Head Stone

My friend Carrie's kitty passed away last week after enduring some months of ill health. The kitty was old for a kitty (15) and was loved very much.

Carrie's husband wanted to do something for the kitty, and asked me if I had any ideas. My foray into pet product retail work taught me that pet retailers try to accomodate owners by offering grave markers, but that the commonly stocked markers aren't anything special. Knowing this, I told her husband that I could think of something more fitting for the kitty and her bereaved owner.

Some years ago, my sister gave me some terracotta pots so I could start a window sill herb garden. To keep my pots straight, I bought some Deco Art Patio Paint. It's an acryllic paint line that is supposed to be outdoor safe, colour-safe and weather proof. I knew I could use this for the marker, but I had to think of something to put it on. On a trip to Home Depot to scope out tankless water heaters, I found a 6" x 8" x 1.5" travertine paving stone, similar to this one. It's smooth, cream surface was perfect, and the heft of the paver meant that it could be a suitable grave marker.

Carrie likes sunflowers, so I sketched out an idea for the marker, and got her husband's approval on it. Then I collected what I'd need to complete the marker (brushes, paints, cleaned paver, and water). I used Sunshine Yellow, Red Pepper, Woodland Brown, Cloud White, and Wrought Iron Black for the sunflower and lettering.

The sketch is upside down in the top left hand corner of the pictures, beneath the brush tips.

I pencilled in my pattern, and began to paint. The Patio Paint instructions warn not to dilute the paint with water, so I had an interesting time blending the colours. It took several applications to get the opacity I was looking for in the petals, so I had plenty of opportunity to colour-correct and modify the design. To achieve the impression of the seeded center of the flower, I stippled on white mixed with brown, went over it with black, and then again with brown, stippling the whole time.

For the letter, I hand-wrote the words. I tend to prefer organic compositions, so I didn't bother to use reference lines for straightness and letter height. The paint had a tendency to get gloppy (it's a word!) as it started to dry, so some of the lines weren't as crisp as I wanted, but they aren't really that noticiable, unless you're examining it with a magnifying glass. For the inscription, I used the Colette quote, "There are no ordinary cats."

This is the finished project.

Here's the picture, with the flash, and you can see the side profile of the stone.

If you look REALLY closely at the top right hand corner, you can see the spaghetti and meatballs I made for dinner!

I think it turned out well, and in the VERY VERY VERY VERY far future when we'll need one for one of our beasties, I'll know how to do it.

It's a Woman's Prerogative

A few weeks back, we were on what has become a routine shopping trip to Lowes. We were looking for a non-gaudy ceiling medallion to cover up the hole I created when I repositioned the junction box in the ceiling to accomodate the ceiling fan. We had previously struck out at Home Depot--all they had were ugly, daisy/rose/geometric-covered motifs that induced nausea--so we were hoping Lowes would have something that better matched the two other medallion designs in the house. I still plan on posting about the ceiling fans--yes, plural. We bought another one! But this post is about something else entirely.

As we walked down the grand aisle entrance of our local Lowes, we were immediately drawn to the boldly labeled CLEARANCE stickers on hundreds of various items stacked on tables. We love a bargain, so we were in heaven.

Long story short, I got a very pretty/moderately ornate 9-bulb chandelier to replace the simple 5-bulb chandelier I had gotten from ReStore and installed a month or so ago (that prompted the Pop Pop Sizzle ordeal referenced below). So, on this past particularly productive Saturday, we hunkered down, installed the new ceiling fan, and installed the new chandelier. I did the wiring while poor John supported the weight from the massive thing (it's not really that heavy, but holding something above your head for a long period of time while someone else fumbles around with wires gets to be majorly tiring).

Here's the old light:

And here's the new light:Lovely, don't you think? As soon as I refinish the dining room table and get it in, we'll figure out how much we want the chandelier to hang down. For now, the chain is just pooled a the top of the fixture.

Since the $199 chandelier was on clearance, I snagged it for a mere $75. So, including both ceiling fans, we're up to the grand total of about $490 to replace the vast majority of lights in our house. I feel pretty damned good about that!

Tyger, Tyger Burning Bright

John, in his advanced years, has become a bit of an energy miser, and ridicules my love of incandescent bulbs (I SWEAR basic flourescent lights give me head aches! The outdoor lighting aisle of Lowes is akin to an iron maiden!). And I admit that the ridicule I endured for owning a Prius but not sorting my recycling has made me decidedly more consciously green.

