Perhaps a Puppy?

We may have found a puppy today.

I just talked to Eli, who totally sounds like an old farmer dude in Gap, PA and he has a litter of labradoodles. Old Farmer dudes are the best.

It seems like it fits all our general dog buying requirements:

He's selling them cheaply (compared to standard labradoodle prices).

He's a farmer dude who breeds for fun, not for profit.

They're second generation hybrids, so there's a good chance of good breeding characteristics.

Now, of course, the labradoodle was not on our list of approved contenders in the Canine Primary, but the no allergy thing is really great and so many people recommended poodles to us that we feel comfortable with this call. And I raised Labs growing up, so while I'm aware that they're dumb as a bag of hammers, I also know that they're extremely personable and hopefully the poodle will offset any intense studpidity.

And if we're at all lucky, we'll get a beast that looks like this:And maybe not one that looks like a Minion of Satan:
But who knows... after hearing about a recent break-in in our neighborhood (Our condolences, T&C), maybe having a Minion of Satan hangin out in your living room would be a good thing. In fact, maybe we'll just name it "Minion" and see what happens.

Why We've been Gone

Before you go getting your panties/boxers/briefs/thongs/commando-ness in a bunch, let me explain...

Literally thousands of letters and comments have poured in to "The House Rules" wondering what has happened to us since March. I've deleted all of them from the blog simply because I'm not the type to publish my fame and critical adoration for the world to see. But here's a sampling of some of the more poignant letters we've received:

"Where the frack did you go? Your blog is like crack. You get us addicted with your incredibly intelligent writing and witty subject choices and then leave us to go through a shaky sweating withdrawal? What's that abouoot?" -Carolyn S., reader from Philadelphia (previously Canada)

"I love your blog. I read it to all the neighbors between tear gassings. And generally it brings everyone together despite the longstanding racial and political divisiveness of the region."- Trey H., reader from Jerusalem (previously the Hooka Bar).

"I'm bored without your blog. Give me something in this semi-charmed life since I don't really have much to do in the studio right now."-Stephen J. from Los Angeles (previously Billboard's Top 40)

"I'm a creepy minion of Satan. But my dad and I still really like to read your blog between routines. Keep it up!"- Nastia L. from Beijing (previously the 5th circle of hell)

"I WILL EAT YOUR BABIES, B#$%H, IF YOU DON'T SPREAD MY MESSAGE OF DOOM AND DESTRUCTION"- Orblokz, Destroyer of Worlds (previously of the planet Yormomiter).

Anyways, here's what happened basically... in March we went to Florida for a nice relaxing spring break. We were staying at Rach's aunt and uncles place in Miami, hangin' in the chickee hut (Yep, its a real thing, more on that later.) having a Dark and Stormy Night at 11:00 in the morning. The weather was amazing, we were relaxed, it was perfection.

And I brought my computer to try and get some blogging done. I was planning on introducing a new feature, "Conversations with Your House" (more on that later too) which is destined to get me in a buttload of trouble with the neighbors but will inevitably be rolicking good fun for you gentle reader.

Anyways, I powered on my computer and was just taking my last sip of the DSN before typing when THIS crazy ass orchid/bean/tentaclebeast of hell thing comes tendriling around the edge of the hut. I didn't think plants (?) could move that quickly, but in one deft move it had entwined my computer, ripped it from my grasp, and retreated into the suburban jungle from whence it came. Fortunately Rach snapped a picture before it grabbed the computer.

Scary for sure. Someone should probably have done a study or expedition or at least started a "Save the Crazy Ass Orchid/Bean/Tentaclebeast from Hell" campaign, but in a sunburned DSN stupor, I shook my head in disbelief, and just decided to go on with our vacation.

So I've been with out a computer for the last 6 months. That's the reason you haven't seen a blog posting. I couldn't blog from work obviously because that would be unethical and cut into my nap time.

Well, this morning, Aunt Janet came to Philly from Miami, and lo and behold, she brought my computer. It had been found 3 miles from their house next to a waste water management reservoir in the Target shopping complex. Everyone's best guess is that the Crazy Ass Orchid/Bean/Tentaclebeast from Hell had more of a taste for Big Macs and thought better of the effect of my PC on its digestive tract.

