Twister in a Closet: The Tiling Continues

There’s nothing like the prospect of guests to force you to get your house (cabin) in order. Having completed the kitchen tile and a good chunk of the trim, the front tile was nagging at me: If I could get it laid prior to their arrival in late May, we could grout it the day before they arrived and have the place looking less constructiony and more cabiny. It’s futile to be ‘house proud’ while you’re still building, but there you have it. Adding to the ‘work in progress’ ambiance were the mounds of dirt thrown up by the winter plowing that needed to be raked down and re-seeded.

 

And so it was that I found myself back in Shangri-la solo on a sunny and temperate mid-May Friday for what I thought would be just a few hours of work. You know how that goes.

 

Pulling in, I was pleased to find that Ivor Stevens – who does our mowing and plowing – had already taken care of the dirt mounts and mowed for the first time. Next winter we’ll minimize the damage by marking the driveway better and limiting how much plowed. We only need space enough for one car, after all – winter guests are unlikely until we either expand the place or build a heated guest cottage.

 

The tile work, however, was rough. Unlike the kitchen – which was basically a rectangle, required minimal tile cutting (due to careful selection of accents) and had an entry at both ends – the entry space was such that the first tile had to be laid furthest from the walls and closet. This means that I basically had to work from the most accessible location to the least, struggling not to:

• Move freshly laid tile while standing on them
• Drop mastic on the same while prepping new sections
• Contort myself into impossible positions to complete the work in the entry alcove and closet 

Imagine playing twister in a small closet. Sux. And my leg muscles were sore for the next two days as a reminder. And to make matters worse, I realized when nearly done that I had used the wrong trowel for both the entry and the kitchen – laying enough mastic for 6” and smaller tiles rather than 6” – 12”. Big or small oops? We’ll see, I suppose.

 

In the end, what I thought would be a 3 hour job took almost 6 (“twice as long and 3 times as much”), and I was on the road before 6. Should have stayed overnight and enjoyed a beer and burger at the Saxtons River Inn.

 

A couple of other quick notes:

• I remembered to turn on the water properly this time – first the well pump, and then the water heater after the tank was full. I left the water on figuring the freezing was over; I was proved wrong 3 days later, but I suspect 2 nights of 30-degrees between two days in the low 60s won’t prove a problem.
• The knob on my hose bib turns, but no water comes out – what gives? It’s not like this is a complex piece of machinery. I’ll have to fix it for our guests, as they’ll be using a hose connection for the pop-up we’re renting.
• In the end I was able to return 4 boxes of tile and recover about $100. I left 1 box of each type in the crawlspace, just in case any of them are damaged in the future.

 Next up: Hardwood floors, guests, food, beer and campfires!

The Cost of Being Hip(ped)

It was just after noon on Saturday when I reached my low point. While my father and Mr Big created knee walls for the back loft, I stood in the [future] living room and considered a declaration of defeat. I just couldn't see us calculating, cutting and installing all of the angles a hipped roof requires in anything like the time left, and building the porch roof alone on a subsequent weekend was an overwhelming prospect.


The work had begun just after noon on Friday, when my father and I arrived to find the materials that LaValley's had delivered that morning, and the first order of business was to create a 2x6 'box' between the deck joists over the beam to ensure that the porch posts' load transferred directly to the ground rather than relying on the strength of the decking and joists alone. That having been done, we turned to the decking.

I considered composite material, but - at over 3 times the cost of pressure-treated ($400 vs. $125 for a 6.5'x14' deck) - it was out of my budget. I think of decking as being 'quick work', but the process of ensuring uniform spacing both 1) of all boards and 2) over the length of each individual board required that one of us gauge the spacing and insert the screws while the other pushed or pulled on the end to compensate for each board's bow. We had just finished when Mr Big pulled in just in time for beer and steaks. Uncanny timing.

"If we were taller we'd be able to touch the top of this post."

 The next morning was spent erecting the porch posts and building the 'box' they supported: A ledger board (lag-bolted to the cabin just above the front window trim) and 3 sides of doubled 2x6s to support the rafters. By lunch, we were ready to frame the roof, just as soon as I figured out the angles needed. And here we ground to a halt. Or rather, I did. They quickly bored of watching me scratch my head and began building the knee walls for the loft.

In retrospect, here's where I went wrong: For some reason, I constructed a Byzantine process for holding the boards in place and marking the cuts by eye rather than simply doing the math and laying the rafters out with a carpenter's square. I let myself be intimidated by the fact that -- unlike the cabin roof -- I was dealing with a hipped roof that would require multiple compound angles. After futzing around for a couple of hours and finally losing all hope (maybe I should just build a pergola?), I pulled out the carpenter's square and did it the right way.

Its a miracle!

And wouldn't you know it worked perfectly better than expected. By 5 PM the porch roof framing was up -- all 15 rafters in all of their compoundy-angle glory. We had only 3 problems:

1. The Paslode would periodically decide to go on a 15-20 minute holiday, its indicator light mocking us in green or red and refusing to respond to any of the manual's remedies until it was good and ready.
2. I swear to God every other sentence uttered that afternoon was "Where's the pencil?" Why did we have only one pencil? Why didn't one of us keep it in a pocket? In the future, I'm bringing at least 5 pencils to the job site; one will be tied to the mitre saw, and another is going to be Velcroed to my hat.
3. We forgot two ancient pieces of advice: 'Measure twice, cut once' and 'quit while you're ahead'. Rather than resting for the night on our framing laurels, we cut the first piece of sheathing into a shape that was breathtaking in how poorly it fit the roof. Breathtaking, I tell you.

