Kitchen Progress

When last we visited, I had sore knees from tiling, but was feeling pretty good about the progress we were making on the kitchen. The soreness keeps moving from one body part to another as the progress continues, but the feeling of accomplishment remains fairly steady.

We were able to mount the cabinets on the new "window wall" on Friday, and then got the series of base cabinets on the opposite walls installed yesterday. We are looking forward to the templates for the countertops being created this Friday, with their installation 2 weeks after that. In the meantime, I will attempt to turn the eyesore between the lights into a range hood, and will also start work on the wood sill to go across the bottom of the windows above the stove and cabinets.

The only setback we experienced in uncrating the cabinets is that two panels, one 10" by 93", and the other 31" by 93" were delivered unfinished. These panels are supposed to go on either side of the refrigerator, giving it a built-in appearance. Sally just got a call from our former contractor, through whom they were ordered, saying that he would be in touch with the manufacturer about getting them replaced. These parts aren't as time critical as some others, so we're OK with waiting. Before we need them we plan to install all the wall cabinets and the large pantry anyway. There are also holes to cut in the ceiling and roof for the vent and Solatube, and lots of finishing work to keep us occupied.

We have absolutely no regrets about doing this ourselves, other than the sense that we are learning on-the-job just as we get the project finished. If we had only known where we were going to end up, we would have done some things differently in the beginning. Examples of that include our selection of a location for the gas line to the stove (the fit is a bit too tight), the ill-advised decision to follow the directions on filling the joints on the tile subfloor (resulting in difficult tiling and a slightly uneven surface), and our realization on Friday night that we had tiled over the access hole for the wiring for the dishwasher (thanks to some good fortune and a good drill we have power available now).

There will be life after the kitchen. This weekend included a trip to the Tri-Cities to perform a wedding. I am facilitating or leading events the last two weekends in September and the first in October, and even have an interview of sorts tonight for a consulting position. On the horizon is our planned trip to New Zealand to visit Evan and see some of the wonders there. Each and all of these things will be more enjoyable once we know we have gotten the remodeling work done.

Then there are the bathrooms to consider....

Kitchen Update

At long last, we are starting to feel as if there is light at the end of the tunnel. The tile is down and grouted, and today will be sealed. Yesterday we brought a cabinet in from the garage and removed it from the crate, just to see what we have. It was exciting. We've never had a nice kitchen. I can't help but recall the infamous "Stovesaurus" in Appleton, Wisconsin, sorta like the one pictured here....

That was the same kitchen where I intentionally knocked the accidently super-heated pot off onto the linoleum floor, recreating the "China Syndrome" effect from the Jane Fonda movie.

Then there was the kitchen in Oakland, so small that the refrigerator was down at the end of the hallway. And the Aurora, Colorado kitchen with the ugly, cane-pattern wallpaper that we removed, only to discover an ugly, dark yellow wall beneath.

In Mount Vernon we remodeled all the other rooms, and talked a lot about doing something with the kitchen, but had neither the money nor the clarity of vision to do anything. I remember our grand plan to keep the dogs in the kitchen while we took an all-day trip. Cayenne climbed over the six-foot high barrier and greeted us in the front room we we returned. That kitchen was even too ugly for the dogs.

Thus our excitement as the light appears at the end of this project's tunnel. We have scheduled the countertop template process for September 11th, so we plan to have the base cabinets installed by then. The new range hood will require a hole in the roof, but that's why God created the Sawzall, flashing, and roofing cement. We need a hole in the floor for the copper tubing for the ice maker, but that's not a big deal. I'm uncertain about the old garbage disposal, and the dishwasher that was incorrectly installed before, but those questions will also be resolved in time.

So, step by step we move toward having a sink again, and a stove, the feeling of pride in an attractive room, and a sense of accomplishment at how much we have learned in the process.

Chronos, Kairos, and Tiling

Gosh, what a title!

Yesterday I told Sally I thought we'd be able to finish tiling in a couple of hours. Ten hours later we were down to a few edge pieces left. By suppertime this evening we had all the tiles down.

Sally has been pretty gentle with me, considering my forecast of "a couple hours" left to go. In truth, tiling is a timeless activity. You don't really think about time, but it passes... sometimes quickly. When the project is finished, it all seems worth it, and the sore knees and long hours don't seem to matter. I've heard women describe childbirth that way. Perhaps this tiling is the closest I will coming to giving birth, if giving birth was a process that involved knee joints.

