Almost there

Time for some “after” photos. We still have to get the hog panels in but it’s pretty much done. I’ll be staining the new wood sometime in September after it’s had a chance to weather a bit. This weekend it’s power washing and painting the siding where the old decks were ripped off. Dean will put the new burners in the grill and we should be almost pieced back together again.

We've gone from this:

To this:

 

New railings and a nice shady roof

The side that was crooked is straight and properly supported.

New couch - long enough for Dean to stretch out on

Curtains to keep out the late afternoon sun

Still have to cut the hog panels to size and get them fastened on:

But hey, we still have running water.

Thursday - hog panels

So what fresh hell awaits us today? I’m painting those pillars so I expect the next entry will be written by Dean, detailing exactly which bones I broke falling off the ladder. But I got them painted without incident and it’s starting to look pretty good.

So, hog panels. We experienced some sticker shock when we were looking for deck railings. “We’ll just get those sections at Home Depot you can slap right up – holy crap, anywhere from $60 to over $100 for a six-foot section?” It’s a big deck. We need about 60 feet. Well, that stuff’s not in the budget.

So instead of ridiculously expensive picket-type railings, we’re putting in hog panels. A galvanized steel grid. The local feed and seed store was out of them so we had to order them. Sixteen feet long, 32 inches high, just $22 a panel. Four panels should do it, so just $88 for the whole thing. They look clean and contemporary and they’re cheap and should be easy to install since we’re having the construction guys put a bottom rail 32 inches down from the top one so they’ll fit perfectly.

Thursday afternoon Dean and a friend borrowed a trailer and picked up the hog panels. Which are 34 inches high. We ordered 32 inches. We were told by our hog-panel consultant, AKA “dude working in the feed store that day,” that 32 inches is the standard height. “They’re all 32 inches.” We had the deck railing built to accommodate 32 inch panels. But they’re 34 freakin' inches. “I don’t know who told you that. They’re all 34 inches. That’s the standard height.” Says our new and unfortunately correct hog-panel consultant.

So, we’ll have to cut them off. But we still have running water.

Wednesday - here's the water

The deck guys actually finished up a little early and the results look great. I need to paint the new support pillars so I ran into town for some paint brushes. When I got back, we opened the garage door to get the paint – and water poured out. It was flooded. Turned out we had a broken valve. Dean thought maybe all the variations in the pressure over the past few days broke a valve that was probably already weak and ready to go.

So I got out the towels we use for the dogs (sorry boys) and we started mopping and wringing and mopping and wringing. After an hour or so it was looking a little better so we set up a fan to help dry it off and then started dealing with the rest of the mess. Our garage has really needed a cleaning for two or three years now. We have stacks of stuff packed to the rafters. And now it’s all soggy. So ready or not, time to toss some of this stuff out.

We were probably in a frame of mind to be particularly effective at this unexpected task:

“Your mom gave us this.”

“Throw it out!”

“Your dad made this.”

“Out!”

“This looks like the long-lost Orson Welles director’s cut of ‘The Magnificent Ambersons.’”

“Out!”

“This is the Faberge egg that Tsar Nicholas gave your great-great-grandfather.”

“Out!”

Another couple of hours and we had a good pile of stuff in the front yard. At least a couple of hours ago we considered it “stuff.” Now it’s officially “junk.” We still have more to go, but it’s a good start. You’d be surprised how much room those Faberge eggs and film reels can take up.

So, after all this it’s late and we’re hungry. Dean fires up the grill and . . . after 20 minutes it’s still barely at 200 degrees. We knew we’d have to replace the burners soon. But with exquisite timing, they chose today to fail.

Tuesday - where's the water?

So, Tuesday morning we have running water but we have to deal with the silt in the water lines. That means removing showerheads and faucet aerators, running the dishwasher empty and then pulling and cleaning the filters, running the washing machine empty, flushing the toilets until the water is clean and then scrubbing them, running the ice maker and throwing out the ice until it looks clear – just clearing out all the water lines. Which I did. Until I turned on a faucet and nothing came out. No water again. Dean checked the pressure tank. Zero pounds of pressure. Well, that would be our problem.

He called the pump guy, who came out again Tuesday afternoon. The problem turned out to be a malfunctioning pressure valve. He replaced it and got the water running again. When he was done, Dean reached for his now-considerably-lighter wallet and asked how much he owed. The guy just shook his hand. “This one’s on me.” Guess we’re pals for life after writing him that ginormous check on Monday.

Apparently there was still some silt in the tank, and re-pressurizing stirred it up. So . . . take off the aerators, shower heads, run the dishwasher empty and clean the filters, run the washing machine empty, flush the toilets until they run clear and then scrub them . . . it’s déjà vu all over again.

Here’s part of what it looks like to have a water line dug up through a bunch of trees. This used to be a solid stand of mostly pine trees about 20 feet across that completely screened our driveway off from the road and neighbors below. That was nice. Now it's this.

Guess they dug down into the Bedrock, because they dug up what looks like Fred Flintstone’s video game chair.

We have running water again and the deck is coming along. One of these days we’ll have to deal with the tree carnage that was left behind. We’ll take it one disaster at a time.

More vacation fun

So, here’s what we’re doing on our vacation. That's Dean, standing by what used to be our driveway.

Living in a construction zone wasn’t enough fun, so first Dean threw his back out doing demo. Then we thought we’d go with no running water for the hottest weekend of the summer. And just a pump going bad? Too easy. The water line between the well and the pump house was broken. Which isn’t surprising, since it turned out it was just some crappy plastic that shouldn’t be used for a water line anyway.

We heard those phrases we hear so often about our house: “Don’t know what the heck they were thinking, using this stuff. You can’t do that. Not gonna last. Surprised it lasted this long.”

So Monday they trenched across the yard and through the driveway and ran a new water line. By Monday night we had running water again. Plus silt in all our pipes, from the tank trying to suck water up through the broken pipe and getting dirt instead. So now we need to keep running everything in the house that’s connected to a water line until the water runs clear. Then we can get the house back to semi-normal. Our bank account will take much longer to recover. For what we’ve spent so far on this vacation, we could have had one hell of a real vacation.