O Wert Thou in the Cauld Blast

This past August I read a novel by English author Rosamunde Pilcher called Winter Solstice. The main part of the action is set deep in December in a town on the far northwest coast of Scotland. She did such a fine job of describing the snow, the rain, the cold winter weather, that when I'd open the door to let the dog out I'd be surprised to feel the balmy breezes of a southwestern Pennsylvania summer.

And I was impressed how convincingly Mrs. Pilcher depicted her characters going out into this weather without moaning or complaining. They were continually out visiting, shopping, walking the dog, walking themselves, and the conditions seemed always to strike them as bracing, or envigorating, or, at the most, challenging.

Gosh, how admirable! Once winter has set in, whatever happens in my back yard stays there till next spring. In the dead of winter, once I'm inside I hardly want to open the door to pick up the mail!

But there's a basis for all this Pilcherian cheerfulness. As the creator of her novelistic world, she decreed that her characters should have a "well-built Victorian house" to live in and enough pounds and pence to keep the central heat going comfortably and to pay for logs to throw on the sitting room fire whenever wanted. It's easy to face inclement weather with good cheer when you know the house you'll return to is toasty and warm.

I wish I could rewrite my own current life story that way. But alas, no. I finally had enough and turned on the furnace night before last, and the highest it's going this winter is 61 degrees when I'm home and awake and 56 at night.

No, I'm not trying to reduce my carbon footprint. I'm just trying to reduce the drain on my wallet.

It's been all right so far. Really. The temperature outside hasn't gotten below the low 30s and the double-glazed windows are shut and locked. It helps having three cats to act as live hot water bottles, too.

I'll see how it goes once it gets colder. I suppose turning up the thermostat a bit is preferable to my sitting on my icy hands whining. Thinking of other and older British novels, the proverbial drafty 19th century manse may seem romantic, but living in a house that feels like one is not.

Ghosts in My Garden

This is what my camera captured in my back garden this chilly late October night . . . "I see dead people . . . !"

Or dead something, at any rate. These "shrouds" are purposed to protect the last of my sweet peppers, eggplants, and tomatoes, as well as the newest canes of the climbing rose, from a heavy frost that's forecast for early tomorrow morning. But judging from what I observed when I took the dog out early this morning, the covers may be too late. We got frost up here in the Valleys last night.

Still, I gotta try. There's a lot of peppers on those bushes that'll be fit to eat if they get just a few days riper.

Checking In

Barring Wednesday's theological cyber glitch, I haven't posted for the past week.

And I haven't posted about productive work on the house for I think a week yet again.

That's because, barring routine housework and yardwork, I haven't gotten any productive work on the house done for the past week or two.

It's only partially because of the four-day-a-week AutoCAD class I started a week ago yesterday. It's mostly because in all my current projects, I've met some sort of check or delay or brick wall. And not wanting to do the bitch-and-moan polka, I've said nothing.

After all, you, dear readers (all two of you), want to hear how cleverly I'm solving the problems, not how they're making me wonder what was it, exactly, I didn't like about landlords.

But on the theory that it's more fun to read about the messes fellow-housebloggers get into before they emerge in shining and exemplary success than to plod through the self-glorifying sagas of those who never drive a nail wrong, I'll give a rundown of what I'm embroiled with and how I'm at least trying to take care of it:

Sanding and repainting the Adirondack chairs. Decided to use my Black & Decker Mouse sander to even out the old paint, but I was out of the Velcro (TM) -backed sandpaper sheets that go on it. Lowe's and Home Depot don't carry them. They're hideously expensive even online. But hooray, I found an outfit called Online Industrial Supply, that would sell me 10-yard rolls of fuzzy-backed sandpaper in my choice of grit for a very reasonable price. The two rolls I ordered came couple of days thereafter, and I'm using the last B&D sheet as a template to cut new ones to fit my Mouse. It's going to work great, and I'll get back on the job this weekend, as soon as I finish my AutoCAD homework or the humidity goes down, whichever comes first. Or last.

Reseeding the back yard. Got that done last Saturday. The seeding part, I mean. But the recipe I was using for repairing a dog-damaged lawn says to cover the seed with a quarter inch of compost. I was thinking compost would be too acidic, and I bought five bags of humus-y topsoil instead. It's lovely, rich, black dirt. It's also sopping wet. Quarter inch cover? An inch and a half, more likely! Not counting what sticks to my hands.

I tried emptying two bags worth into the garden cart, to let the dirt dry in the sun. But of course then the rains came. Dirt can't get very dry covered with a tarp . . .

Finally yesterday I said Oh, phooey, and scattered those two bags worth over the newly-seeded area as far as it would cover. It will probably just smother the seeds, but what can you do? The sugar maple tree has started its annual leaf dump, so it's all equal. I'll just have to try again in the spring.

