Archive for Home base
December 26, 2007 at 11:53 pm · Filed under Home base
Our last house took eight years to complete. Actually, we never completed it. What I should say is that when we sold it after eight years of on-and-off work, it was 90% complete. To get there we spent many a night and weekend painting, cutting trim, nailing, sanding, staining, and tweaking. So when we started this project, my motto was “I’m not doing it myself.”
Doing it yourself can be a source of pride. You can learn new skills and save money. You can also learn expensive lessons, as we did many times. I’m not against DIY projects in general — I think they’re fine for people who want to do them — but in this case neither Eleanor nor I have anything to prove. We just want it done and we’re OK with the concept of writing checks to get there, if it means we don’t have to spend hours on our knees with a brush or a pneumatic nailer again.
But there I was today, on my knees, mopping the floor with a big yellow sponge saturated with sealant. I could have had the painter’s crew do it but it would have caused delays (floors always do). Each coat of the floor requires a drying time and that means people standing around waiting instead of working efficiently. And, without some protection the new slate was likely to get stained. So it made sense for me to do as much of it as possible today, before the dusty-booted crew shows up.
Little resolutions like “I’m not doing it myself” keep falling prey to the house’s demands. I was planning to take Christmas off entirely but then in the afternoon I found myself browsing online for appliance sales. How much lower can I sink? Well, late that night when ordinary people are doing online chat or hunting for nude celebrity pictures, I was shopping for toilets online. On Christmas. That is not how the classic holiday tales usually end up.
At least my little effort helped show what the house will look like when it is done. With the sealant on, the colors have “popped” and there’s a satin sheen. It’s full of rusty orange-red and blue-greens. Now that we have seen the final product in day and night lighting, we are able to finalize our paint colors.
Again, the colors in the picture are not quite accurate. At some point I’ll have to take a carefully calibrated photo to show the true colors of everything, but right now all the paint chips are just ideas and not final choices.
One valuable lesson of our last house experience was that we should avoid “analysis paralysis.” We spent weeks agonizing over cabinetry and countertops, months testing paint colors in big swatches on the walls, and it was literally years before we finalized the layout of parts of the interior. Every decision was questioned and re-examined a dozen times, mostly because we had no idea what we were doing.
On this house, we’ll have the colors picked in a week, the appliances ordered by Friday, the cabinets ordered by Saturday, and the other details (countertops, faucets, knobs, a couple of light fixtures) hopefully wrapped up by Sunday. We might get something wrong but we’re not going to worry about it. We’ve got other things that are more worth worrying about than whether we picked the perfect countertop. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can go explore something new.
December 25, 2007 at 11:48 pm · Filed under Home base, Travel / lifestyle musings
We tried living in our house for a day, and it was nice. We lived like ordinary people — if you overlook the near-total lack of furniture. We had a nice Christmas morning doing the sort of things that people usually do when they are celebrating Christmas. Since the house lacks a kitchen, we were forced back out to the Airstream for breakfast, but for the most part we stayed inside and sampled the suburban life: a few holiday phone calls to friends and family, reading books, snacking on Christmas treats, trying out the presents, and assembling those things that have “some assembly required”.
It felt nice, as a change of lifestyle, although I’m sure I don’t want to live like this all the time. Coincidentally, today I finished a book called “American Nomads” by Richard Grant, which attempts to describe and analyze the phenomenon of modern nomadism. The author alternately tells tales of nomads both historical and current, and his own restless story in which he is uncontrollably driven to wander the American southwest seeking the company of freight train riders, hitchhikers, hippies, “Mountain Man” re-enactors, and RV’ers. Although the book is a bit uneven, there are many gems of truth and I found myself wincing several times at the accuracy of Grant’s understanding of my personality.
It is undeniably the best analysis I have read on the subject of modern nomads. Most articles and books treat those who are compelled to explore as misfit exceptions, social oddities, and sideshows to mainstream American life. Only someone who has the bug himself can begin to understand the inner pressure that motivates us, and the author does a nice job of bridging nomadism and sedentary life so that each side can understand the other.
This is helpful to me. I have to admit that many times in this blog I have been a nomad snob. Forgive me — I’ve been so enthusiastic about this lifestyle that I’ve become like a reformed addict, trashing “sedentary” life at every opportunity. Without saying so directly, Grant seems to believe that it is in the genes and makes good points about the validity of each lifestyle, although I wish he hadn’t focused quite so much on the grittiest of travelers. Essentially he says, “to each their own.” I think he’s right. There’s nothing wrong with all you people who love your houses. It’s just that I am part of a minority of people who feel very differently. If it is wired into your genetic code and mine, that’s cool with me.