On Sunday the team showed both determination and ingenuity in managing to sheath the entire porch roof despite being sure we had only enough material for about 80% of it. The tar paper, roofing shingles and -- as always -- the siding were left for another day.

"That's what all those games of Tetris were for..."

 While all of this was going on, Dan and Tom -- of Taylor Excavating -- were hard at work on the septic system. They began work on Friday morning, and were essentially done by Saturday night. The work will be inspected by Marquise and Morano early this week, and then Dan will finish covering, grading and seeding in about a week. He's also going to set the Sonotubes for the back deck, and -- depending upon the final costs -- possible topsoil and seed the east side of the cabin as well.

Our beautiful new septic tank in situ

 My father, Mr Big and I passed the evenings in the Saxtons River Inn while the LSW selflessly dealt with wrestling The Boy to bed. She felt that we might enjoy a 'guys weekend', and it certainly was appreciated. I owe everyone a debt of gratitude - this porch is one of my 'must haves' for the cabin, and without them it likely would have devolved into a simple deck with a pergola, an arrangement I would have grumbled about for years.

The first official beer on the porch.

The Quest for Water

The well was scheduled for 6/17 - 18, and so we checked into the Saxtons River Inn on 6/16 and were on-site by 7:30 AM the next day. Anticipation gave way to cautious optimism by 9 am, and by 10:30 I sent the LSW to the highway in search of a cell phone signal to find out what was up.

While she was away, I continued plugging away at the wiring, distracted by every vehicle I could hear (but not see) slowing to round the sharp curve at the bottom of our road. At 11:30 the LSW reported that the crew was about 1/2 mile away if we wanted to stop over and get a status.

So that was the racket we had been hearing in the distance all morning!

I worked all day, becoming more irritated with each passing hour, but - in fairness - a message had been left on our home answering machine the evening of 6/16 to let us know they would likely be a day late. We just didn't think to check it. At 5 PM we packed it in and drove the 1/2 mile to find that they were finished, packing up, and about to drop the well-drilling rig off at our place.
And so it was that drilling commenced on 6/18 at about 10 AM, while the LSW and I strung wire and The Boy sat in front of the back door watching the action around the well site. At 4 PM, they closed up shop, having hit ledge at 100', inserted the well casing to that point, and drilled another 20 feet looking for water. Ed stopped by in the middle of the day to check the crew's progress, and explained that the drilling starts using a water mixture that is heavy enough to prevent the hole from collapsing when they remove the drill. As water is continually flushed out of the hole, it is checked to determine if the drill has hit ledge. Once it has, the water keeps the hole open while steel well casing is inserted down to ledge level, and the drilling proceeds using air until water is struck. In our area, they are expecting water somewhere between 100 and 250'. The drilling is pretty slow while they are using water, but speeds up significantly after. This means they should know on Monday where we stand.

Best case: They hit water before 150'
Worst case: They don't hit water after 280' and we have to decide whether or not to spend $2,500 on 'hydrofracking'

At about $9 a foot for drilling, I've got my fingers crossed...

Rain, rain, go away!

LSW here.

Here's our new checklist before leaving for Shangri-La:
_Do we have the keys?
_Did we pack sweatshirts?
_Did we check the weather forecast?

This weekend we had the keys, but neglected the other two items. We arrived to find it A) pouring rain and B) freezing cold. In addition, our lumber hadn't been delivered.

Hmmm.This looked like quite a dilemma. And of course, there's always the question of what do you do with a four-year-old in a dark, cold cabin for eight hours? It was looking bleak. However, things turned around pretty quickly. The Boy was quite content to sit in the car and pretend he was driving while The Vermonster showed me how to hook up wires to sockets. Oh yes I did! I used wire cutters and a screw driver! I hooked up some electric shizz. No need for you, DeVry University.

Around lunchtime, I headed out to get some sandwiches and to find a place where I could get cell reception to make some calls. First, I called the lumber company and was told the wood was being delivered within the hour. Second, I called my parents who said they *might* come up to see the digs. I hoped to catch them before they left to say, "Don't come! It's raining cats and dogs!" But when my dad answered, he said they were at the Vermont rest stop.

Let me divert just a moment to say that the Vermont Welcome Center is an attraction onto itself. When you pull into the parking lot, there's an open barn/gazebo type place where the library raises money by selling home baked goods and used books. The main building is a huge, new barn-like structure with displays from area stores, tourist sites, etc. There are tons of brochures and of course, bathrooms. If you ever go to Vermont, be sure to take a break there.

So I got some sandwiches at the Putney Co-Op and got back to the cabin just before my parents arrived. Our first lunch guests! We showed them around the place ("This will be a closet, this will be a bathroom") and then I decided to head down to Brattleboro with them while the Vermonster worked on the electrical.

All that rain was a blessing in disguise. He got the bulk of the wiring done, which probably wouldn't have happened had it been sunny.

