George Morlan picking out fixtures and more time this morning deliberating over marmoleum and formica for the new kitchen. I was a little bummed that the wacky "newspaper" pattern of formica isn't on offer anymore, because it's fun choosing all these bold finishes that I know I won't have to live with forever. I think that's partly why I didn't second-guess the Grok God when he picked deep-sea "ethereal" blue for the living room ceiling and everywhere in the dining room. Of course, I try not to second-guess the Grok God on anything.

The kitchen was demo-ed to the studs last week, and boy does it look a lot better than the grossness that was there before. Even that weird old guy smell is lifting. One cool artificact that surfaced: a hammer with the initials M.F.B. carefully carved into it. Mabel's hammer! She lives on in my toolbox.

2004-04-12T12:30:00.000-07:00

Now I look forward to the start of the workweek because it signals an end to hard-core weekend laboring on Maggie's Farm. This time it was a bunch of landscape work at the "old" house, mowing the lawns ('natch), painting at the new place, and tucking away all the garage sale bounty that we came across on an innocent trip to the neighborhood coffee shop.

The patch job where the dining room ceiling caved in looks awesome. Why is it the easy things are turning out hard, and what I think will be hard is a piece o' cake? So, for instance, I've made about a zillion phone calls trying to get the surveyor and the lawyer — and their software programs — to connect, but the ceiling patch guy? He just came in, slapped up the Structurolite, and went on his way.

Another groovy item from one of the garage sales was a solid picnic table that I've put under the carport. It's where I imagine some alfresco meals and meetings as well as a place for the crews to sit and relax. These days there always seems to be a crew somewhere, doing something.

This week, the fab CDR crew is set to demo the kitchen and bath, which means I'm going fixture shopping.

2004-04-05T13:55:00.000-07:00

I spoke a little too soon in my last post about smiling every time I leave the architects' office, because Friday's meeting with the architect (#1 in my Tenpod troika, I suppose) left me a little dispirited. We put together our first pro forma on the project, and we kept ending up with a price for Mabel that's significantly more than I thought it would be. Even #1 Tenpodder was a bit miffed.

After thinking these deals would somehow earn me a heavily discounted, or even free (hahaha), house, and that I could eventually stop working for the man, I now realize I'll probably end up with a mortgage similar to what I was carrying before the refi.

It certainly gives me pause, and a chance to wonder whether it's worth it. Conversely, I've consoled myself a bit by saying I get my dream house for half the price. Or perhaps there's another angle I need to consider that'll serve up more cheer.

I could stay in one of the crumbling bungalows, to be sure, but I like making things happen, and building satisfies that urge. Construction is like bookbinding writ large; there's body (materials), there's soul (design), and the challenge is making them fit together seamlessly.

I put my fence and the Pirate's shed on craigslist and, poof, there they went. Now I can actually walk onto my back deck and check out the half acre, like I'm the mayor.

2004-03-31T13:44:00.000-08:00

Every time I meet with the architects, I come away smiling. It's so exciting to think of what will go up on the lots! Today we looked at Mabel in particular, and how to blend the first-floor exterior and interior spaces so that you get a sense of an expanse that wouldn't normally come with such a teeny parcel.

Plus, my architect loaned me the book "Residential Towers," whose title made me laugh. The projects in it, though, inspired me to have a perch for reading, writing, watching the sun rise and set ...

I love that it's turning out to be such a local project; the architects are half a block away; the surveyor, 2 blocks; the insurance agent, 1 block.

Meanwhile, I've turned the psychological corner on whether I could ever live in the Pirate's house. I think it's the amazing renewal of the white-oak wood floor that did it. Now I just have to finish out the multiple painting projects, get the easement, and put the old place up for sale.

2004-03-22T14:58:00.000-08:00

So here's what I've been writing when not posting real blog accounts: my first stab at programming. It's probably not all here, but it's a start.

The Intangibles

I have lived in Portland for most of the last 9 years, 6 of them at the current Beaumont location. I like the scale of the housing in the neighborhood as well as its multifaceted character. Although a significant part of the project is an elaborate driveway, I rely on bicycling and walking for most of my transportation.

I welcome the use of new/industrial materials, so long as I can be sure that they are low maintenance. In keeping with the idea to keep the development as hassle-free as possible, each lot should have its own garage(s) and the interior park/courtyard should be landscaped for low, preferably no, ongoing maintenance.

