Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Just Like on HGTV

I've been seeing things. Tonight, with a crystal-clear sky, I saw more stars than ever, not just the constellations, but all the little stars in between and behind. And there, sliding slowly in front of them, trailing southwest to northeast, was the international space station. It was a point of light dim enough that you had to set your eye slightly to the side to perceive it; when you focused directly on it, it disappeared. I looked it up on the internet just to make sure it wasn't a very high-flying UFO.

And last night I saw Steve. I was sitting on the couch and nodded off for a moment. My head slouched to the left, and there he was sitting next to me, just where he used to. I'd say it was just a dream, but it had the quality of a vision: he was slightly luminous and brightly colored (I rarely dream in color). He was smiling warmly at me.

Cracked Stack.
It startled me and I opened my eyes. It was the same effect as Bilbo Baggins disappearing at his birthday party, like my eyelids had been transparent and the only thing that vanished when I opened my eyes was Steve. Far from unsettling me, I felt a substantial warmth from within: Things are okay, I thought. Things are going well. I feel that way now, even after the plumber showed up and found a two-foot crack running down the original cast-iron drain pipe.

He spent a good hour checking all the pipes with his spy scope camera, and didn't cut into the downstairs bathroom wall until he knew where the problem was. I was pretty sure it would be exactly what he found and exactly where he found it, as Dave Vicars and I spent some time tracking down the leak when he and Kittie were here.

Right now it looks like it's going to be around $1500 to $1800 to replace the pipes and repair the wall, and they will probably be here for a couple days next week. I feel really blessed that I have a 3/4 bath in the basement, so I can avoid imposing on the neighbors for shower time and I won't have to poop in plastic bags until they're done.

The upside to this is that the last of the original cast-iron pipe will have been replaced by PVC once this fix is done. (Well, there will be a small section left beneath the second-floor bathroom, but that can be easily replaced when they break up the floor for the remodel, which keeps getting pushed back by other things.)

One of those other things is the hardwood floors downstairs. And I finally got ahold of the floor refinisher recommended to me. Well, I got ahold of his wife, which is almost as good. I figure if I want the floors done by Thanksgiving, I'd better move on it now.

Last night I was thinking about putting up Christmas decorations, where things would go, how to rearrange the occasional chairs I haven't gotten yet, what tchotchkes to store and replace with Christmas tchotchkes, etc. This may sound compulsive, but I haven't put up Christmas for the last three years ('12 Steve and I were in Eureka, '13 Steve had just died, and '14 I was getting the house ready to put on the market). It's about time.

I need as much celebration as I can get. Too often, I feel like I'm working on an uphill battle trying to start this new phase of my life. I mentioned reaching on the wrong side to get the toilet paper, how part of my is still wired for Pasadena. It's that way for a lot of things. I think it will take an autumn and a winter here before I really feel like I belong.

Ugly downstairs sink.
Perhaps I should harass the local theater companies again, see if I can get someone to actually return my e-mails. Then again, there's so much I can do with the LGBTQ Center which will directly use my talents in graphic communications. The Halloween Gala is coming up, so I'm working on something for that.

Bill, the wall repair guy, was working on a job just down the street, so he walked over around 1 p.m. and took a look at the situation. He said repairing the hole would be about $300, since Bob (the plumber) was going to open a small part of the ceiling to get to the old elbow joint and replace it. Looking at the condition of the wall, I asked how much to replace the entire thing, and he said about $500. So I'm going to buy a little corner sink to replace the ugly vanity/sink that's there now. So it looks like both bathrooms are getting a remodel, quite inadvertently.

After Bill left, I kicked around the idea of going out to lunch, but ended up having a sandwich here, since there's some turkey that needed to be consumed in the next day or so. And with these expenses piling up, it's the frugal thing to do. But there's still money in the contingency, even after these expenses, so I'm doing OK.

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

The Vicars Come East

The end of summer is here. I can feel it in my bones. We had a half-week where it was hot as hell and as humid as Courtney Love's…well, it was unpleasant. I basically stayed cocooned in the air conditioning of the house, which pumped on to keep the interior at a comfortable level of heat and humidity.