The Saxton's River Inn was booked for the night (there was a local music festival going on), so we stayed in a cabin at the Brattleboro North KOA campground. Had it been a nice evening, we could've sat outside and had a fire and roasted marshmallows. Instead, The Boy got to watch the first half hour of Toy Story and then we went in search of pizza. We ended up in Bellows Falls at the Athens Pizza & Family Restaurant. It's the kind of place where you give your order at the counter and then bring it to your table. We ordered a large pepperoni pizza and two glasses of Cabernet. The wine was chilled, so that tells you a little something about the place. We were hesitant to eat there because we live in Connecticut, the epicenter of fantastic pizza. We've never had good pizza outside of Connecticut, and the rest of New England suffers from Crappy Pizza Syndrome. I have to say, though, that this pizza was actually really good in a junk food sort of way. Even The Boy ate an entire piece. We went back to the rental cabin where all three of us immediately hit the hay and slept until 8.

This morning we went back to the cabin and The Vermonster finished up the wiring while I painted some more siding. We stopped at the Top of the Hill BBQ we always go to and had lunch and now we are back. For three whole days. On Thursday, the well drilling begins!

The Other 60 Percent

I read somewhere that when you have a lockable shell, you're only about 40 done. That seems slightly pessimistic when I quickly tick off the remaining items, but clearly realistic when I sit down to write out what still needs to be done in detail. Add in the amount of time it actually takes to cross any given item off the list, and you begin to wonder if you'll ever actually be finished.

But "the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step", and so each weekend I plod along, a bit overwhelmed but still enjoying the journey. Since the last post, there have been 3 trips to Shangri-La, two solo and one with LSW and The Boy in tow.

On the first trip I arrived with a punch list of items: Finish siding the south wall, build the bridge between the lofts, and put up the walls in the crawlspace. A solid day's work, I figured forgetting that a day is 24 hours at best, and only 8 hours realistically given the 6 hours of travel. In the end, the siding was all I accomplished, and even that I ran out of before the south wall was done.

No worries, though - we had planned an overnight the following weekend, and we had big plans to make bigger progress. We were up early and out on time for once, the wife actually stayed awake the whole trip and companionable banter sped the journey along. The Boy was in a good mood, the sun was shining and the mercury settled in the low 70s. Everything was absolutely perfect until we pulled up in front of the cabin and I turned off the car.

"Tell me you brought the keys," I said to the LSW.
"I thought you had them," she replied.
Son of a ...

Faced with a challenge from the universe to practice my zen actively, I calmly dropped the family at our beloved Saxtons River Inn, and spent the next 6 hours in a round-trip journey to retrieve the keys.

Here's the thing, though: Compelled to book a second night, we were pleased to be given the best room in the place "because we were regulars". Sitting that second night with a cold beer after a long day of work on our private front porch overlooking the main street, I had one of those moments where everything - and I mean everything - felt perfect and I knew life could not possibly be any better. So there was that, anyway.

And what did we get done? The deck framing is in place for the front porch, the rear gable is ready for the power hookup and both the general and oven circuits have been run. Less work than I thought we could accomplish, but what else is new?

This last weekend I was on the road by 5:30 am and hard at work by 8:45. I would have been there a little sooner, but I couldn't resist stopping at the Saxtons River Market for a bottled water and a hot donut. Those donuts will kill me one day, but what a way to go. The weather was deceptive: It was the kind of day where you felt slightly chilled while standing still, but were pouring rivers of sweat as soon as you lifted any tool. Really, really, really, humid. I didn't do too bad, though: The walls are up in the crawlspace and the bridge is finally built between the lofts. I rewarded myself with a hot roast beef and Cheddar from the Putney Co-op and listened to the dishy 'Mrs. Astor Regrets' on CD on the way home. The latter is a guilty pleasure, but then who doesn't like to hear about the self-destruction of the rich?

Unless of course, you're the rich in question. Then it just sucks.

In other news, Larry expects to get the meter socket on the house this week, and he'll be contacting me soon about running the power to the panel and hooking up the first couple of circuits. I understand that the revised septic plans are on their way to the State of VT as of last Friday, and even as I write I'm waiting for a callback from Green Mountain Well Drilling about moving my well date from the end of July to the end of June. All good stuff.

Checking In - January Edition

I'm writing from one of the common rooms at the Saxtons River Inn, enjoying a Switchback ale and trying not to let the gloomy, overcast day get me down. On the plus side, it's in the lower 40s; on the minus, there is mud and dirt everywhere. Blah. But you take the bad with the good, right? Bob (the inn's owner) was here to welcome us back, there's a game on in the pub, and The Boy is behaving, so all in all I can't complain.

The cabin? Still standing and dry on the inside, looking just a little forelorn beneath the grey skies. The only tracks on the property seem to be those of Michael Marquise - the site engineer who stopped by 2 days ago to make sure all of the monitoring tubes were in order for the septic reassessment. I traced his path around the cabin and noticed that the southern side of the roof is completely barren of snow, in contrast to the north side, which still has about 2' worth, trimmed in icicles.

I spoke with Michael (of Marquise and Morano, LLC) a few days earlier to confirm the reassessment work. He had taken the letter I had drafted giving permission to access the property, combined it with the monitoring tube plan he had provided to my excavator last spring, and forwarded both to the State of Vermont. As I understand it, Michael will monitor the tubes weekly throughout March, April and May to see how high the water table rises. Generally speaking, at least 2 of the 11 tubes need to show water no more than about 4' from the surface for the test to be successful. If all goes well, the engineering plans can be revised and turned around to me by mid-June. I'll be about $1,200 poorer, but the savings on the septic work could be as much as $6,000. If the test fails, Michael will stop monitoring immediately and only bill for the time spent. Some of the people around me have in-ground systems, so I've got a better than average shot.