In addition, I would like Mabel to be the kind of place that I can leave for months at a time without worrying about constant upkeep and security.

From childhood, I have grown up around remodeling/construction projects large and small, and I am familiar with the decisions, pace, and difficulties. I prefer to be more involved rather than less.

The kinds of places that please me are those that are comfortable and practical rather than grand and impressive. I entertain often, but usually it is small groups or family. I do not have a television; I spend most of my time at home in my studio, office, or living room listening to music and/or visiting with friends.

Having lived in numerous places in the United States and abroad, I like design that embraces international, cosmopolitan influences. That said, one thing I really like about my current house, a bungalow, is its small no-nonsense spaces and well-thought-out flow. I also appreciate convertible spaces. In fact, the entire downstairs of Mabel should be able to convert into a one-bedroom apartment, if needed.

As a bookbinder and tango dancer, I want Mabel to include a large interior space (hereinafter called the “bindery space”) that can serve multiple uses.

Generally, I would like to see Mabel and Galusha take advantage of light, views, and passive solar opportunities.

The Particulars

Goal: To create 2-house development, a garage at the northern street-front house, access to 3 lots and design interior space between them.

First priorities:

• Plan access driveway to incorporate utilities and lead to garages/homes on 3 separate lots
• First task is to define easement size so that it can be recorded and southern street-front property put up for sale May 1. A survey has been ordered (due April 9).
• Give consideration to type of fence that might be installed along south side of easement.

General:

• Excellent drainage thruout
• Low maintenance materials thruout
• Good-quality windows
• Security
• Plantings to require minimal or no care after established.
• Middle courtyard could channel swale/roof and driveway runoff to keep plants watered
• Take advantage of views to Mount Hood, southwest along the Alameda Ridge, and trees
• Ample storage space, some of which may serve as a wall between rooms, and built-in shelving

Mabel (2,900 square foot lot; 1,450-square-foot allowable footprint, per city)

Downstairs, exterior
• Install existing bike rack, easily visible
• Covered walkway between garage and entry
• Distinctive entrance
• Private patio area opens from interior bindery space
• Carport leading to press room
• Prefer smaller number of windows, placed strategically and high

Downstairs, interior
• Large closet at entry
• One bath with shower
• Finishes: Marblecraft surround and counter, Kohler fixtures, Nutone fan
• Utility sink near bindery space
• Utility room?
• Small press room with good ventilation
• Open bindery space with following potential uses:
-- Tango events
-- Classroom/workshop space
-- Gallery
-- Pingpong championships
-- Performances
• Bindery space links visually and physically to outdoor patio
• Corner and part of wall of bindery space devoted to cabinets and counter

Upstairs, exterior
• Bulk of the house’s windows go here, although quality of light/view takes precedence over quantity

Upstairs, interior
• One bath, with tub and 2 sinks
Finishes: Marblecraft surround and counter, Kohler fixtures, Nutone fan
• Stairs open to kitchen or just outside (btwn LR and K?)
• Kitchen with eat-in space and good morning light
• Kitchen more private than open, but with good access to DR
Finishes, etc.: Gas stove, ventilation hood, DW, Ikea cabinetry, garbage disposer, large stainless steel sink
• LR with gas fireplace
• DR, which can be exceptionally small and divide off LR via pocket doors, wall-like storage unit, etc.
• Balcony, at least one
• Explore possibility of interior balcony to overlook bindery space
• MB, small with low ceiling, with large walk-in closet and possible sink & vanity
• Second bedroom
• 1/2 bath attached to second bedroom?
Finishes: Marblecraft counter, Kohler fixtures, Nutone fan
• Office area can be small, nooklike, as in a cutout in a hallway or it can be in corner of second bedroom
• Small reading or library area
• Laundry room with space for air-drying clothes on rack and sink
• Wall/s of built-in shelves

Exterior and roof
• Rastra-like block, Zinc aluminum, tin
• Roll-up doors

Challenges:
• Use modern materials and give house home feel
• Protect privacy while stealing views
• Enhance security without a fortress feel

Potential extras:
• Dumbwaiter for groceries, etc.
• In bindery space, flat shelves on roll-outs for large sheets of paper, prints, etc.
• Wall bed for the bindery space

Galusha (5,800 square foot lot)

General: Design around save-able existing cherry and pear-apple trees.