Recovering my drafting board, etc. This is very annoying. The vinyl cover will not lie down flat, even with double-sided tape under it. You'd think after a week or more of resting, it'd behave itself. But noooooo! And it has to be flat, or you get those ugly gray smears up and down your drawing when you slide your parallel bar.

At least, when those of us who still think some architectural drafting should be done by hand slide our parallel bars!

I had an interview (yes!) with another hand-drafting architect this past Tuesday. While we were at it, I asked her about her experiences with covering her board. Told me, she doesn't try to tape the cover down. Just lets the parallel bar hardware hold it to the substrate. And I guess it flattens out eventually.

So I'll try that. But just in case I want to try the tape again, I gave the plywood board a coat of primer this evening. Maybe the sticky didn't work because it was absorbed by the bare wood grain.

Once my studio's put back together, I can get back to real house projects like woodwork stripping and floor sanding and redesigning the upstairs bathroom around the new kittens' litterbox.

That is, unless I'm consuming all my time trying to keep up in computer drafting class. If you don't hear from me before Thanksgiving, blame that.

Or you can blame the dog and the cats. Yes, you could assuredly blame them.

Mysteries Revealed, or A Trip to the County Courthouse

This noon I was down at my new bank picking up my signed copies of my HELOC documents. As a by-the-way, I asked the loan officer, "If I want to find out exactly how old my house is and who owned it before me, should I ask over at the county courthouse?"

"Sure. It's the Recorder of Deeds Office. Go on over. They won't be busy right now."

(It's handy living in the county seat, with the courthouse just a few blocks away.)

So I went and inquired. And found out some things I hadn't expected to learn.

The legend around my neighborhood is that the land was a fruit farm up until 1925 or so. That about that time, the old farming couple died and their grown children didn't want to take on the orchards. That the heirs platted the land and sold it off for building lots, and barring the original farmhouse across the street and the old carriage house down the block, all the dwellings here date from the late 1920s or thereafter.

Well. That's not what it says at the Recorder of Deeds.

The area may well have been a fruit farm-- the plat is called "Groveland Plan." But it was platted and registered in June of 1889.

As for ownership of my lot* and its "appurtenances," it goes like this:

Prior to his death in November 1911, it was owned by Edward J. Allison. It then passed to his children, with a life-interest held by his widow Margaret M. Allison.

19 June 1916, Margaret M. Allison and her adult children Margaret and Dwight liquidated all their considerable property in the plat for the benefit of their minor brother and sister, selling "my" lot to Romaine A. Wilkinson and his wife Laura D.

15 April 1920, the Wilkinsons sold the property to George Henry and Cora Lezonia Jeffrey.

16 April 1920, the Jeffreys sold it to Laurie H. and Kathryn G. McLaughlin.

(There must be a story here. Were the McLaughlins family to the Jeffreys? Was Kathryn a Jeffrey by birth?).

This much I learned from actually looking at the recorded deeds. What follows is from the clerk's print-out:

1 January 1930, Kathryn G. McLaughlin purchased the property (from the estate?) for $4,600.

The next day, 2 January 1930, she sold it to Kathryn C. McLaughlin (her daughter??) for $1.

30 November 1981, Kathryn C. McLaughlin sold the property to Mary K. Soltis for $45,000.

25 June 1987, it was purchased for $1 by Mary Kathryn and James Neri (Hmmm. Are Mary K. Soltis and Mary Kathryn Neri one and the same? I suspect so). These are my POs-1, my Victorianizing previous owners. (Bless their hearts!)

28 February 1997, the Neris sold the land and improvements to my immediate POs, John A. and Kate A. Carpenter for $96,500.

And on 28 August 2003, I, Kate H., bought it from them.

Do you see a pattern here? It was so astonishing to the Deeds clerk that she dropped everything to help me search. Ever since 1920, this property has been owned by someone named Kathryn/Katherine or Kate!

Too strange . . .

But as to the house itself, the Deeds clerk brought up an assessment document stating that it was built in 1916! And she was anxious to point out that it might be older than that and probably is.

What difference does it make the the Sow's Ear is at least ten years older than I thought it was?

It's a matter of spirit as I go about the improvements. It assures me that I'm not abusing the original intention of the house by redoing it with a Craftsman or Arts and Crafts feel. Before, I felt I needed to curb my enthusiasm: after all, I'd tell myself, the house could actually date from the 1930s; maybe I should be going for that sort of style. But no. Now I know my instincts were correct.

And now I know what to look for for examples and inspiration.

There's a lot more I can find out, but that's all I had time for today.

The immediate remaining mystery is, why didn't I run over to the courthouse before and find this out a whole lot sooner?

__________________________________

*My land is actually portions of two lots of the original 1889 plat, but for style's sake, I call it one lot.

So What Can You Do?