At first I thought this would delay the work this year, but I suppose it doesn't. I've still got siding to finish, the front porch to build, and a few interior walls to put up. Most of the materials for those jobs is already in hand, so I can start when the weather is good enough. Beyond that, I won't know how much cash I'll have to work with this year until around April 15 anyway, so - with a little luck - the septic and well work can begin as soon as the odd jobs are done.

For now, however, there's nothing to do but check on the place once a month and dream of sunny, warmer weather...

Happy Holidays!

Despite my assertions that I was shutting down until spring, I’ve decided to come out of hibernation to wish both of you Happy Holidays! And while I'm here, I might as well comment upon our most recent trip to Shangri-La to make sure the cabin is still standing...

It is – capped with 2 feet of snow and apparently none the worse for the strain. I had hoped that the 12/12 roof pitch would be enough to shed snow, but the asphalt shingles apparently provide sufficient friction to keep it in place. We’ll see what things are like when we’ve got 5-6 feet in a month or two, but right now I’m feeling pretty good about the oversized roof rafters and the way we tied them to their joists with ½” carriage bolts in 5 locations on each side.

While I blazed an awkward circle in the virgin snow, the LSW and The Boy waited in the car. I popped into the basement to find it dry and uninhabited, and unlocked the front door. As I closed the door behind me, a funny thing happened: My enthusiasm returned. The mental exhaustion that hung over me in October and November lifted, and I actually got excited again about what we were doing. I looked at the stacks for siding and the half-finished bathroom wall, and found myself imagining it all finished, and us unloading the car for a quite winter weekend by the fire, snow gently falling outside the window. Lesson learned: Time away from the project is as important as time on the project.

And so my mind is turning again: Wiring, plumbing, insulation, drywall, flooring, septic, well, porches, etc, etc. What will I do myself, and what will I contract out? What kind of heat will we install? Should we put in a basic solar setup to sell power back to CVPS when we’re not using it? If we have to choose, should we put in the well first or the septic? (I’m leaning toward the well.) Should I build the kitchen cabinets myself?

A lot, of course, depends upon whether or not my esteemed employer decides to provide raises this year, and how much of a bonus pool they’ll provide in this (still) shaky economy. There are a few other potential sources of cabin funds, but the timing for them is uncertain, and I remain resolutely against taking out any loans. Consequently, the only thing we are committed to at this point is the additional septic tests, for which I have already contacted Marquise & Morano. The monitoring will begin in March and conclude in May, and hopefully result in revising plans from the current mound system ($$$$) to a conventional one ($$).

The trip up included an overnight stay at (as always) The Saxtons River Inn. Festooned with lights and decorations, it was a welcoming site on a very cold, dark evening, and the pub - filled with locals, conversation, conviviality and libations - proved a particularly agreeable environment for dinner. As always. The boy even managed to behave this time, and obligingly fell suddenly asleep at 8 PM, allowing the LSW and I to enjoy a stack of new books in peace and quite for a few hours before turning in. Perfect.

We’ll do it all again in January, February and March. Hopefully we’ll be ready to hit the ground running in April and finish this thing off.

The Slow Work

I have read that the framing is the fastest (and most gratifying) part of building a house - it's all rough cuts and rough nailing, and every day you see big progress as a wall goes up or a roof goes on. And it's true - each weekend this summer left a feeling of accomplishment in its wake, each new picture on my desktop at work drawing comments from passers-by, astonished that one of their desk-jockey compatriots could successfully assault a task so seemingly daunting.

Now? Not so much. The picture from 3 weeks ago showed siding on one side of the building up to the first window. 2 weeks ago the picture had siding up to the 2nd window. With any luck, this week's picture will show one side finished. My co-workers are starting to sneak past my desk without comment.

In fairness to me, I'm now working by myself, one day a week, in increasingly cold weather. By the time I get there and set up, it's almost 10, and I begin to pack up for home by 2. Not exactly a recipe for rapid progress. But the goal is to get all the trim up and get one wall sided, so I keep plugging away. (Thank god, by the way, that I chose white pine shiplap rather than shingles; at this rate I'd be 3 years dead of old age before the shingles would be finished.)

I expect that this weekend (or next) will be the last for the year, and then we'll settle for staying at the Saxton's River Inn once per month (they gave us the corporate rate - thanks!) to check on the place and have a nice meal. Maybe we'll spend some time getting better acquainted with the other 2.5 acres on the property, and I've promised The Boy we'd do some sledding - the cleared slope of land from the cabin to the utility right-of-way should be perfect for it. Might even rent a snow machine or two and explore some of the VAST trails. In any event, it will be nice to go up to relax for a few weekends for a change.

On the plus side, our little slice of heaven has been painfully picturesque as the fall has progressed, and the fresh donuts at the Saxton's River Market seem to get even better as the temperature drops. With the leaves gone, I've noted that - with a little clearing - we've got an potentially nice view of the ridge to the West to add to the current view from the East. We'll have the perfect view from either porch. Nice.

Framing the Floor

As the LSW reported, we made significant progress last week. We began work at noon on Saturday, and – despite rain and drizzle Sunday morning - managed to get 90% of the floor done by Sunday at 3. I drove back up by myself on Wednesday to finish the job.