Sufficed to say, we fortunately have a lot of stories to tell, and we'll be bringing them to you now commercial free.

*Some names and exact circumstances of events have been changed to protect the innocent and the hopelessly lazy.

My Memory of John

My brother John passed away a year ago today. John was an amazing man whose testimony and voice shouted louder and reached farther than many who don't have a crippled body or the inability to speak. My parents asked people to write out their memories of John. If you'll indulge my sentimentality, here's my memories of him...

There was so much time that I didn’t know John. I didn’t grow up with him, not in the traditional sense. Not in the way that everyone else did, where they pulled him out of his chair for adventures and for hide and seek. Not in the sense that everyone else did, where he would go for walks and go drinking with them and their friends.

John and I were housemates. He was in the house and I was in the house but we were miles apart due to our age. We grew up as brothers, but he as a young man and me as a toddler made us little more.

But as I grew up, went to college, and came home an adult of sorts, a newer bond was formed between John and me. Being brothers didn’t matter nearly as much as being outsiders. We were bachelors on the periphery of a spinning mass of parents, spouses, children, in-laws, and dogs. A loud whirlwind that generally spun us a little to the edge where it hurt and we felt a little empty. But it was comforting to have someone else there on the outside with you. And John and I found each other in that. And we reveled in it. We even discovered a certain superiority, whether real or manufactured, in being the ones who stood outside and could rationally look at the whirling dervish for what it was. Other people’s memories are fine and good but I prefer to remember John as that outsider because that’s what we had together.

And so my best memories with John are not marked by words or events, but by the looks he gave me from across the opposite side of the smoky kitchen chaos. While everything else was screaming and laughing, John would give me a look that said, “I see you. I know. You see me. You know.” Or as I drew inward, feeling alone among so many people, he would stare at me until I saw him, and he would give me a glare that would say, “Your self pity isn’t getting you anywhere. I should know.” Or in the moments where the arguments would turn ridiculous and we teetered on the edge of getting angry, John would turn his head my way and roll his eyes, saying, “We are so ABOVE this.” Or he would give me the faintest bit of a smile, one that no one else would see, just to make sure that we were in on the same joke, and that everyone else was on the outside. My greatest memories with a brother who longed to use words but couldn’t were all about the volumes he could speak in silent looks.

I don’t know whether John would have gotten over me abandoning him. When Rachael came into my life, I became so obsessed with being on the inside with her and pulling her into the center of the fray, that I ignored John. Though he still stared at me, though he still rolled his eyes and smiled, I didn’t want to be an outsider anymore. He usually had to resort to yelling at me and at best I sympathized with his outside condition but I could no longer empathize because I was rapidly more and more inside. I regret so much that we didn’t have more time to find a new footing for our brotherhood to stand on. I don’t know what it might have been.

But I have to keep reminding myself that for John, he’s no longer alienated and marginalized. I’m sure he’s having a great time with his legs, but I usually imagine him packed into a group of people so tightly that legs are irrelevant. I always picture him in the middle of an all black, all female, bouncy gospel choir just going off clapping and singing, “Forever God is Faithful”. Or in the middle of a impossibly dense throng of blindingly white robed saints with his arms raised up singing “Holy, Holy, Holy!” to the even brighter Lamb on a throne that is so vividly close. Wherever I picture him, he’s in the center of whatever is happening. So I kind of don’t imagine John running up to meet me at the gates of heaven. In the midst of everything he’s got going on now, he’s way too busy and overjoyed to look back out to the edges. So I look forward more to just randomly bumping into him when we both get caught up in the massive heavenly mosh pit.

The Canine Primary

We're at a crucial juncture in our society. The decision we make in the coming months could well affect future generations in ways we can't even begin to comprehend. This is probably a momentous turning point in one of the most important issues that America faces today...

How to get a dog that is:
Thoroughly Manly;
Emotionally Self-sufficient;
Low Maintenance;
Spatially Manageable;
and Potentially Namable

We've been debating our options for some time. We open the floor to commentary.