Apparently Grant lives here in Tucson, at least occasionally between trips. I’m sure we would get along if we met, although we’re nothing alike. He’s a hard-living Brit who thrives on rugged travel (sleeping in the car for weeks, walking the desert for days, riding freight trains with hobos), he smokes, he admits to a fair amount of drug use in the book, he seems at several points to be self-destructive and perhaps even toxic to others except in small doses. I’m far past any interest in living ruggedly except where it is necessary to accomplish a specific goal. I like traveling by Airstream with the occasional tent or hotel thrown in for fun; there’s no need in my lifestyle to sleep in a cold rolling boxcar with vagrants, not even “to get the story”, as Hunter Thompson would say.
Which brings me back to the house. We could have bought a condo (and seriously considered it) instead of a house. It would have been easier to maintain and there wouldn’t be this renovation task to complete. But at the time we bought, in the place we bought, there was better value in houses than condos. So now we have approximately 9 times the amount of space that we have in the Airstream, which means when we are stationary we can spread out. That extra space means comfort for all involved. It’s one thing to share 200 square feet when the world is your living room; it’s quite another to share 200 square feet when the days are short, the nights are cold, and there are fewer options of things to do outside.
Wendy enjoys a balmy evening outside our Airstream, near Destin, FL, Jan 6, 2006
That has been the one issue I’ve had with full-timing. The winters can be a bit boring. Really the only place in the continental USA where you can be guaranteed warm weather all winter is southern Florida and the Keys. In the rest of the south, and particularly the southwest, winter is characterized by changeable weather, warm days and temperatures plummeting to near-freezing at sunset. This makes for long evenings inside the trailer. Last winter we avoided much of the cold by staying in Florida in November and December, but this year we took an entirely different route.
Even a trailer as well-insulated as an Airstream is hard to keep warm on a 20 or 30-degree night. The trailer begins to feel like an old New England farmhouse with cold floors and drafts. People start to congregate around the furnace ducts, and the fuel bill shoots up. If it still feels like you’re in New England every night, and the nights are still 14 hours long, the enjoyment of being in the “sunny, warm southwest” is lessened. If I wanted to sit inside a confined space and surf the web, I could have stayed home.
So that’s what we’ll do. Parking here for a couple of months every winter seems like a good thing to me. We’ll get the pleasure of the southwest with the sheer comfort of a house. There’s better insulation, more room to stretch out on long evenings, better entertaining space … and while we are whittling away at winter we will be refurbishing and planning for the next bout of travel.
Do I sound like a suburbanite all of a sudden? I’m just trying to find that ideal balance to perfect our lifestyle. If we can’t be somewhere interesting in the Airstream, this house will be a good place to stay for a while. It certainly passed the test for Christmas Day. I wonder how long it will be before the genetic code starts demanding that I find out what’s around the corner, and we hitch up the Airstream to move out again.
December 24, 2007 at 9:27 pm · Filed under Home base
We did it, sort of. We are in the house for Christmas Eve. OK, there’s only one working bathroom and it lacks a sink. There’s no furniture other than a dining room table. We’ll be sleeping on the rug in the living room tonight. But among the piles of boxes, there’s a cozy fire in the fireplace, a tiny tree with a dozen presents under it, and a smorgasbord on the dining room table. Our neighbors brought over the flowers you see by the fireplace. Our stockings are hung by the chimney with care It’s on the way to becoming home.
After Christmas we’ll have to clear out and go back to the Airstream, but it is nice to “try out” the house for a night. Merry Christmas!
December 23, 2007 at 9:13 pm · Filed under Home base
Every year around Halloween I reiterate my pledge: “I will not be caught dead or alive near a shopping mall until after the New Year.” Most years I succeed at keeping the pledge, but this year … not so much. Today I found myself circling the absolutely-packed-crammed-overflowing-demolition-derby parking lot at the Park Place Mall in Tucson, two days before Christmas. How did this happen?
The funny thing is that while I was driving around in the lot, I kept finding myself examining the upcoming turns and exits as if I had the Airstream behind me. I had to remind myself that we were unhitched and that I could make the 90-degree turns without a problem.
When we first came back to Tucson we all agreed that we were here for one purpose: to turn our project house into a home so that we could come back to it later and settle in just by unlocking the door. A lofty goal, considering the state of things inside the house and the fact that we no longer own furniture.
Yesterday we gained new appreciation for the size of the hole we’ve dug into. In order to get out of town on schedule, we need to have everything done by March 1 or so. That means all the cabinetry needs to be installed in February. With a 5-6 week delay from time of order to delivery, that means we have to place our kitchen and bathroom cabinet order by this weekend. That doesn’t leave much time for careful consideration of the new kitchen plan, or anything else.
So we’re diving in as quickly as possible. While others are madly shopping for stocking stuffers and Christmas turkeys, we’re pricing out appliances and choosing cabinet fronts. This year Santa will come down our chimney hauling a heavy-duty vinyl contractor bag full of slate sealant, work gloves, a Shop Vac, and perhaps a few faucets. We’ve asked him for a dishwasher, a gas stove, refrigerator, and a washer-dryer combination, but more likely those things won’t fit in the sleigh and we’ll get them at the post-Christmas sales instead.