My notes from this effort:

The wood was delivered wrapped in metal strapping. I figured there must be some way to remove it without a metal cutter (one of the few things I didn't bring), but I’ll be damned if I could figure it out. In the end we had to shimmy the first piece in each bundle out to loosen the tension and get the rest free. Next time, I’ll bring metal snips.

The top of the foundation looked more level than it actually was. The sills bolted down tight, but after the floor and face joists were in place, I was left with 1/8" to 1/4" gaps in the northeast and northwest corners. I began to shim them, but decided to wait until the walls and roof were up to see if the weight of the whole structure closed them.

I didn’t think to check how the metal bridging – which is sold flat – actually gets installed. My intention had been to install two rows, each about 5’ in from the face joists. I ended up bending the first row into a ‘z’ shape and nailing them to the inside faces of each joist. Something about this didn’t seem right to me, but I went from one end of the building to the other anyway. When I got home and looked it up, I saw that each end should be nailed to the top and bottom of adjacent joists, and felt like an idiot. After installing a row correctly on Wednesday, I considered ripping out first row, but decided to leave them in place so that the next owner can wonder what the hell I was thinking.

My new Paslode cordless pneumatic nailer performed flawlessly; it’s going to be worth its weight in gold.

On Wednesday, CVPS was on site swapping out the pole that is going to feed power to the house. I spent some time talking with the crew, and learned that the Advantek floor sheathing I was using is face-treated with water-proofing, so it should stand up to the elements until I have the roof on. I had hoped that they would hook up my temporary panel, but that, apparently, is a separate job. When I called CVPS on Monday, they expected to complete the job within a week.

After all of the sheathing was in place, I was in the crawlspace installing the bottom ends of the bridging and found myself looking repeatedly at the hatch. There is something about working in a space from which the is only one exit that is unnerving. Not that I expected a bear or the guys from ‘Deliverance’ to show up, but if they did…

The town was hosting a small tag sale and fair at the meetinghouse to raise money for it’s repair. The food was tasty and the folks were very nice. It was nice to see ‘Chris’ again, whom we had met previously at the bar of the Saxton’s River Inn. We also got to go into the meetinghouse for the first time to see first-hand that it needs a lot of work. It really does look like nothing has been done to it since 1817. We made a $50 donation, which I figured was the least we could do to preserve our view.

The LSW easily pulled her weight and made the job more enjoyable, and The Boy was well-behaved despite missing his nap and provided much-needed oversight from the sidelines.

Sadly, this was our last stay at the Saxton’s River Inn before the camping begins. Dinner again was excellent, and homemade donuts and pastries have been added to breakfast. I’ll miss the place – it feels like home at this point.

Next up: Raising the walls with my sister’s family.

Phase II: Introducing the floor, the neighbors and the Stress-o-Meter

(Pictured above, the crawl space where we'll lock up our booze when we're not there.)

LSW here, writing this blog entry on an old car insurance form found in my glove box. I'm sitting in the car, in the rain, in the parking lot of the inn in Vermont, drinking wine from a plastic cup and noshing on Sun Chips because, alas, once again the boy has fallen asleep in the car after a long day at the cabin site.

Today began Phase II of the Great Cabin Adventure. Some important details:

1. There are exactly 30 cell phone towers visible from the highway from Connecticut to Vermont. I know this because, despite my propensity to fall asleep in the car after 20 minutes, I was forced to follow the Vermonster because the generator wouldn't fit in my car, and the boy's carseat won't fit in the truck. In an effort to stay awake, I blasted Led Zepplin and we counted cell towers. Interestingly, as soon as you cross into Vermont, there aren't any visible towers. (Which would explain the lack of phone reception.)

2. I was the lucky recipient of the first job-site injury. A ginormous splinter the size of a sprinkle (or shot or jimmie, depending upon which part of the country you live in) lodged into my palm. Fortunately I packed the First Aid kit. The Vermonster received the second injury, although I wasn't there to experience it. Something about a hammer and a rusty bolt.

3. I learned first-hand how a house gets attached to a foundation. Something I've always been curious about, but not enough to ever ask.

4. We met one set of neighbors. They were very nice, but I was dismayed that the first thing the wife said was that the other neighbors, "are not nice people." I wanted to say, "For God's sake, I'm not getting involved in neighborhood politics before my damn house is even built!" But instead I said, "Well, we're building this place so we don't have to talk to anyone." The Vermonster was appalled, but really, let's just get this all straight right from the beginning. I'm trying to get AWAY from people, not make new frenemies.

5. I fear the Golden Egg has closed. Fortunately, the Inn at Saxton's River is now offering a better-quality breakfast. Not that it matters since from now on, we'll be roughing it at a campground.

6. I suppose I should make some sort of comment about the actual constructing we did. Well, here's the deal. The Vermonster is very, let's say, precise. (I know my father-in-law will agree with me on this one.) This is a good thing, especially when building something as large as a cabin. The devil is in the details, they say. So I can safely say that this will be the most secure, super-structured cabin in existence. I just hope that our marriage (and other family relationships) will survive this adventure. I know it took a great deal of inner strength for the Vermonster to trust me with a measuring tape and screw driver. I could feel him wanting to double-check my work but he held back for the most part. As the summer progresses, though, I don't know that things will be quite as polite. And so, I introduce the Stress-o-Meter:

This trip, the danger was low, although at the end, when it came time to put a tarp over the foundation, I thought I was going to lose it when the Vermonster started making hospital-corners on the damn thing instead of just tossing it over and tacking it with a few staples. Even the Boy commented that it looked like a big present.