A few things to know as you contemplate the options and possibly suggest others:
1. We both have full time jobs.
2. Our yard is small.
3. I grew up breeding dogs and am highly suspicious of newer hybrid "breeds".
3. Long Hair isn't an option.
4. People who like toy dogs deserve a nail in the eye.


The Contenders:
Rated on scales of 1 to 5, 1 being low, 5 being high.

Bull Mastiff:
Manliness Quotient: 4
Emotional Neediness: 4 (Needs people and is WAY overprotective.)
Energy Output: 2
Spatial Compatibility: 4
Namability: 2. (No thoroughly defining characteristics which jump out to suggest a name. A good candidate for the name we had already agreed upon, "Raold Dog".)

Great Dane:
Manliness Quotient: 5
Emotional Neediness: 3 (Needs people but not overprotective)
Energy Output: 1
Spatial Compatibility: 4 (Only slightly problematic. Even though he doesn't need to run, where do we keep him?)
Namability: 5 (You can either go the realistic route, with "Thor" or "Gibraltar" or "Zion", or you could be tounge in cheek and name it "Precious" or "Petite" or "Nancy".)

Puggle:
Manliness Quotient: 0 (The only way this dog is allowed on here is cause of the beagle half.)
Emotional Neediness: 2 (Although hard to tell with a hybrid.)
Energy Output: 4 (But can be expended mostly indoors.)
Spatial Compatibility: 5
Namability: 5 (If we went with something like this, I could only tolerate naming it "Thor" or "Gibraltar" or "Zion". But we'd also never refer to it as a puggle. I'm leaning toward renaming the breed as a Chinese Hunting Hound.)


Rhodesion Ridgeback:
Manliness Quotient: 4
Emotional Neediness: 3
Energy Output: 5
Spatial Compatibility: 3
Namability: 2. (No thoroughly defining characteristics which jump out to suggest a name. Again, perhaps, "Raold Dog".)

Really not a good fit for us, but I included her cause Rach fell in love with the dog while watching Jane Austen Bookclub.

Boxer:
Manliness Quotient: 4
Emotional Neediness: 3
Energy Output: 5 (Really the only drawback to this dog.)
Spatial Compatibility: 5
Namability: 5 (Sky's the limit. Maybe "Brewster"? Or "Owen Meany"?)

This has been our longstanding fave since our days down in Grad Hospital. We could never remember our next door neighbors' names but their dog "Madison" was AWESOME. We pretty much looked forward to coming home every summer day and seeing her peer out the the screen door at us as we went inside.


Basenji
Manliness Quotient: 3
Emotional Neediness: 3
Energy Output: 5 (But mostly expendable indoors.)
Spatial Compatibility: 5 (In addition to the size being a plus, apparantly they don't bark. They ululate or yodel... Interesting. They also clean themselves like a cat.)
Namability: 5 (With a dog that weird, there are a lot of options. Like naming him "Umlaut" or "Quinine" or "Ululate" or "Zanzibar" or "Ebola".)

Please give us your opinion, keeping in mind that in reality, we can really only afford to go to the SPCA and pick up whatever adorable dog they have for us that week...

The Crown Molding Gang

And Now, another episode of "Conversations with Our House"...

Scene: I walk into the dining room getting ready to scrape and sand the woodwork.

ME: Hey Guys, hows it going?

CAVETTO: Sup Chump. Me & OGEE here were just talkin smack about your mom.

ME: Heh, heh. Yeah, ok. That's cool, whatever. I just wanted to know how things were. See if you wanted my help... I've got my 120 grit sandpaper here and this handy high carbon steel scraper...

OGEE: Look at this! Mother*&(%er wants to go!...

CAVETTO: Heh. Chump better recognize. Hear that, OVOLO?

ME: No, really, I don't want a fight, I just came in here to see how things were. Help you guys out, you know? I know you've been here for a while and I was just going to scrape off the old paint and put on a new coat. Seriously..., just trying to help.

OGEE: What? You saying we're not pretty enough for you?

ME: No, wait, that's not what I meant...

CAVETTO: Bitch, I'm gonna teach you how to respect...

ME: Hey, hang on a sec, can't we just chill?

OVOLO: I'm gonna kill you mother$%#^er...