I read online somewhere that people who experience headaches from flourescent lights are sensitive to the temperture of the light. Incadescent light hovers around 2700K, while standard flourescent bulbs put out a harsher 6500K. The lower the temperture, the warmer (redder) the light, so the higher the tempeture, the cooler (bluer) the light. The photo below (from Wiki) illustrates this point quite well.

Popular Mechanics has a very imformative article about this. It compares various lights/brands.


John and I read up on this back in 2007, and after searching high and low, we finally found some CFLs that are >2700K, so we've replaced almost all of our lighting with these. They're not too horrid and painful. I think I'll still horde some incandescents, so if banning legislation ever passes, I'll be a bulb-bootlegger.

"What We Have Here is a Failure to Communicate."

That's what the first wire said to the second and third wires.

The story starts out a few weeks ago. Just before we decided to replace the light fixture in the dining room, the old light went out. We thought it was nothing major--just a burnt out bulb. So after I triumphantly got the new fixture wired in while John dutifully supported the weight of the chandelier, John turned the breaker back on, we flipped the switch....and.....nothing. Not a single bulb flickered to life.

WTF, I wondered. I figured I messed the wiring up or something (yes, I admit to making mistakes).

The "pop....pop.....sizzle" from the switch plate prompted John to quickly run outside to turn the breaker off.

I pried open the switch plate, pulled out the switch, and saw a lovely mess of THREE different 14-gauge cables connected to the single tiny switch.

"WTF," I said aloud.

WTF, indeed.

The lovely owner/builder of our lovely abode thought it was perfectly acceptable/intelligent/legal to put three different wire cables into the same switch. Riiiiiight. Mike Holmes (John's personal hero) would be disgusted.

We taped off the wires, replaced the switch to prevent anything from getting in there, and lived without a light in the dining room/hallway, or power outlets on that part of the house.

The unlighted-light. Beautiful, isn't it? A STEAL from Habitat's Restore!

A few weeks ago, John talked to our neighbour across the street (Frank). He's an electrical engineer for Cal Edison and moonlights as a handyman, so John asked him if he come take a look at our electrical sometime (we have issues with the dish washer/disposal, the switch plate for the ceiling fan, the circuit for the garage......etc etc etc). So yesterday when we got home from a trip to Lowes for a ceiling medallion and some painting supplies for the downstairs master (as soon as it's done, we'll post piccies), Frank came over and asked if would be a good time to look at the wiring. He gathered his tackle-box full of wonderful electrical gadgetry, and met us inside. I made appropriate excuses for the embarrassing amount of boxed clutter that still dominates the downstairs, and Frank got to work prying open the switch.

"What the heck!" he exclaimed as he saw the rat's nest* of cables (he's much more polite than I, but I'd like to think he actually self-censored and was secretly thinking "WTF").

Frank went back to his house for reinforcements in the form of expensive but handy tools, meters, and sensors, and in no-time, he had figured out what was going on. The builder had run a single 14-gauge cable to the light switch. From there, he ponied in two other 14-gauge cables, ran one to the opposite side of the wall to for the light switch that powered the light in the hallway, and the other cable was run down the wall and provided power to the single gang power socket below the light switch, which provided the power for another piggy-backed socket further down the wall.

Ye-haw. Genius!

Frank got everything hooked back up, reconnected the ground for the two light switches and two of the three sockets grounded (the other socket has something going on with the grounding wire below the house, so we'll have to figure that out later) and replaced all the switches and plates and made everything beautiful again. And miraculously, all the lights and outlets worked without the symphonic POP SIZZLE that previously accompanied their use.

Yay for Frank!

Next, John asked him to take a look at the garbage disposal/dishwasher outlet. Basically, what's wrong is that the outlet only has one socket that works, and that socket is the one controlled by the switch above the sink. So we can never use the dishwasher and disposal at the same time (which is just as well because, despite its inherent convenience, the dishwasher is only ever used for a drying rack for all the hand washed dishes....an expensive drying rack, mind you). Frank figured out that the issue wasn't with the socket it self (as everything appeared to be wired correctly), so he decided it was more likely an issue with the switch.

After getting the plate off, Frank exclaimed "What the Heck!" again (this time with a capital "H"). Evidently, our lovely builder/owner ran a single 14-gauge cable to the switch, and divided it among: the disposal, the dish washer, the power outlet, the light above the sink, another power switch, and the complete lighting circuit for the Strip in Vegas. That's right, the cluster-fork of cables in the dining room switch was nothing compared to the cluster-fork of cables connected to our kitchen. Yippee!

