NINE DAYS OFF

So I have been left in the lurch (what the hell does that mean? What's a lurch, other than a tall butler that lives with the Addams Family?) by my mean old boss Steve. HE is off to Maine for a week of fun and sun and worrying about shutting down his business for a week while his wife forces him to take some well-deserved time off. I jest about him being mean; he's a great guy and a pleasure to work with/for.

But I am also forced to take time off.

From my job.

You didn't think I would take time off from THE FARM, didja?

I took a day off this January (it was fifty degrees!) and felt terrible every minute I wasn't working on the Farm. Haven't taken another. I have no idea how to relax, mostly because I have to get this thing to a certain level of restoration before I refinance it later this year.

THEN maybe I can take a day off. It'll still take me forever to learn to relax.

So.

For the past two months, I made my plan, got the materials together, gathered and milled the wood I needed, bought paint, and found all my interior restoration equipment, put up two years ago when I finished the kitchen ceiling.

I planned for this Nine Days, knowing that I'd be doing it at the hottingest part of the year. So I made sure to be able to beat the heat by again setting up in the cellar. Last year I spent a number of evenings there, having made a small sitting area with chair and lights and table so I could listen to radio or old cassette tapes from the stereo upstairs, piped into the cellar by the magic of Speakers B. Yes, I have those (cassette tapes, I mean)! Don't smirk! It's seventy down there when its ninety five outside. And it was just that for a week and a half until just after Independence Day this year. I was more ready than last year. I put one of my seldom-used 24" flat screen TeeVees down there, hooked it into my giant rooftop antenna, and BOING! I get two PBS stations. All I can handle.

Then it got cool and I haven't been down there to watch. Don't worry, I will. Most of July and all of August (not to mention the first half of September, a summer month up here)

But not this week!

I be working!

I'll post a few times, rather than saving it up for eight months like last time.

I spent some time this spring building doors for the garage. I want some measure of security as well as some curb appeal. I lightly sanded some eighteenth century white pine floorboards with up and down saw kerfs and a nice chocolate patina (no, they HAD those, I didn't sand them with them!), then made vertical doors from them. Those sat in the garage for a few months until I got tired of them not doing their job, then I put them to work. I liked them so much that I decided the cinder blocks at either side were a sore sight in comparison, so on the Fourth of July (and the following eighth), I did something about it.

This is the reason I had to hide the cinderblocks. They were likely red at one time, but red fades to orange, my most unfavoritest color. First task; pressure wash the moss on the roof! Or off the roof. Half done in this pic. Trust me, I finished, and it looks magnificent.

This is the side facing the street. I do my large makeup work in there; doors and windows, big pieces of wood that need cutting, and all my sanding. My smaller machine shop is too crowded with...machines. That shop also gets over a hundred twenty in the afternoon, and this one is shaded. Yes, I planted trees on the south side of the machine shop, but give them time. Sheesh!

The first real task was to pressure wash the cinderblock. This was done the day before; notice most of the orange is gone. I should have primed it, but I'm lazy and cheap. Mostly cheap.

Now you can see why I had to do something with the cinderblock. Doors, YA! Walls, NEIN! The doors are not complete, and though they lock from the inside, they will, by winter, have interior battens to keep out the wind, as well as an exterior latch/lock and an astragal. That's the piece between the doors that makes them a single unit when closed. Look it up.

Even before I pressure washed the walls, I had to dig a drainage trench to divert water that has flooded my dirt floor garage since before I moved here. I will eventually put a Zurn-type drain in, but the trench will do for now.

Because I work alone, I must use certain techniques to compensate for my preferred lack of yucky human companionship. This is one; a Third Hand. Holds the lintel trim board in place as I nail the other end.

Don't forget to glue the back of the lintel trim board! I'm only nailing to the wood frame, and most of the trim rests on the cinderblock. no, I didn't backprime it. You'll see why. I framed the opening for this set of doors in November of 2013; it was one of the first tasks I did after getting heat, water, and my furniture into the house proper. Took me long enough to do this!