Could use Mabel layout as template, but rotate it 45 degrees, adding second garage and upstairs bedroom over it.

Northern street-front house

Install oversize single-stall garage to provide segue between old and new development.

2004-03-16T17:27:00.000-08:00

I know I should be focused on the more serious and long-term project of new construction, but right now every minute goes to fixing up the Pirate's house to make it livable. The Pirate stayed there 17 years, and you can bet not one day of it was spent cleaning house. I filled 2 vacuum cleaner bags of dirt and dust bunnies, _after_ sweeping and washing down the walls. Now it's TSP time in preparation for putting up some paint.

In all this drudge work, I've found a few nifty relics. Sometime around 1936, Galusha let roll a wheat penny and a (now retro) Rainier bottle cap into a crevice between the walls and floorboards — also a receptacle for Mabel's numerous hairpins. The Pirate left some rifle instructions, too, as reminder of the ammunition depot that was his house.

Programming continues for the new places. Today I received a much-sought copy of Stefanos Polyzoides' "Courtyard Housing in Los Angeles," and I dig it. A lot of it applies to warm weather climates but there is plenty in there re conscious use of interior-exterior space that appeals to me. My meeting with the architect happens Friday so I have a couple days to meditate on the book.

The Mabel and Galusha crew increases exponentially every week: Monday I hired the surveyors, yesterday a handywoman (for the Pirate's place), and a posse of folks is modifying my current place for sale soon. It looks like it all might actually happen. Cross fingers.

2004-03-08T16:29:00.000-08:00

Mabel and Galusha -- I mean, the people -- come into sharper focus now that I've heard some stories. The Native, my neighbor two doors down who's lived in Beaumont all her life, says Mabel was the sweetest woman you could ever hope to know. I was happy to hear that, because if she'd been the neighborhood witch I could never name a house for her.

And then there's Galusha. The Pirate, and I mean that in the best way possible: the rollicking way he talked, his swashbuckling gait even on land, and the wide eye-popping smile, who sold me the house ... he says Galusha was the first TIG welder in the state of Oregon and he amused himself with all kinds of wacky household projects. I asked about the holes and the cement pad outside near the back door, and the Pirate said they were for a swing set Galusha built that was taller than the house and probably visible from Scappoose.

The house has some strange elements, too, not including locks on the attic door, to keep the teenage daughter from taking off for escapades. But she had the last laugh, lowering herself out the south window into the wild night. The rope's still there.

2004-03-07T18:25:00.000-08:00

As of Saturday, I have the keys to the empire.

Now I just need to figure out how to dunk the new (old!) house into a vat of TSP.

2004-03-02T17:53:00.000-08:00

Vacation's over, but Buenos Aires sticks with me: the taxis swarming up Avenida 9 de Julio, the sleepy tree-lined streets of Palermo, and the cobblestone sidewalks lining rows of artful structures, with just enough decrepitude to keep things interesting.

The city has all the best of Europe mixed with a distinctive South American wide-openness. There are ornate buildings -- some imported directly from France block by block -- and there are those that are deliciously, futuristically simple. Under some shabby exteriors of peeling paint, steps worn down under the scrape of countless feet, and wrought-iron railings dulled by decades of rain, dust and sun, everything nevertheless exudes Quality. It speaks of materials and the craftsmanship.

Now that I'm about to embark on the programming for Mabel and Galusha, I'm thinking a lot about such things. For a while I was taken with the idea of copying Ricarda's beautiful Lunallena guesthouse, where we stayed in BsAs, but now I'm just trying to figure out what elements make it so beautiful.

The good news is: On Sunday, there was a massive dumpster in my neighbor's front yard, and he was chucking things into it all night. Better him than me; I'll have my hands full just making the plumbing and wiring upgrades and scrubbing the place clean. Also, the best news yet: I've picked my architect, who actually comes along as sort of a package deal with a design collective that works a half block from my house. From their office, they willl get to see Mabel and Galusha rising.

2004-02-12T11:14:00.000-08:00

Already I can sense that the decision on the architect will likely be the biggest one I'll make, after the decision to buy the land itself. On the latter, I still sometimes get these fleeting moments of What the Hell Am I Doing? But then I think of the synergy: that I've wanted to do this forever; that I've kept a clipping file for years on neat houses, tips on buying land, etc.; that it's a challenge I need; that it is in my own back yard; and that beautiful, well-designed spaces can set things right in one's more interior, mental spaces. For example: Scripps. The beautiful surroundings made my life there better and, I like to think, me better.