So John and Frank discussed the options and looked around outside. For whatever reason, the house has an electric water heater (despite it's insanely close proximity to the gas line for the GAS STOVE and GAS DRYER) which appears to be wired correctly on a dual 30 amp circuit. John and I hate that we have an electric water heater, so we were hoping to replace it with a gas water heater at some point in the future. Conveniently, Frank's brother-in-law works for the gas company, and Frank seems to think that his brother-in-law could switch out the water heater no problem for around $200 in labor. That would free up a 30 amp circuits for correctly wiring the kitchen and a 30 amp circuit for the garage (so John will have an excuse to buy the table saw that he REALLY wants instead of settling for the table saw he got a good deal on). Best of all, Frank thought his electrical work would be about $200 in labor. So there's a good possibility we could get the gas water heater (maybe even tankless!) and electric wired correctly for under $1000. Plus, the water heater would likely qualify for a $150-200 rebate from SoCal Gas for increased energy efficiency.

And we only forked over $40 for Frank to do all this. Thanks, Frank! To celebrate, I made mojitos for Frank, Josh and me (and put Frank's in an adult sippy-cup to go) while John took a swig from his Mug Rootbeer.

* In actuality, no self-respecting Rat would be caught dead with that mess of cables. So, out of respect for all self-respecting Rats out there, I apologize. But I'm sure you Rats out there know at least ONE Rat that lives in utter squalor, so I'm referring to that piggy Rat, and not to you.

The Blight of the Neighbourhood

It seems fitting that our house is affectionately referred to as The Chocolate Lava House among certain members of the neighbourhood. Unfortunately, it's more than just the brown stained concrete than lends itself to the name: there's also the D E A D yard in front and back. I swear it's not just laziness that keeps the yard D E A D. It's also frugalness (no increased water bills! no maintenance bills! no nursery bills!) and lack desire (at least for now) to do anything outside the house when there's so many things inside the house that need work.

It's funny...when we first started looking at houses, we started REALLY watching HGTV and the DIY Network, hoping to glean some sort of expertise on the process. Something that occurred to my after hours and hours of watching House Hunters and Property Virgins was there was a distinct difference in what different age groups were looking for in landscaping. On the segments that featured slightly older people, they were highly interested in yard and grass and property size, while the younger people would balk at the enormous lawns and list it as a con when discussing the property.

My parents and grandparents have/had beautiful oases in the semi-arid region of Southern Idaho. Wide expanses of manicured grass, beds of colourful flowers, thriving trees and shrubs...and as much as I love to see these gorgeous plantings, it just ain't for me. Perhaps I'm missing that nurturing gene/instinct where I love the feeling of fresh mulch on my hands, of watching seedlings grow into thriving flora, of taking pride in creating some transient beauty out of soil. Maybe it'll be different when it's my yard I'm working in, but I somehow doubt it (the bougainvilleas I purchased and potted when we were living at the condo can attest to this...well, they could if they had lived. But they didn't. le sigh, le tear).

Here's the back yard when we first looked at the house.

And this is what it looked like this past Wednesday.

Now, in our defense, this is completely intentional (I swear!). And when the first picture was snapped back in January, it was during the so-called rainy season and the greenery there were entirely volunteer plants. And the house had been vacant for over a year, so any grass that HAD been on the property was long D E A D and not by my hand. Now why's it intentional? We've actually killed any non-tree or cactus growing on the property using Round Up and a weed whacker just to eliminate weeds. And while it makes the property look entirely barren (and keeps our cars nice and dusty), it means less work outside. And while the neighbours might grumble as they walk/drive by, I think they are secretly (perhaps DEEEEEP down) appreciative that we're doing our duty by keeping the weeds dead and thereby preventing cross-contamination. Hey, we're helping them out!

When we decide to spend money on the curb appeal and fix the front and back yards, we plan on Xeriscaping. The local water district has a very beautiful low-water garden with loads of ideas on how to create a beautiful yard with minimal environmental impact. If you're in the area, it's definitely worth it to check it out. They also have a lovely and informative booklet that includes a comprehensive listing of all plants that thrive in the Inland Empire. When we do move ahead on our xeriscaping plans, one of John's Karate acquaintances works for an organization that evaluates the water-wiseness of landscapes, and he offered recommendations and help in creating our perfect low-maintenance, high-impact yard.

In the meantime, we'll deal with the glares from the neighbours and the dusty cars and furniture. Lucky for us, it's Hip to be Green now. So yay for the Prius and Hybrid Civic parked in the front drive way, and yay for the D E A D yards flanking the house. We're being Green by living Brown!