Amanda, Natalie, Steve
on the Ettrick front porch.
Typical summer weather here seems to be in the mid-80s with evening temperatures making it only into the mid-70s. With the wind and the almost-weekly thunderstorms, it's quite pleasant, as summer weather goes. And every once in a while it will dip down into the upper 60s, with the evenings in the 50s.

Dave on the same porch.
This last week, it's been in the 70s, the humidity low. When it heats up, we have a day or two in the 80s. I see leaves (especially the ones on the two little deciduous trees in my yard) starting to hint at a colorful death.

Back in August, the week that David and Kittie visited, it was pleasant weather, and I don't think we had any thunderstorms until the day after they left. They arrived a couple days after my last blog entry, so I'll start from there and try to catch up.

Acrobatics on the front lawn in Ettrick.
Jackson (executive director at the LBTQ center) asked me if I could design some posters for Pride Weekend, and I said sure. (They have Pride here in September, rather than June, partly because a good percentage of the gay community is made up of college students, who go home in June and return in September.) So this year it was the weekend of September 12.

Vintage tractors ready for the antique tractor pull.
I told him I'd be glad to, then put it on the back burner while I was getting ready for David and Kittie's visit (August 20th through the 25th). I wasn't too worried about the place being spotless, since the unfinished wood floors make the it look sloppy, no matter how clean it is.

So, the day after the last blog entry, I headed out. It was time. I needed to stop putting it off and go out and buy a bed for myself. It took me very little time to pick the mattress once I found a place. I'm big on buying local, but it has its drawbacks.

Steve, Kittie and Pam on the levee in Winona preshow.
The first place I went to, there was a lone customer with a child waiting on someone in the office (I saw a person step into the back as I entered). While the customer sat quietly, I checked out all the beds. I took a good 15 minutes trying out the beds, and no one ever appeared from the back, so I simply walked out.

The second place, a little farther north, was very nice with attentive help, and I got a fairly good deal on a very comfortable bed. It was delivered the next day. While trying to back out of the driveway, the delivery truck snagged some lines from the house to the garage (The home inspector said they were probably not to code). The lines were still connected and working, so I added it to the list of stuff that needs taking care of (this list would be expanded dramatically once David had a chance to check out the house).

Flutes and singing bowls at the Saturday evening concert.
Kittie and David arrived in La Crosse Thursday evening. It was late enough that no one showed up at the airport to greet them other than myself (not only am I their host, but I also don't live 30 miles from the airport). We got home, kicked back, and went to bed.

Friday was a day to visit and plan out what things they wanted to do while here. It was also a chance for David to check out the house. I won't say he went over it with a fine-toothed comb, but I can say I'm sure he pointed out just about everything that needed tending. Of course, the upside is that he'll do any kind of fix-it stuff he finds, unless it's electrical or plumbing (that's my rule; not just for him, but pertaining to repairs in general).

Fabergé egg collection at House on the Rock.
On Saturday, he and I went out to Menard's with a list of stuff, and, for the most part, they had what we needed. David was also able to find the source of the water settling on the drain pipes (which the professional plumber could not). It's the upstairs shower, so for the rest of the visit (and since, I have to say), all showering was down in the basement.

In the late afternoon, we headed out to Winona, where we had dinner with Steve and Pam and Amanda. Afterwards, we went to a pan flute/singing bowls concert at the local yoga studio (an adjunct to the wellness center where Amanda is a CMT).

A street of shops, each holding a collection, at HotR.
It was a very interesting concert, and I found myself sitting with my eyes closed, letting the music take me wherever it might go. It was complete improv between the two musicians, and the overall effect was intense and extreme relaxation.

After about 15 or 20 minutes, I opened my eyes and noticed the people sitting on yoga mats on the floor (including Pam) were laying flat on their backs, looking just this side of snoring. I had to smile to myself: how many musicians have the goal of putting their audience in a trance state?

Natalie has a photo op.
After the concert, the musicians started talking about themselves, something that I don't indulge for more than 10 or 15 minutes: I have a very short fuse for artists' thoughts on themselves and their work once it flows into grandiloquence.