ME: Hey! Ow! Ugh! Oh! No!
(Sounds of Punching, Scraping, Pistolwhipping, etc.)

(Silence)

CAVETTO: That's what happens when you mess with the Crown Molding gang, bitch. C'mon guys, lets go get a couple of 40s and eat leftover ziti and cannoli.

ME: Groan.

OVOLO: Grrr.

(Thunk. A Parting shot to the Kidneys.)



Postscript: Note the blood on the wall in the above pic. Eventually my cousin Tim came over and essentially picked me up off the floor. He took one look at the molding I'd been scraping and basically told me that for all my pain and bloody knuckles, I was being an overly perfectionist zealot. I'd been trying to scrape and sand the molding down to bare wood, just in order to get the best finish surface possible for repainting. He reminded me that NO ONE IS GOING TO NOTICE.

Now I know that I'm an idiot. And knowing is half the battle.

Slizzard on Color

So, its a rather slimy day outside. The Northeast has been blanketed in snow, freezing rain, sleet, fog, and rain.

(One local radio broadcast referred to this as a slizzard. I tend to put more faith in urbandictionary.com which defines "slizzard" a bit differently.)

Now, typically, this would be another opportunity for me to rant about people who use umbrellas.

(Which would be well-deserved, because people who use umbrellas basically care more about their hair than other people's safety. Bastards.)

But I'm trying to swear off being an jerk about that online. (For now... So instead, I let loose my frustrations audibly to the folks on the train ride home, and now I turn to other things...

I got home tonight and saw this post from Tiny Old House, which has inspired me to get back into the dining room tonight. They make it look fun...

But before I do, I thought I'd answer Tim & Denise's query...

Current Dining Room Color... "Safety Glow Orange." Apparently. the previous owners used the dining room as a hunting blind, which makes sense as our neighborhood has long been renowned as a duck and deer hunting mecca.


Note the horrid kitchen color we painted beyond which has GOT to go... I think it was called "Cardamom Vomit". Probably not that bad in another setting, but it doesn't have enough contrast with our maple cabinets.

So here's the projected Dining Room in "Saddle Brown"

with the Kitchen beyond in Smoldering Red...

Also, if you're a paint color fanatic makes sure to check out colorcharts.org It allows you to find matching colors you like from multiple manufacturers. Really like that paint on your sister's wall but they don't have it at the Home Despot, where for some unknown reason you do all your shopping? Color Charts can help you out...

Its Fashion Week... (in our Dining Room Project.)

We're having kind of an odd winter. Usually the months of January, February, and March are depressing and isolating. All the folks in our social circles go into hibernation and my extrovert appetite cannot be sated. I need people to give me worth and validate my self-perceived comedic genius...

(Seriously, if you want to leave a comment saying how funny I am, I really won't mind.)

So I fully expected to be crankin' away on this Dining Room project by now. But oddly enough, our social calendar is penciled in from edge to edge. Every forseeable Tuesday and Wednesday, every Friday and Saturday in February, half the week-end-nights of March, and a couple of days in April are booked! I don't know if this "early spring" social activity is Global Warming related, but whatever, I'm not complaining. My extrovertometer is running like a pop starlet on the club circuit hopped up on Speed.*

But I guess I am a tad ashamed that we haven't gotten more done.

Just before our parking pass for downtown expired, we took one of our last days driving to pick up my boss's steamer. So, since we have to return that to him, we do have a slight fire burning under our asses to get this thing going.

So here's Rach starting to Paper Tiger the wallpaper on the ceiling and above the chair rails in our Dining Room.


That was going well, and simultaneously, I was sanding the trim work on the other side of the room. The first day of this went ok, but after showering up, I looked in the mirror and discovered I had like 5 flecks of high gloss white paint in my eye. Now, I'm no health freak and I think most people who are abundantly worried about preserving their lives should spend a little more time living. But I didn't like the idea that the inside of my eyelid was a veritable Sherwin Williams so I got some eye protection from the basement and bought a couple of masks. You never know about the whole Lead Paint thing in an old house, and I figure that I smoke enough cigars that I probably can't afford to have a layer of lead ON TOP of all that...



But there was a problem...