The City of Dis

I'm pretty sure Dante was a time-traveller, and somehow wound up in our master bedroom during an Inland Empire heat wave, and was thereafter inspired to put quill to paper and pen one of written language's greatest tomes.

Our house is on the slopes of a rather large hill, with somewhat spectacular panoramic views around the neighbourhood below. Our master bedroom is southfacing and is saturated with direct sunlight all day. And while that placement means I can potentially grow some mean orchids in the house and Echinacea in the yard, it also means that the upstairs gets EXTREMELY hot.

I'm an obsessive and methodical sort of person, so when something bothers me, I analyze it to death. The thermostat for the house is in the walk-through bedroom/office upstairs, so I glance at it every day when I turn on the AC when we get home from work. I also have a temperture gauge in our master bedroom, and check that every day, as well. On average, the master bedroom is 7 degrees hotter than the room right next door. And a full 15 degrees hotter than any room downstairs.

Now with the 15' vaulted ceilings and the single AC vent about 11' up, the cold air from the AC unit doesn't really circulate too well throughout the room, so I always have a tower fan below the vent in a pathetic attempt to spread the joy. Given these circumstances, if I turn the AC on at 5:30, we're lucky if the master bedroom is down to a balmy 79 degrees by the time we go to bed at midnight. And I'm a freakishly finicky sleeper in that I require total darkness (I wear an eye mask), total silence (I wear earplugs) and total cold (windows open in the winter!), so 79 degrees just ain't cutting it.

View into the master bedroom from the doorway; taken during our first visit to the property.

I made a deal with John where if he bought the screen doors and materials to make screens for the windows, I would buy a portable AC unit. And people, I did just that! I don't trust my own judgement in purchasing large ticket items like that, so I deferred to John for making the make/model decision. He found what seemed like a smoking deal at Costco for a 13,500 BTU dual-hose system, and I shelled out the buckeroos for the shiney bad-boy (including $40 to have to have it shipped to the house). And it was delivered yesterday. Giddy, we unpackaged it on our lunch and John hefted it upstairs (the thing is freaking heavy!!). Before getting ready for bed last night, I put the thing together (piece of cake!) and got it set up in the middle dormer window. This was all at 11PM, and within 50minutes, the temperature on the other side of the room had dropped three full degrees.

"I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship..."

Let There Be Light!

One of the easier lipstick changes we've made to the house is replacing the existing light fixtures to give a more unified feeling. I'm cheap and always on the hunt for a bargain, but I also have very particular thoughts on what I like and unfortunately, the stuff I like is rarely a bargain. My family members are masters at finding slamming deals at thrift stores, sourcing out cool lamps, chairs, paintings, tables, and other various gems. I didn't inherit that gene, and am frequently left wistfully marveling at their finds. Add in John's teasing/mocking everytime we pass by a thrift or bargain store, and my inability to find something worthwhile, I just stopped going to them, and therefore miss out on oodles of cheap, quality furniture.

When we were first looking for a house, we were REALLY interested in a 1909 Craftsman in a transitional neighbourhood of Riverside. It was a block away from a historic residence, and three blocks away from a local hooker hangout. But it was charming and spacious and beautiful. One of John's karate friends offered to take a look over our offer/the bank's counter offer on the place, and mentioned that he knew of a vendor in Riverside that had a huge variety of period-specific building supplies (windows, door knobs, original flooring, etc). John and I tried to find the place, eager to scope out what it would take to restore the house to its original splendor. Try as we might, we weren't able to find it. But we did find Riverside's Habitat for Humanity's ReStore. Since discovering it, we take one lunch hour a week to stop by and look for bargain-priced treasures ranging from antiques, gently used, to brand-spanking new.

We've since bought several light fixtures to replace the:

* Classy 80s-style gold-toned pieces in the house* Tiny nickle pieces expected to light an entire room

* Euro-style energy-hogging halogens
* Ugly industrial sconces
* Bare bulbs
* And just plain darned un-appealing
Between the ReStore and deals at Costco and Amazon, we've been able to swap out almost all the lights in the house to only a few different styles with a unifying appearance.

The halogen pendants in the downstairs bathroom, kitchen, and the foyer were switched out for these ($30 each from ReStore)

For the sconces throughout the stairwell, and the upstairs office/bedroom and the laundry room, we put in these ($15 each at ReStore)
A new pendent in the dining room ($35 at Restore)

More light in the windowless upstairs on-suite bathroom ($15 each at Costco)

We added a ceiling fan to the AC-ventless living room by replacing an ugly gold-toned light (biggest splurge at $99 from Amazon)

The ceiling fan was an ordeal, so I'll post about that separately, later.