I've narrowed the architect list to three, and it seems the decision might come down to the even split in my tastes for both modern and classical. Are the preferences necessarily conflicting? Yesterday I was showing my colleague pictures of the hotel (a house, really) where we'll stay in Buenos Aires: www.milonguita.de/02-02-Argentinien/Ricarda. It looks like a combination of cool and comfortable; of course, it helps it's one of these grand houses in a venerable neighborhood, so the bones are solid and steeped in Old South America with Euro leanings. I love the little wrought-iron porches; they recall romance and Rapunzel.

The lawyer left a message yesterday, and I had to smile. He's perplexed by the same lack of straight answers I encountered with regard to utilities' easement needs. I think of Dickens' Circumlocution Office, except the people you talk to here in Portland really are friendly and willing to help. They just don't want to divulge any magic numbers. More likely, it's that the magic numbers don't exist -- until, of course, an easement plan is put in front of them and it may be determined to be "too small" or simply "not right." Maybe I should plot it with a Ouija board.

As busy as my mind is with getting Mabel and Galusha going, about all I can think about lately is finally fixing the drainage issues on my current house. I woke up agonizing about the size of the gravel I'll need and how much of it, as well as how big the holes should be in the perforated pipe. One thing's for sure: I can't wait to get rid of the five-year headache. It could be as soon as this weekend!

2004-02-04T16:00:00.000-08:00

Earlier this week, the "Sale Pending" sticker went up on the realtor's sign next door. Yippee.

Just about every day some progress is made, even though the closing date isn't for a few weeks yet. Last week I met with the lawyers on the easement issue. It sounds like they might not need a survey, which makes me happy. Of course, I may end up having to get a survey later down the road anyway, but I'll pay that bill when I come to it.

Then, on Saturday, the Grok God -- my graphic designer savior -- plotted the driveway in Adobe Illustrator. It's so cool to see it there, on paper, and how it neatly covers every single corner of the four properties. Call it the driveway that binds. Of course, I aim to social-engineer the hell out of it so in no way can an RV get back there or an SUV.

Today I was reminded of how small Portland is. I was on the phone asking the guy at the Bureau of Environmental Services about sewer hookup. When I gave him the address of the property, he blurted out, "Hey, that's a friend of mine! I spent a lot of time over there, and we talked about his back lots all the time."

Speaking of my neighbor, I pulled the permits on his house, which go all the way back to excavation in 1929 and lo, here's a permit in 1989 for "oil to gas furnace." But then I remembered in the disclosures how he'd said there was no oil tank on the property, the bane of many Portland homeowners. So my realtor and I call my neighbor's realtor, who calls my neighbor, who says he was using coal to heat his house up until 1989. I wish I had a recording of my realtor saying, "Where was he buying coal in the city of Portland in 1989?" For now, I've got to believe him. Or I can track him down in Idaho later. Right.

Still, it occurs to me the coal thing fits right in with the primitive-ness of this whole deal. There was a permit, I noticed, issued to Mabel Bailey for a cesspool in 1967, the year I was born. Who knows what gadgets I plan to put in my house that will be considered antique in a few decades?

What kind of name is Galusha anyway?

2004-02-01T19:57:00.000-08:00

Xin nian kuai le! (Happy New Year!)

This year I sent out Year of the Monkey cards, co-opting a page from a 1934 reference book meant to teach Chinese people the American slang of the day.

One of the book's entries is "Monkey with a buzz saw," described thus: "To take a dangerous chance." Right next to the English definition are 2 tiny old-style Chinese characters, and they seem to indicate how easy it would be to express such a thing in Mandarin. It fits into the overall sense of irony I get from many things Chinese: The complex is simple, the simple turns out to be, well, mind numbing.

The expression's apt for me because I'm closing in a month on the property next door. There's 2 empty lots in back, and I mean to build there. In researching at county deeds and records, I saw the lots were bought by Mabel and Galusha Bailey, back in the 1940s, and that seems to fit the character of the lots themselves as well as the houses I have in mind.

So far I've been calling the house meant for the undersize lot, what I hope will be a tiny well-designed jewel, Mabel. Galusha, of course, will go in the bigger, oversize lot.

I can hear the monkey and her buzz saw now.