 

The board was slightly warped, so I used one masonry screw to bring it tight to the wall. It's countersunk, and I'll fill it with Durham's Water Putty (a great product, and I highly recommend it) and color it in with ineldible India ink later. Ingullible. Inedible. That's it. Inedible. I know, I've tried. Tastes terrible. Turns your tongue brown for a month. EEEEewwwww.

Cutting a large rabbet (or is it a dado? I think it is) with a circular saw. This allows the side trim to ride over the strap hinges. Oh My!

Strap hinges. It's the square part I need to ride over. Well, the trim, anyway. And pardon the dangling preposition, and those that climb about on their own, as well. The white stuff is silicone, which is an excellent adhesive. I used masonry screw to attach the pressure-treated 2x10s to the cinderblock back in 2013, and despite modern PT lumber's tendency to cup, it did no such thing. Silicone holds it in place very well.

Knock out the wood with a straight claw hammer and clean it up with chisel. Learned this technique in '77 as an apprentice carpenter to Mike Foerster. He instilled me with my  love of craftsmanship. Hey Mike! Give me a call! Haven't seen him since 1979...

BTW, all this white pine, which was likely milled in the 1740s and was prolly three of four hundred years old THEN, was already sanded and coated with an oil-based clear coat thinned 2:1 with paint thinner so it would soak in, repel water, and not look shiny. One coat did it.

Ugly, in't it?

Finally trimmed out. Just needs one more thing…

Tools for the job. I junked the crappy towel for a better one I'd been saving for such an occasion, and the results showed that this was a better choice. I've had that hawk (called a hock in England) for thirty years.

California Stucco is a pleasure to work with. Though it's only made of lime, sand, and Portland cement, it costs fifty dollars per 94 lb. bag. Took a bag to do 1 side. Worth it, though. It was 93 degrees and eighty per cent humidity on Independence Day in Preston Connecticut. I'm sure there were thousands sweltering ten miles away on the beaches of New London, Stonington, and Misquamicut RI. You can have that. I'd rather be in the shade, splattered with cold water and stucco, and doing something useful. Besides, I gots red hair and fair skin. Me and The Fat Old Sun don't get along so good. That Fat Old Sun was westering heavily, and I ached liked I'd just emerged from Dead Dog #2 (the most dangerous and challenging cave in Austin Texas), so I cleaned up and called it a day until the next weekend, when I'd finish the other side.

Meet my little fren'. Thirty inches wide, it blows a hurricane. Five bucks at The Annual New London Unitarian Church Tag Sale. Hey, Sher! This fan's for you!

I've seen a lot of critters around my house, but this domestic turkey was a new one on me at coffee on the following Sunday morning. Took the pic through the screen. Some of my neighbors keep chickens, and I suppose this must be an addition to those. It strutted around the front yard, paying no attention to the seeds scattered at the foot of the bird feeder. The dogs went apeshit, screaming and barking and calling 911. But the thing was very comfortable, and didn't seem fazed at the dogs' uproar. Eventually even THEY quieted down, apparently getting used to it (or realizing their barking did nothing to intimidate it). It paced and gobbled, clucked and warbled. I went out to see if it would come to me, and it did. I beat a hasty retreat back into the house. I have no treats for such a thing, and trust not a bird in the world. Especially one this size. Birds bite. A small dark rectangle can barely be seen on its breast; a homing device, perhaps. It was gone in about an hour.

That's better. I'll paint the hinges a flat black and the stucco a cream. Prolly use a dark brown for the scallopy wood above. When I have time....HA HA HA HA ha ha ha !!!!!!! Ohhh, my.....

NEXT POST:

TRIMMING OUT THE KITCHEN, DEMOING THE BATHROOM, AND PAINTING THE BEDROOM AN UPPER BATHROOM WALLS. AND MAYBE SOME BATHROOM WAINSCOT...

VERY, VERY SOON.