All in all, I'd say we've spent around $340.

Now all that's left is the puny industrial sconce in the master bedroom (1-bulb to light an enormous room!) and add another ceiling fan in the living room. Then we can tackle the outside lighting! Man, I feel accomplished.

Thar Be Treasures!

The previous owners had painstakingly run a single length of coax cable from one side of the upstairs master bedroom to the middle of the wall. And by painstakingly, I mean they pulled up the edge of the carpeting and slapped the cable down and pushed the carpet back over it, snaking it haphazardly along the perimeter of the room. And then called it a day. And thus, the house was labelled "Cable Ready."

Not so, insisted John. For the first few weekends in our lovely new house, John crawled under the house in a super stylish Tyvek elastic coverall suit, drilling holes in the floor and side of the house and battling ants and spiders for underworld domination. He ran multiple lines of coax, cat5 and string pulls to every room of the downstairs, installed back boxes/mounting boxes, faceplates, and jacks so every room was hard cabled for cable, internet, and telephone. After he got the downstairs of the house mostly-complete, he started on the upstairs.

In the corner of the master bedroom, he cut a small hole in the knee wall to run the pull lines. Somehow (and I still haven't figured out what really necessitated it), he wound up cutting out a larger hole (10" w x 12" h). Tucked into the cavity behind the knee wall was a modest collection of the owner/builder's junk mail. Evidently, he was a single man that was frequently invited to Jewish Mixers. Go fig.

In addition to the lovely 10-year-old bits of postal garbage was a lovely (term used loosely) lamp base. Taduh!

What a beaut! The wiring looked like it had been scavenged by a resourceful rodent, and the metallic finish on the base has largely flaked off, but I just can't bring myself to toss the artifact. Perhaps I'll spray paint it all white and rewire it.

It certainly makes me wonder what other lovely treasures are hiding in our walls (aside from, you know, the many colonies of ants that lurk in the rafters).

The Story of Chocolate Lava

One of the challenges we've had with the house is that we have had to replace the screen doors and windows (because, you know, we don't like bugs, bats, and beggars to have free and ready access to the house when a window's open--crazy, I know). What's been especially challenging is finding a screen door for the backyard slider.

The door panels themselves are very tall (95") and very narrow (30"), and we hadn't been able to find a stock screen door at Home Depot or Lowes. Rather than installing an expensive retractable, we decided to go with a screen made specifically for the door by the original manufacturer.

Lo and behold, there was a Milgard dealer in Riverside, fairly close to our work. Recently, we stopped by during our lunch hour, and explained to the owner what we were looking for. We told him the measurements, and he was quite perplexed as they're not standard. He casually asked us where the house was, and we gave him the rough location, and then the street name. He said he was familiar with the area and in fact lived further up on the hill. He then asked us which house we bought. As we tried to explain the location/appearance of the house, he said "You don't mean the Chocolate Lava house, do you?" Assuming he was talking about a house further down the street, we kept on describing the house, how it's the only house on the street that's not a 70's era Ranch House.

"That really sounds like the Chocolate Lava house," he said. And then he described the house on a slope with brown-stained concrete, and it finally occurred to us that he was talking about the our house.

So thank you, Tim, for giving us the slider door lock (for free!) and for giving our house a name. We might not have walked out of your fine establishment with a screen door, but we walked out with an identity!

Welcome to the Chocolate Lava House!

Updated 11-3-2009.

When John and I became homeowners in late February, 2009 (whoops, I mean March 5, 2009), we had all these plans and visions for what we were going to do with our spectacular house with equal measures of problems and potential. We sat down and made a long list of all the things we wanted to so with the house, things we needed to fix, stuff we wanted to upgrade, etc., from short term projects (cleaning up the extremely neglected yard) to those that took a bit of cash (swap out the toilets to more ecological/economical dual flushers) to long range goals (like adding dormers to the back side of the upstairs).
We started out making the changes and upgrades at a relatively rapid pace, and I'd tell different family members about what we were doing, leaving out details and forgetting to tell someone something that was going on. Soon, our enthusiasm for Home Improvement waned and I got tired of telling the same story over and over again, so I decided that a BLOG would be a great way to centrally locate all the projects AND provide motivation for completing them, one by one. Thus, the BLOG was born.
So now, instead of relating stories of our (too few) triumphs and (too many) failures to various people, I curtly tell them to read the blog.