This morning I started my computer aided drafting class at the technical institute. And the instructor was taking the class (99% boys, 99% less than half my age) through some basic setup commands. A propos of the dimensioning setup, he commented, "You've got your choice of metric, engineering, architectural, or decimal dimensions. Since this is going to be a mechanical drafting class, we'll be using the decimal dimensions."

Huh? I thought I was taking a class to learn architectural computer drafting!

No chance to ask the teacher about it after class. Besides, what can he do? He's teaching what he's teaching, and I'm a non-degree student anyway. But I had to ask the faculty supervisor down in the office about something else, so I inquired of him-- am I in the wrong section?

No, not really. Turns out the AutoCAD 2008 class I'm taking is a prerequisite for both architectural and mechanical drafting. And apparently it's up to the instructor for the term which one he or she wants to emphasize. It's the luck of the draw.

Meaning that I need to be willing to be bored-- I mean, instructed by having to do up incomprehensible-- I mean, illuminating diagrams of pipe fittings and machinery, in order to get the commands down. That's the point of taking the class, after all.

The faculty supervisor said he could ask the course instructor to assign me something architectural for my final project. But I won't stake my life or my grade on it happening.

Anything Rather Than Actually Work on the House

I've signed up for a computer drafting class at a local tech college.

It's primarily to enhance my professional chances, but I also think it will be fun to mess around on my computer and experiment with ideas for the Sow's Ear.

The interviewer told me that the CAD students draw a house for the final grade. Wonder if I can draw up my own house?

(If not, Mr. Teecher, sir, kin I do up the Craftsman house I've had lurking in my little hed since 19-bluddy-87 or so? Pleeze don't make me draw an ugly ranch box like the ones I saw postid at the kollidg, pleeeeezzz!?)

When I draw up digital ideas for my ugly foursquare box, I can post them on here. I'm sure you'll be waiting with anticipation and glee.

Ticking Things Off the List

How very odd. Last night and this morning I wrote in my calendar what I hoped to accomplish concerning the house today, and I actually did them! And it's not even 11:00 o'clock yet!

Here's the list:

*Go to the bank and sign the papers for my new home equity line of credit. It'll be a few days before it's accessible, due to the three-day recission rule and the paperwork that has to be done on the bank's end after that.

Well, I wasn't dying to use it right away, anyway. Just nice to have the lower interest rate, and know the money's there.

*Call the trash haulers and see if they'll take my old drafting board with the trash tomorrow morning. Check! (Though it'll be up to the driver to decide what the extra fee will be. Hope he's in a good mood.)

*Fill the rough places in the replacement plywood drafting board and make it smooth to receive the vinyl board cover. This was an all-day process, of course. Started with spackle, finished with joint compound. Started with wet sanding, finished with dry hand sanding. Started in my front room where I have plenty of floor space and light, finished in the basement which is darker but where I have a better chance of keeping the dust contained.

(Speaking of dust, do they make dust masks for people with small faces? When I wear the mask, I can't wear my glasses. The mask rides so high, the glasses won't stay on my nose!)

I played with the idea of going on tonight to iron on the edge banding and maybe even to stick down the vinyl cover, but I'll wait. I can just see me making a mess of my good clothes iron. Maybe I'll visit the Goodwill or the Sally Army thrift store tomorrow and see if they can sell me an iron I wouldn't mind mucking up.

*Remove the edge pull and other hardware from the old pocket-door-turned-drafting board. The edge pull I'm keeping. I've spent a lot of years fiddling with it when I should have been working, and why should I give it up now?

Here's the door/board detached from whatever you want to call that piece of plywood I had it hinged to to give it a slant. Looking at it from the other side, doesn't that old door just scream "1970s"?

*Put the old board out for the trash. All the way down from the third floor and out to the alley. Goodbye, old horse. You've served me well in your day. And thanks again after all these years to A. G., architect of PhilaPa, whose hand-me-down this was.

Then something that got added late in the day:

*Take the new high-pressure hose nozzle and knock the loose paint off the Adirondack furniture. Yeah, the set I was talking about repainting way back here.

It was chilly today. Fall and winter are definitely in the wind. Shortly before sunset it hit me that I'd better tackle this job now, if it's going to get done before next summer at all.

Because the only place to do it was the portion of the backyard closest to the house where my dog has messed up the grass. If I wait till next spring, the new grass will be trying to come up and I'd drown it with all the water. But if I power wash the chairs and table now, the water will dilute the doggie residue. And it won't mess up the grass-- there really isn't any. The paint chips will get raked up with the dead thatch. And doing it right away, there's half a chance I may still get some grass started this fall, before it gets too cold.

I'm debating what sort of surfactant to use to get the actual dirt off this furniture. I'm thinking maybe plain baking soda. Seems to me, it'd be good for the soil. It might neutralize all that doggie acid.

I came back in the house sopping wet, of course. Another good reason not to leave this job till the cold weather really hits.

*And finally, hooray, I made bread. Used to do it every two weeks. Now, hardly ever. Have bread, will eat!