I was suffocating... It was impossible to breathe through that thing. I was confident a layer of lead dust and nicotine and tar would be better than this crap.



So Rach went into the adjoining Kitchen and found some linen kitchen towels that are working far better. They may not have the microdust protection but hey, its not like we have kids...

(And let's be frank, kids these days could do with a little more hazardous material exposure. When I was a kid, I played barehanded with a jar full of mercury that my dad collected from thermostats and batteries that HE found in junkyards when he was a kid. And other than my extra testicle and the deformed partial mutant bat wing growing between my shoulder blades, I'm fine. My wife thinks it all very sexy.)




And as an added benefit, being able to drink a Magic Hat Jinx beer while sanding is totally key to making an otherwise overly laborious job that much more tolerable.



And yes, I know we're going to get comments about how we're wearing burkas. But actually, I think they more closely resemble niqabs. I've found a handy breakdown of muslim veil fashions for everyone here, in case you're interested.



Footnotes:
* The House Rules is not condoning the existence of Pop Starlets.

Deck Design Tips

As an Architect, I pretty much loathe doing residential work. Residential clients need a lot of hand holding and change their minds an average of 17 times about the finish they select for a doorknob in a basement closet that no one will ever see.



Depending on the contract and your business relationship, this can mean a lot of money in the Architect's pocket because every time you change your mind, I have to change the drawing. That costs you money.

But I think that most of the time, a halfway decent Architect can do a pretty good job of selecting the right look for your house and if you let them do their job and you'll be pleased with the results. A Good Architect will rifle through all the information and get your feedback on the things that are actually going to be important to you in the final product. We've done this many times before. It's probably your first time. Don't worry, we'll be gentle.

With that intro, I just finished a project in Chicago. It started out as a roof repair job for a badly detailed house. I can confidently say badly detailed because the townhouse was about 15 years old and the roof was ready to fall in on the owner's bedroom. Proper roof venting and double wythe masonry wall detailing cannot be overly stressed.

As the project grew into a penthouse remodel/expansion and roof deck terrace, the budget grew as well. Unfortunately, when the bids came in, the price tag for Union Labor* was shocking and the owner scaled everything back to pretty much a roof replacement, parapet wall reconstruction, and new roof deck.

When budgets start to get crunched, often the higher price tag items get nixed at the expense of long term quality. But at the end of the day, the owner did go with my recommendations with only minor foot draggery.

I designed the deck as a series of 3'-8" square removal panels on double 2x6 joists. The removable panels make the lower roof maintenance a breeze and the double 2x6s give a solid surface for the panels to rest against while minimizing the overall height of the structure. This allows more air to circulate under the deck so it will dry out faster, preventing freeze/thaw issues that can eventually damage the roof membrane. Sure, it would've been cheaper to do straight decking with no panelization... until you have to rip everything up to clean under there or do any modifications.


Deck Panelization and Hidden Fastner Assembly

I also specified Ipe (ee-pay) lumber** for the deck panels. Its a dense Brazilian hardwood that weathers extremely well, doesn't splinter, and lasts exceptionally longer than other natural decking materials without pressure treating, sealants or preservatives. Sure, it would've been cheaper to use pine... until you have to seal the deck every couple of years, replace it in 10 years, and spend a buttload of money on band-aids for all those 1" long splinters that find their way into your heel.


Routed Deck Board and Dense Fiber Structure of Ipe

Lastly, I specified Tiger Claw Hidden Fasteners for the deck. They have a sweet little design that firmly holds your routed edge boards to the joists with no visible screws. They also have a set 1/8" spacer built into the design so that your boards are consistently placed.


Tiger Claw Deck Fastner

Sure, it would have been cheaper to use screws, or even cheaper to use nails... until one day, in a gin soaked binge drinking episode***, you trip over your toy poodle*** and land facefirst onto the deck where a nail that has worked itself out of the deck surface stabs into your EYE!


Poodle Shown Actual Size


So the moral here is "Let your Architect do their Job... Or This Could Happen to You...".