The Impending Construction

Driving to the Home Depot yesterday, I thought I had a revelation: Build the floor, cover it in plastic, and put in the well, and bank the remainder for the septic system after the 'supplemental' test next April. My thinking: The well and septic are the 'big ticket' items; the cabin can be built as money allows. And a site with well, septic and foundation would maximize my resale should I have to sell before being able to build the cabin. On the way home, however, I realized the that what I was really looking to do was find a way to escape the occasionally overwhelming logistics and anxieties that come with building a house, even if it is only a 'cabin'.

Here's the thing: I'm down to about $13,000, and I still have structure, well and cabin to go. The well will likely cost about $5,000, the septic about $6,000, the cabin shell about $10,000, and finishing about $10,000. My usual annual bonus, though modest, would have been a big help, but the recession/depression has ensured that I'm unlikely to see it again until - what? - 2011?

Installing well and septic with the money might ensure the best resale, but we can't envision a scenario in which we'd sell, so who cares? And is it really feasible to build the cabin 'as money allows'? What good is a floor and two walls, or even 4 walls and a loft? And so we come back to the original plan: Build a simple, lockable shell this year, and bank anything left over for septic next year. At least with a shell we have a place to 'camp', even if we're carting in our own water and using a mulching toilet. We've got a place we can use, if only for weekends. And a place we can stay while we're working on the rest.

The LSW has already reported on the foundation sealing work last weekend. (And how she got lost and found herself with a speeding warning while I paced the streets of Saxton's River wondering where the Dickens she was. With no cell service around Shangri-La, I couldn't just call her and ask.) I'm currently waiting for the excavator to let me know that backfilling is complete and the path to the nearest CVPS pole is cleared so I can get temporary power installed. Our hope is to do an overnight on June 13th to both install the sills and attend the meetinghouse fundraiser that Saturday. My sister and her family are planning on camping with us on June 27 to begin the construction proper, so things are going to start moving quick.

To do:

1) Finalize the plans and place an order with the local lumberyard

2) Install the sills

3) Contact the electrician to get temporary power service installed

4) Contact CVPS to let them know the pole can be replaced and temporary power hooked up

5) Make reservations at the local campground for June 27th and July 4th

6) Dig out the camping equipment and see what we're missing (its been a long time since we camped!)

For those of you keeping score, the foundation sealant was a petroleum-based, fibered foundation/roofing tar that came in 5 gallon containers from my local Lowe's for about $35 each. We went to Shangri-La with 20 gallons, but only needed 10 for two coats. Each coat took about 4 hours, and it was a mess despite our best attempts to be careful. Here's a few more pics from the foundation sealing weekend:

PS: The change in management at the Saxton's River Inn has had generally positive results: I felt that the food was just as good, while the LSW thought that it had gone just slightly down-hill. The breakfast offerings - though still limited - were about 50% better, however, so overall we were satisfied that it would remain one of our favorite New England Inns.

Spring Fever

Lured by the Saxtons River Inn's 2-for-1 offer through March 31, we packed up the car and headed for Shangri-La this last weekend. Me, the LSW and The Boy were joined by The Niece (who has been crashing at our place over the last year while attending a local college) and the LSW's sister, who was looking for an excuse to spend a few days exploring a new place and sleeping late. My goal was to meet with 3 excavating and concrete contractors to get the ball rolling on The Dream.

But first things first: The food.

Dinner at the Saxtons River Inn is still outstanding - especially the crispy onion rings, fish and fries. The LSW and her sister were united on the virtues of the pulled pork and the burger, respectively, but The Niece apparently prefers soggy french fries to crispy ones, so she was less enthused.

Unfortunately, the Inn falls short in the breakfast category - providing only coffee, apple juice, store danish, apples and oranges. Luckily, The Golden Egg is only a block away and offers the second-best breakfast in New England (the first being King's in Newtown, CT). I recommend the Vermonter Skillet if you're going, or perhaps the blueberry crepes. The breakfast sandwich was also good, but the fact that they don't offer it with Vermont cheddar is almost unforgivable.

On Saturday evening, we descended upon the Putney Diner to sample their pies on the recommendation of Mr and Mrs Chops. In the spirit of adventure, I ordered a Reuben for the first time in my life. Good choice, that; I've got a new favorite sandwich. The cole slaw was fresh and the pickles agreeably sour, but the fries were soggy, to my dismay and The Niece's delight. The 4 of us split 3 slices of pie at the end of the meal - Apple, Chocolate Cream and Maple Walnut. The verdict: The apple wasn't as good as the LSW's, but the Maple Walnut and Chocolate Cream were worth the trip.

The LSW will be reporting on the handmade chocolates she tracked down in Walpole, NH here. Ye gods, they are good! And then there was 'Smokin' Bowls' on 123 between Bellows Falls and Chester:















Does this look good or what? We ordered the 'Brownie of the day'; tasty but - unfortunately - strictly legal.

Now, down to business:

As I noted, the reason for the trip was to get land clearing, excavating, and foundation estimates. To that end, I spent all of Friday afternoon and part of Saturday morning on site, taking time to walk the property and clearing some of the underbrush between appointments. The weather was in the mid-50's and the sun shining, and I spent most of the day in a T-shirt. Nice.