Given the circumstances, I think it’s OK that I failed in my anti-mall pledge this year. Our pre-holiday rush was almost exclusively the result of needing to get things done for the house as soon as possible. That forced us into crowded stores at the worst possible time of year. For example, today I tested the matte slate sealant to see if we like it (otherwise we’ll try the high gloss sealant). We need to make that decision and buy a large quantity of the sealant soon in order to be ready for the painting crew who are arriving next week. So I was at the big box hardware store looking for supplies while a thousand other people were in there fighting over the last Duraflame logs. And there are a dozen other household project things to do this week.
Meanwhile, the Airstream has been our rock. It sit stolidly in the carport, peeking out at the curious neighbors, giving us sanctuary when the house or the outside world becomes too overwhelming. We like to go in the house and work on it, but the Airstream is still home.
Even when we are moved into the house later, I can see how it will serve as a psychological getaway in the driveway. It’s always private and serene in there, like a kid’s clubhouse. Since we’ve got a full hookup in the carport, it lacks for nothing. We plan to leave it plugged in and “live” year round, with the fridge stocked with snacks and drinks, and the beds ready for a midday nap. I’m looking forward to that.
December 22, 2007 at 12:59 pm · Filed under Home base
Coming back to home base was emotionally overwhelming. First there was the long gorgeous drive home along I-8. It was like many other drives we’ve taken in the southwest: long stretches through the desert scenery, sharp reddish mountains framed against clear blue skies, the occasional dust storm blowing by … but when we saw the first saguaro cactus standing beside the highway, it was seeing a gatehouse guard in uniform standing by to welcome us home. The saguaro, which grows only in the Sonoran desert and only in a narrow band of altitude, is sort of a symbol of southern Arizona. When we see them, we know we are close to home base.
Opening the door to the house was another sort of emotional upheaval. Inside we found the mess we left behind in May, plus a few dead beetles in the corners, and the living room full of boxes left by the mover. The boxes seemed to have multiplied since we loaded them on the truck last summer, and the house looked dingy and depressing. Problems were everywhere: bad lighting, grout stains, messed-up paint, things to be demolished and many things needed to be fixed. I didn’t remember how much work we had left undone. It was too much to contemplate last night, so we closed the door and went back to our nice safe low-maintenance Airstream.
The Plague Doctor says, “Don’t lose hope!”
But things are already moving in the right direction. I had made some calls from Borrego Springs last week to alert certain people that we were coming back. Early this morning I started making lists of tasks and supplies needed, and we began to map out the next couple of weeks of work. By 10 a.m. today I had already met with two contractors who had previously given us quotes, and now we have a schedule for at least the first phase of things to be done.
Getting contractors to show up is usually a challenge. In Massachusetts and Vermont, two other places we have owned houses, we struggled for weeks to get people to show up and complete jobs, but here in Arizona we have had much better luck. One trick is to “jump the line”, meaning that once we find a good contractor (excellent customer relations, quality-focused, prompt, businesslike), we ask him for references to other people for things we need. Usually the really good contractors only work with others who share their standards, so this saves a lot of calling around and interviewing. We don’t always pay the lowest price using this method, but it pays back in reliability and promptness.
On Wednesday afternoon, the day after Christmas, preliminary work will begin. First task is to rip out the remaining kitchen cabinets and replace the damaged drywall in that room. Then the carpenter will install all new baseboard in the house (the original was removed during tiling last spring), and fix a few other small things. By Jan 2, we’ll have a crew of painters in here to seal the slate floors, remove and replace the “popcorn” ceilings, and paint the entire interior.
Our task during the first couple of weeks is to pick paint colors, start planning the kitchen and bathroom cabinetry, and write checks. Lots of checks. We have paid out more money in deposits this morning than it usually costs us to spend a month traveling. I don’t need any further reminders that houses aren’t cheap, but I think I’ve got a few more coming anyway.
Coming out of Anza-Borrego yesterday, we passed through the town of Westmoreland and spotted this hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant. I can’t resist Mexican from a place that only has signs in Spanish, so we parked the Airstream in back and went in. The interior was dirty, the ambience was zilch, the seats were cracked and hard, but the waitress was nice and the carne asada, whether on a taco or burrito, was amazingly good. One of the best Mexican lunches we’ve ever had, for three people, $11.
December 21, 2007 at 11:59 am · Filed under Home base
We got back to home base and the full weight of what we have to do has crashed down on us. The house is a mess. The new floors need cleaning and sealing, the living room is packed with boxes from our move, there’s a toilet in the hallway and kitchen appliances in the bedrooms, weeds four feet tall in the back yard, and we barely know where to begin…
Plus, the new website is turning out to be technically much more complex to implement than I had expected. We are going to postpone the new website launch until after Jan 1. I need all week to work out the bugs and get various things figured.
So tonight we parked the Airstream in the carport and settled in to think about it all. Somehow we need to make at least one room of the house habitable for Christmas, among a thousand other things that need doing. This is going to be a very challenging week, and a prelude to a challenging month.
« Previous entries