Your Eye

Footnotes:
*Don't get me started on the excess of power that Unions have in our country. For those of you who don't know "Unions are to Democrats as Corporations are to Republicans". Believe it, cause that was a real SAT test analogy.
**If such a thing is possible, you should try to verify that your IPE comes from a sustainable source.
***I have consistently found that people who are wealthy enough to hire an architect to design their deck usually have gin soaked episodes and own a toy dog or multiple toy dogs. It should be noted that people with toy dogs probably deserve a nail in the eye.

Inevitable Truths

Well, February has arrived. And with it, we must face a horrible truth:

(No, not the inevitable extinction of our species due to government subsidization of agriculture, specifically corn... We'll face that inevitable truth in March.)

The inevitable truth is that we (Rachael and I) no longer have a valid parking permit for downtown Philadelphia, Zone 1. We got a permit while renting our old apartment in Grad Hospital, and we've been using it to park downtown for the last 8 months on the three days we drove into work. Probably slightly illegal, and the moral ramifications of such a decision are less than transparent, but with two people and free parking, it was incrementally cheaper than taking public transit.

However, this too must pass and now we've entered another season of transportation. The Regional rail stop is about a block from our house and its so nice to arrive at work after a half hour of reading about the inevitable extinction of our species due to antibiotics required to sustain feed animals in the industrial food complex. It really just is so much more peaceful than Rush Hour on Lincoln Drive.

Plus, SEPTA, (South Eastern Pennsylvania Transit Authority), has decided to welcome us back with open arms and these nifty trailpasses that are promoting the "Science of Star Wars" exhibit at the Franklin Institute.


Now, I'm not really a Star Wars geek, though I do have fond memories of my best friend's Boba Fett action figure and my Darth Vader action figure battling it out over the sandbox in his backyard. (Which was probably comprised more of catpoop than sand, but neither of us has any serious diseases today, so I consider us none the worse for wear.)

Both figures were tragically lost in a failed recreation of the "Sarlacc Incident", which was mythologically incorrect as Boba Fett and Darth Vader never met, Darth Vader was not on Tattooine at that time, and they would not have been enemies anyways. Maybe the toxic bacteria from the catpoop was infecting our higher cognitive skills...

ANYWAYS, Septa had something cool on their trailpasses for the month of February. This is nice, but does not change the fact that SEPTA is still my archnemesis and that "Destroy Septa and all its Employees" is still Item #1 on my To Do List...

Seriously, its on my office wall at work, right above:
#2, Revise Industry Standards for Door Labeling
#3 File Emails
#4 Make Rebecca Cry
#5, Convert MaryEllen to a Republican
#6 Join US Olympic Curling Team
#7 Get Delaware to Secede from the Union
#8 Signage Details for Jacksonville Project.

In reference to Item #1, I just wanted to link to Septawatch which is a nice site chronicling everything Septa does wrong and why they're utter Butt Monkeys.

Dining Room Before

So, I've been accumulating a few posts, and this biting arctic eve seemed like a good time to take a break from sanding and upload some of these ruminations.

Below, gaze upon the diner la pièce before any labors commenced... In addition to the glaringly overt paint hue concerns, everything above the chair rail (including the ceiling) is wallpapered which needs to be dislodged . We have to refurbish all the woodwork to get a satisfactory finish. There will be plaster reparations. Then, we can get to the enjoyable allotment of repainting.



Furthermore, here's a few of the secondary undertakings we hope to also include in the overall enterprise:

Retreading the radiator finish;

Reconditioning the buffet;

Rewiring the sconces;

Buffing and servicing the door hardware;


Now, if my words seem abundantly eloquent or the articulate nature of my orations seems unnecessarily loquacious, it's because I have to convince myself that I'm not losing functional gray matter due to the fact that DANCE WAR***: Bruno Vs. Carrie Anne** is on TV in the background.

I swear this is the beginning of the End Times. This TV writer's strike is anathema** to me.

Footnotes:
*New Testament meaning, not original Greek, you linguistic freak.
** Also, who the frick are Bruno and Carrie Anne?
***Wouldn't it be awesome if the situation in the middle east was a Dance War? Just imagine, tonight on ABC, "DANCE WAR: Shiite Vs. Sunni. Is this a Just Dance War? O r has the Dance Surge been effective?"