I started by locating the engineer's markers, which was a little challenging as a fallen pine took out the well marker. Once I found it, I was able to triangulate the planned position of the cabin and mark it with orange poles. The slope of the land seemed to lend itself to a walk-out basement, and before I knew it I was getting estimates on one at 28 x 32 in addition to my less ambitious 16 x 28 crawl space.

I talked with 6 contractors in total. Some things I learned:

• When the land it cleared the excavator will expect to take away any salvageable wood. If you choose to keep it, the cost of the work will go up.


• The cost of land-clearing will go down if the stumps can be buried on the property. Brush will be burned if weather conditions permit, or chipped if not.


• Excavation will include digging the holes for the footings, leveling and prepping the floor for the rat slab, laying the drainage pipe, and back-filling and grading when the work is done.


• The excavator can also be expected to rough-in the septic pipe and a 4" PVC conduit for the well. He/She should also run both pipes 10' beyond the foundation to make sure you're not trying to dig into the stone that will be laid down over the drainage pipes.


• Well-drilling rigs require a roughly level surface and wide access to the well site.


• The driveway should only be roughed-in until the foundation is done. After that, it should be at least sub-surfaced until all of the work on the site is finished.


• Excavation and Land-Clearing estimates can vary significantly. Mine ran from a low of $4,000 to a high of $9,000.


• Pouring the foundation will need to wait until at least mid-May, when the prohibition against heavy trucks on most unpaved roads during 'mud season' is lifted.


• It will take 3 days to pour the foundation, and about a week for it to cure. Once it is in, the building needs to go up before winter to protect it.


• Foundation estimates seem to vary less than excavating. For a 16 x 28 frost-wall foundation including a rat slab, I'm apparently looking at between $5,000 - 6,000.

(A 'rat slab, by the way, is 4" of concrete poured inside the foundation to keep out the critters and make working under the house more tolerable.)

The 'official' estimates are all expected before the end of this week, so I anticipate we'll be underway within a month. The first step will be land clearing, which is expected to take about 2-days, as most of the trees on the site are relatively small.

Here's a shot of the building site:


















The view behind the future cabin:















In this shot the two large boulders mark the future driveway:
















Incidentally, the major lesson learned on this trip was that a Hyundai Sonata is not the best vehicle with which to sample dirt-surfaced mountain passes during mud season. I see a Subaru in the LSW's future...

March Madness

The LSW was surfing the web the other day and discovered that the Saxton’s River Inn was having a ‘buy 1 get 1 free’ offer on bookings through the end of March. We hadn’t planned to go back up until late April, but this was too good to pass up. A quick call later we were booked into a 2nd floor suite with private porch for 2 nights for $160. Nice!



Now I dare not believe the snow will be gone by then, so spending the day walking the property is probably out. Instead, we’re going to drive 2 hours East to pay a visit to Shelter-Kit (see Options, Options).

Back in November, we had visions of a very small camp – a kit house less than 500 square feet that we could add on to later. As the months wore on, however, 500 square feet became 600, then 800, and then the kit house morphed into a small cape that I would build myself with help from foolish willing friends. My desire for a small getaway, well, got away from me as concerns about resale crowded my thoughts. All the while the LSW was becoming increasingly concerned that I was getting in over my head, setting us up for endless headaches and cost overruns.

And then a few days ago I suddenly – and unexpectedly – found that I agreed with her. I woke up on a Sunday morning and immediately thought “I’d rather have 250 square feet completed in a month than 1,000 square feet that we’ll be working on for 2-3 years and continually feel broke because of.”

So I’ve come full circle to my original plan: A Shelter-Kit Unit One with one enclosed and one open porch, built on piers by me and the LSW. I’ve been assured the basic structure will go up in about 7 days, and it’s modular, so we can expand it in $5 – 10k increments as the spirit moves.

Downside: It will be tight and we won’t be able to have guests until we expand. Also, at $16k it’s about 60% more expensive than stick-framing an equivalent-sized structure ourselves.

Upside: It will go quickly with minimal hassle, no power tools, no construction waste and minimal land clearing. It will also – and this is important – be a simple structure that will require minimal maintenance vis-à-vis “a real house”.

So we’re going up to the factory to take a first-hand look, and I’m sure a number of discussions will follow about how we could (or perhaps won’t) enjoy such a small space. Essentially, we’re talking a 9x5 bath, 9x6 kitchen, 12x12 common space (living AND sleeping), and a 9x12 covered porch. Small, but better than your average hotel room, so there’s that.

But I’ve changed my mind before, and both my annual bonus (or lack thereof in this economy) and the stock market will strongly impact the final decision. Still, it should be a fun weekend.

Scenes from a Closing

January 23, 2009

9:30 AM

Late breakfast in our home town, hoping it will tide us over until dinner as the closing is at 1:30 and The Boy's nap time is usually noon. Weigh him down with carbs, the thinking goes, and maybe he’ll sleep on the way up. The last thing we want is an over-tired toddler creating chaos in the midst of dignified legal proceedings. The place is new to us, but recommended. Unfortunately, we know we’re in trouble the minute we walk in: It’s got one of those long breakfast counters.

The LSW and I have a history of being ignored at these places for reasons I can’t even begin to fathom; we usually sit patiently, trying to make eye contact with the staff, but they work around us as if we’re invisible. They also tend to be wily, avoiding coming close enough to us to hear our pleas for service.