Anyway, we're past another important point, and now will move on to grouting and sealing the grout before we finally unpack the first of the cabinets. There's still lots of trim and finish work to do, but we needed to get to this point to make the next steps possible, including setting the template for the countertops, and installing the new range hood. Very exciting!

Speaking of exciting, Sally got a new laser level today so she can determine the high point on the floor from which to level the cabinet ladders, and I got an electric nail gun! Can't wait to fasten something!

Birthday Observance

Today is Sally's birthday, though I feel like I'm the one who got a present, as she finally came home from the Tri-Cities. She celebrated her big day by taking the day off so we could spend 10 hours tiling. We got all the tile down in the kitchen except one piece around the water pipes under the sink. We only have about 8 more partial tiles to install in the entry way. All that stopped us from finishing was the need for some transitional pieces at the top of the stairs.

I showed my romantic side by treating Sally to the Grande Meal from Taco Bell. That's 10 crunchy taco's, Amigo! To tell the truth, they weren't bad after 10 hours of tiling. And after 3 months of not having a kitchen, our creativity has waned, especially when it's late and we're already tired.

The other news of the day is that my bump was indeed a basal cell carcinoma, so I have to schedule an appointment to remove any more tissue that might be malignant. If caught early, such carcinomas are not deadly, but I admit to being less than excited about forehead surgery. My headache from Wednesday's procedure lasted about 18 hours, and I'm not eager for a do-over.

Tomorrow will feature a shopping trip to Home Depot for some tile bull-nose for the top of the steps, some wood molding for transitions, and grout. After we grout and seal we'll be ready to remove some cabinets from their crates in the garage and begin assembling the ladder bases on which they will sit. It's almost hard to believe that this is really going to happen!

Wrist-Cat

Cats are amazing timepieces. The feline currently occupying our domicile, known as Mr. Cat, seems to note the hours of midnight, 3 a.m., and 5 a.m. with the accuracy of a Seiko Quartz. He generally shows up outside the bedroom window at midnight, wanting to come inside for the night. At 3 a.m. he indicates his desire to resume exploration of the great outdoors, and at 5 a.m. it's back inside in hopes of an early breakfast.

You may think I coddle the cat by acquiescing to his requests. In fact, I coddle the cat by not killing him when he yowls outside the window or scratches the woodwork in my bathroom, two of his favorite attention getting devices.

Mr. Cat came into our family via Sally's mother. In that life he was known as Casper. Casper was adopted by Sally's folks to be a companion to Sally's dad after he could no longer manage a dog. Considering that he is, in fact, a cat, Casper was a good companion to Joe, spending long hours curled up on Joe's lap in the old recliner. After Joe's death Casper accompanied Sally's mother to a studio apartment in an independent living facility. When Cleo struggled with a chronic sinus infection she decided that it was allergies, and that Casper would have to be returned to a shelter or put down.

Casper's impending demise did not seem reasonable or fair, and so Sally flew to Colorado in December of 2004 to visit her mom and to rescue the cat. The first challenge she faced was getting him on the plane. There was a 15 pound weight limit, and Casper's studio apartment lifestyle had resulted in his ballooning up to nearly 16 pounds. Sally called me from the airport asking my advice. I said she should cram him into the carrier and try not to grimace or grunt when carrying him. I'm so helpful.

Casper made the trip, though I think Sally has stories to tell about that. Renamed Taj Mahal because of his coloration and shape, he soon earned the moniker Mr. Cat as a result of his stately bearing.

Anyway, I was just telling Sally how uncanny I thought it was that Mr. Cat was so good at telling the time. Then, this morning, I was awakened at precisely 3 a.m. by Mister expelling a hairball on the bed. So THAT'S why people don't wear cats on their wrists, even if they are highly accurate.

Numbskull

Well, I'm back from the doctor's office and mostly recovered, with the exception of an irritating headache. As I sat in the reception area and exam room for an hour waiting for an appointment that I had to make three weeks in advance, I pondered the state of our health care system. I'm not revisiting that argument, as it's clear to me that the opponents of a single-payer option are less than reasonable, and don't probably read my blog or much of anything else.