Sunday there was a minor Solberg (Pam's family) get-together at Pam and Steve's out in Ettrick. We were supposed to be there at noon, but Dave got involved in restringing the remote wire for the garage door opener (at which he was successful). We didn't get out there until about 1 p.m., and most everyone had eaten by then, so the half-dozen cold salad and veggie dishes Kittie and I had purchased at Festival (the supermarket) did not get the attention they deserved, and most of it came back home with us.

Two-story clockwork in mechanicals room at HotR.
There was plenty of food for us, so we didn't starve. It was nice to meet more of Pam's family and reconnect with the few siblings I had already met. The kids gave a performance of tumbling, giving each adult a dried leaf to use as a "ticket" to the performance. Later in the afternoon, the Lion's Club held an antique tractor pull across the road from Steve and Pam's place. David, of course, disappeared in his fascination of the mechanical.

One of numerous automaton calliopes.
After a while, Kittie and I walked over to see if we could locate Dave. We also wanted to check out the tractor pull, but nothing significant was happening, so we went back across the road and rejoined what was left of the Solbergs (some had left, some were at the pull). Dave finally came back from checking out the tractors ("They aren't antiques; the oldest one's from the 1930s!"), and we returned to La Crosse, as we had to get up early the next morning to go to the House on the Rock.

Now this is an antique tractor!
The House on the Rock is a bizarre collection of collections. It is truly impossible to describe the entire thing; it must be experienced. Steve showed up around 8 a.m. and drove us to HotR. Amanda and Natalie met us there, and we spent several hours just walking through the displays and exhibits. Some of the collections are of things I didn't even know existed.

I think the most impressive, at least for me, were the huge installations (some the size of a chifforobe, others taking up entire rooms and several stories tall) that were automaton music boxes. There was one of a symphonic orchestra with full-sized, articulated mechanical musicians.



Many of the collections are overwhelming to the point of numbness. And throughout the entire edifice is an undercurrent of conservative Midwest ethics (such as the four horsemen of the Apocalypse hanging over the exit door) nestled in among two-story high walls crowded with carousel horses, hundreds of them.

The final item is a huge carousel, so ornate it's almost repulsive. The interesting thing: with that huge collection of carousel horses, there is not one carved horse on the carousel.


We headed back to my place, picking up stuff for dinner on the way (Papa Murphy's take 'n' bake pizza, if I am not mistaken). And David packed up their box (they shop their stuff ahead with UPS rather than pay the baggage fees on the airlines) and headed to bed early. Kittie and I had decided that we were simply going to stay up until we had to leave, which was about 4:45 in the morning, as their plane departed at 6:20.

Four Horsemen in a roomful of carousel horses.
On my way back from dropping them off, I was reflecting on the expanded to-do list of household fixes that Dave had left with me. I had to laugh out loud: I realized some people would take offense if someone came into their new house and found every single thing that was wrong with it. That might be construed as criticizing your selection of houses or an eagerness to find fault with your choices in general. But rather than finding offense, I've always taken it as Dave's contribution to making my life as perfect as possible, and the fact that he loves to find things to fix.

To be honest, the last couple weeks have been a kind of limbo for me. I spend time talking to contractors about the projects I want to do around the house, but I am very reluctant to actually sign a contract with anyone. In the past few days, I've come to realize that I just don't want to spend any money, even though there's a tidy contingency that I've reserved specifically for these kinds of things.

New lighting and fan in the kitchen.
Last Saturday was Pride in the Park, which I opted out of, since Jim and Emily came over and we installed the new ceiling fan in the kitchen, as well as new lighting over the sink. We also swapped out the overhead light upstairs in the hall, as the previous one had five 60-watt bulbs, which was overkill for such a compact space.

The place is feeling more like home every day, but I think it would feel even more so if I overcame my financial hesitation and spent some money on sprucing it up: refinish the floors, fix the plumbing, bite the bullet and sign a contract for the bath remodel. Oh, where to start.

Which is a stupid thing to say, as I started back in May when I bought the place.