True to form, I practically have to chase the waitress to get her to give us menus, and then she seats herself next to a customer and proceeds to tuck into friendly conversation and a plate of her own breakfast. The other waitress must be new – she accidentally glances in my directly long enough for me to give her the ‘get over here now’ signal. The food is nothing special, and I expect we won’t be back.

12:30 PM

We jump off the highway early to take back roads to the attorney’s office. I’ve chosen a route we’ve not traveled before though the two ‘large’ towns closest to the property. On paper our property is 2 hours from home, but we’ve never been able to verify it because we always find a reason to take the long way there as soon as we cross the Vermont border. The LSW points this out, but I defend myself by arguing that I’m still exploring the neighborhood. The boy hasn’t slept a wink, but he’s in the pre-sleep mode of talking a mile a minute. Great. He should conk out just as we pull in.

The towns, by the way: ‘Large’ is generous by half, but we do find the diner friends have gushed about for their supposedly sublime pies.

1:30 PM

Of course the attorney’s office is in an antique home at the center of a Norman Rockwell painting. I feel like I’m going to visit grandma. And, lo and behold, the attorney is a grandma, and the office is very ‘homey’. Within minutes our realtor turns up with the seller and her lawyer. The property was in probate, and the seller is the estate’s executrix. She was also the late owner’s sister, so there is a sort of gravity to the closing that discourages casual conversation. Thankfully, the boy plants himself in a corner and becomes engrossed in figuring out how the randomly shaped pieces he has comes together to form a picture of Mickey an Minnie.

With visions of closings we’ve experienced in the past, I feel like my pen is just getting warmed up when suddenly it’s over. We’ve signed a total of 5 documents and watched checks get handed to everyone except us. (Next time I’m going to overpay so we get one, too.) I’m stunned to realize that this means the other 30 pieces of paper we inked at our last closing were all related to the mortgage, and it becomes clear: The economy has collapsed because of all of the filing that needed to take place after the tsunami of home buying! Bank employees are too busy filing to make new loans, and no one can find anything anymore – it all makes sense.

Less than a half hour after we entered, we step back into to sunshine as newly minted ‘vacation property’ owners. I’d finally feel like a yuppie if I owned a BMW, but fortunately I drive a pickup. It doesn’t feel real, somehow, and I keep looking at the copy of the deed and the septic site plan blueprints to convince myself it is.

Intermission: The astute reader would ask if perhaps it didn’t feel real because I didn’t really own the property. After all, didn’t I say a few posts back that I was borrowing the money from my generous father to avoid cashing money out of my 401(k) while the market is in free-fall? Well, I do, and I didn’t. My father came through with the check, but I couldn’t bring myself to cash it. Part of The Dream, after all, was to own the property outright, and, in the end, I believed enough in The Dream to take the hit. Besides, who knows? Maybe we’re in this economic funk for the long run, and it could be years before my per share price stops bouncing around at 60% of its prior value. If you defer The Dream long enough, after all, you’re dead.

2:30 PM

We pull into the parking lot of a 201-year-old 18-room Saxtons River Inn and check ourselves in. The place has a family air to it, but not so much that you feel like you’re in someone’s house. We love it, and the woman who welcomes us loves the boy, so she wins us over instantly. We have the place largely to ourselves, so I spend a little time exploring the open rooms while the LSW and the boy attempt a nap. My intention is to sit downstairs at the bar with a pint of something locally brewed and my blueprints, but somehow I end up in the car heading to the property.

3:00 PM

I’m walking the length of the property on the two sides bordered by roads, taking a fresh look at my new domain. I have fantasies of walking the property, but the 4 foot snow bank standing guard is unforgivingly uniform. Undaunted, I pick a spot at random spot venture in. Everything goes well with foot number one, but it all goes to hell when I lift the other foot to join it. 3 feet deep, turns out, and I’m up to my waist and clearly not going any further. I spend some time looking for a better spot, and the land stares back at me silently, wrapped everywhere in the same white sheet. It occurs to me that I finally have a practical application for snowshoes.

I end up standing in the road like an idiot, reveling in the sound of the light breeze through the stark treescape and imagining what we'll build, and do, come spring. If the market goes up. And maybe even if it doesn’t.

Then I get in the car, take a wrong turn, and am reminded afresh of how far you can go on a Vermont road without a cross street or even a place to turn around.

6:00 PM

We go back downstairs for an early dinner, planning on sitting in the emptier of the two dining rooms in hopes that we won’t bother anyone if the boy has a meltdown. The small bar has taken on the festive atmosphere of an English pub in the last hour however, with guests and townspeople sitting around chatting amicably and Counting Crows playing in the background. We take a table by the wood stove and order up a celebratory dinner: Clams for an appetizer, a burger plate for the LSW, fish and chips for me, and a grilled cheese for the boy. Everything – including the wine this time – is delicious. We toast the big occasion, and I bask in one of those rare ‘everything is right with the world’ glows until the boy decides he can’t sit still any longer and we head up to bed.

Postlude: The following day.

Before heading home, we swing by the Jamaica Cottage Shop to take a look at their 16x20 cabin that is on sale as a kit for $9,000. This is one of a number of kits I’ve been eyeing for a small cabin, but I’ve been anxious to see what 240 square feet with a loft really feels like. We stand inside for a few minutes, the feelings of victory from the prior day rapidly dissipating. The LSW and I are in immediate agreement that it is way too small, and this throws our current plans for a cabin in disarray. I spend the rest of the trip home reviewing our options, and slowly conclude that I’m going to have to build the place myself.