Once in the exam room, Dr. Holmquist administered a shot of Novocain into my forehead and then departed to care for other (im)patients while the anesthetic took effect. Before long I was a numbskull, even more than common, which brought back other head wound memories....

It was January of 1983, and Sally was GREAT with child. Sally experienced gestational diabetes while carrying Erin, which meant that anytime Sally ate, Erin gained weight... lots of weight. As a result, Sally gained quite a bit as well, to the point of being rather large by the time Erin's expected arrival date approached.

A week and a day before the blessed event eventually occurred, I played in a church league basketball game, which Sally and three-year-old Megan attended. At one point I went down the court on a fast break -- yes, I was once relatively fast, believe it or not -- for a lay-up. As the ball rolled around the rim before dropping through, I turned back up court. One of my teammates, Tony Abts, leapt skyward to follow in my shot -- totally unnecessarily, as it WAS going in -- and then returned to Earth at exactly the spot I was occupying. As both of us were keeping our eyes on the ball, neither saw the catastrophe in the making.

I felt the impact, saw stars, and found myself lying on the court. Someone told me to stay down, as I was bleeding profusely. Tony was standing off a little ways, mouth totally numb, not realizing that he had lost bone (dental enamel, actually) in shedding my blood. To cut to the jagged point, Tony was missing his front teeth.

Sally was quickly commissioned to drive me to the emergency room, where considerable confusion ensued. The staff fully expected to whisk Sally off in a wheelchair, only to be redirected to me. This confusing scene was reenacted several times as we went into the emergency room, got me signed in, and even after my prostrate form was wheeled into an examination area.

That wasn't the last of the slapstick. To quote the parson in the original "Parent Trap", it was a "situation fraught with humor". An orderly stopped in his tracks upon seeing me lying there, asked if I was already married, and countered my affirmative with a shake of his head and a single word: "Good".

After my wound was initially cleaned out, Sally remembered to tell the staff that one of Tony's front teeth had not been recovered. A subsequent flurry of additional cleaning and exploration resulted in the discovery and removal of the tooth from the mangled mound that had been my forehead.

Next, a resident came in offering me an option: We could call for a plastic surgeon and likely wait (and wait, and wait, given the late Sunday evening hour), or he could do the procedure. He said, "I'm not a plastic surgeon, but I did an internship with one." His statement was reminiscent of an infamous line in a commercial of the day, "I'm not a doctor, but I play one on TV."

I agreed, and the resident comprehensively explained and competently performed the surgery. A large, smooth oval was cut around the shredded remains of my blunt dental instrument, and the resulting edges of the flesh were pulled tightly together. Several layers of stitches were utilized in the process. The procedure had several interesting results:

• My forehead swelled up into a FORE-head of immense proportions, frightening small children and exciting paleontologists everywhere, who thought they had discovered a Neanderthal throwback.
• My right eyebrow was pulled upward so far that it was impossible for me to relax and close my eyes. That would be a good question for someone who evidences a facelift: "Gettin' any shut-eye?"
• When the swelling subsided a week later, it did so by flowing down my face, discoloring and partially closing both of my eyes.
• Finally, for months afterward I had absolutely no sensation on the right side of my face, from my eyebrow to my rapidly receding hairline.

As again today, however briefly, I had become a numbskull.

Oh, by the way, Dr. Holmquist excised my "bump", and will send the tissue to pathology. If it turns out to be a basal cell carcinoma, as I suspect, he will do an additional procedure not unlike that one I had done in Wisconsin in 1983. I wonder if Tony Abts is experiencing empathy pains.

Wednesday: Bump Day

The first item on my list today is a trip to Group Health to see Dr. Holmquist. I have a bump on my forehead that needs to be removed. Some of you may think my bump is the result of my hitting myself with the heal of my hand while uttering the Homer Simpsonesque "Doh!" during the remodeling. That's ridiculous. I hit myself with my right hand on the right side of my forehead, and the lesion is on the left.

I had a good day yesterday, crossing many items off my list including mowing the lawn, watering the backyard, and laying 50 tiles. I'm going slower today, in part because of the doctor's appointment, and in part because my knees are quite sore from yesterday's exertions. Given that, I have set more modest goals for the day, including finding appropriate opportunities to use the word "behoove" as often as possible.

Given that, and the need to get myself dressed and ready for my visit to the sawbones, it behooves me to sign off for now. I'll add an update about the bloodletting later.