And Done!

First, the backstory. Eleven years ago we ripped down our 10 x 34 deck...right down to the I-beam. We replaced it with a slightly larger footprint (12 x 34) and erected a roof over half the deck, complete with three skylights and the homeowner association-approved cedar shake shingles. And, I do literally mean "we". There were only two things we had to contract out: an architect to provide plans for the deck roof and a welder to add reinforcement to the I-beam to support the roof. After it was finished (and I can't remember just how many weekends we worked on it, but it was at least 12), we ordered wicker furniture from North Carolina and enjoyed it for many, many summers thereafter.

Two years later the association had all the townhome roofs replaced with dimensional asphalt shingles, but "grandfathering" our roof for its life. We thought for sure that we wouldn't have to get out on that roof  again in our tenure here! Unfortunately it was a sticking point for the sale of the townhome; the buyers wanted the deck roof re-shingled. They got an estimate and asked for a $1300 credit on the sale price. We priced out the shingles and knew we could save $1,000 if we did it ourselves.

So, on the Friday afternoon before Memorial Day we started pulling off the shake...the perfectly good shake, I might add! The next step was to clean up the surface, removing old felt paper, nails and staples.

All the new shingles and felt paper were staged in our bedroom and passed out through the windows. We had sold both of our long ladders so there was no other way to get 640 pounds of shingle up to the deck roof except up two flights of stairs!

By noon on Saturday Bill was ready to start laying shingles, working from the bottom of the 17 x 12 roof up toward the house. By quittin' time it was about 45% complete.

On Sunday Bill pushed himself to finish it so that we could salvage part of the holiday weekend and spend the night on the boat. The last hour was an effort...the temperature was pushing 90...and his cigar was just a stub. Finally, after 22 man hours of hot work ... voila!

Here's hoping the garbage man doesn't keep on going after he sees this:

Our buyers' last requested action item to close the inspection contingency is finished. The wicker furniture has been sold. And done!

A Place for Everything

My husband, bless him, is so concerned that I won't have enough closet and storage space for my clothes and other necessities that he's creatively found places to store his own clothes! In the space originally intended for a single-unit washer/dryer, Bill installed shelves for plastic bins for his clothes. There's also enough space on the right to store another one of his recent crafts. Wanting to utilize all the available living space onboard, he built a rolling table large enough for a laptop and paperwork. The legs unscrew from the surface so that all fit nicely into an area about three inches wide.

One of his more creative storage spots is a bit less obvious. Would you ever think to look behind the panel for the electronics wiring for your shoes? Elastic straps hold three pairs of shoes vertically when the panel door is closed.

We'll have to sacrifice one of the berths in the below deck stateroom to accommodate our clothing racks, but I was happy that we could get something that wouldn't have to be affixed to the leather walls of the stateroom. The first photo below shows the lower berth with a double and a single bed and the next photo shows the clothing racks where the single mattress usually is.

In my last blogpost, I mentioned the wine rack that

Bill made. It nicely holds five bottles in a slot below

the audio equipment.

If all goes according to plan, we'll be moving onto the boat full time on June 18th, when I'll be trading a 10-minute, 6-mile commute for a 35-minute trek on the Turnpike in my gas-guzzling Jeep. It's been 22 years since I've had a commute that long, but I figure it will give me a lot of time to think, to listen to K-LOVE (my favorite radio station) and to talk to God. Thankfully, I don't need a cell phone for that!

Come Aboard for a Short Tour

It occurred to me that perhaps you might like to see where Bill and I will be spending most of our time in the very near future. I calculate that we'll have approximately 500 square feet of interior living space -- close quarters, yes, but will take all of 15 minutes to clean! So, how about a house tour?

This is the pilot house, the first room you enter when you board the Pure Grace on her starboard side (that's right to landlubbers). Rather than accept the typical factory-installed captain's chair, which took up nearly half the floor space, we put in a nice gameroom bar chair. Swivel to your left and you'll see a leather L-shaped sofa which pulls out to a queen size bed. Since boaters try to utilize every surface as much as possible, Bill has an idea to put a nice wood clothing chest on top of the shelf behind the sofa.

Next, let's make our way down three steps into the companionway (aka hallway). There's a tiny coat closet and a narrow-shelved cabinet -- a good place for Bill's cigars!

The river yacht has two heads (bathrooms), both with showers. The forward head shower is so tiny it's claustrophic, but when we have overnight guests we sacrifice the stateroom and larger head for their comfort. The second stateroom is on the lower level, actually under the pilot house and has one double and one twin bed and more storage space. There's also a closet that's fitted with electrical and plumbing should we ever feel the need to install a washer-dryer unit, which does both the washing and drying in one drum.

Just around the corner to the right is the master stateroom. The queen-size bed lifts up from the foot to reveal more storage space. There's another small closet so we'll have to store off-season clothes somewhere else. The vanity isn't much good for putting on make-up as sitting on the bed is too far for close-up work!

Beyond the master stateroom is the galley (kitchen) and salon (living room). We have a full-size refrigerator, three burner stove (the oven is not large enough to roast a turkey), microwave and wonderful deep sink. Bill even built a 5-bottle wine rack to fit under the stereo/VCR equipment below the television.

The dining alcove is a tight squeeze for four adults. We passed up the builder's idea of a dinette set and went to Room Concepts in Wexford for a custom pedestal table, with upholstered chairs and a matching bench that doubles as the coffee table. I purchased extra fabric and had a seamstress make three matching pillows for the sofa. The salon sofa also opens to another queen-size bed so we can comfortably sleep nine on board. The section of sofa closest to the television has a foot rest that pops up.

Although it will be close quarters for what weather forecasters predict will be one of our area's wettest, coolest summers, Pure Grace is home sweet home.

A Season of Patience

My family has always loved games and many were the camping trips where we hauled out the Tripoley® box. Christmas get-togethers found us playing a variety of Trivial Pursuit® editions and lately it’s been dominoes for a game of Chicken Foot or Mexican Train. I think we can thank our father for this common love of friendly competition. How well my sisters and I remember monthly Friday night poker games in a round robin of aunts and uncles homes where we’re just sure that Dad was betting with our weekly allowance. Or perhaps, more accurately, attempting to win it!

A year or two ago my sister Beth got me hooked on an online game of Patience, a type of solitaire. I can’t tell you how many hands I’ve played but I know I’ve only won the game twice. Yet I keep going back for what should really be called a game of frustration.

I will be the first to admit that I’m short on patience. And I can’t blame it on this age of technology as I’ve been this way since I was a child. Ashamedly, I recall times when my classmates frustrated me because they just didn’t get it … whether it was reading, or math, or any subject in which I was already a chapter ahead of everyone else.

Hopefully I’ve gotten better at being patient with others, but I’m still impatient with progression. I have to remind myself often that God is in control and that it will all work out in and at the right time. In the New Testament book of James (one of my favorites), he gives us the example of a farmer, patiently waiting for rain and sun to grow his crops and then the right time of autumn to harvest them. You cannot hurry nature.

So, as we wait to hear whether our potential buyers will accept the results of yet another home inspection…as we wait for sunny days to spend on Pure Grace…as we wait for the time to take another trip to visit a few more cities…as we wait for first a little move and then the big move…I pray that I have the patience to savor the end of this chapter before rushing into the next one.  

Thanks, Mom!

This blogpost is dedicated to my mother, Jean Rose.

Caring for four little girls was a full time job for my mother. Add to that a husband whose job as a minister left little time at the end of the day for family, and you wonder how she had time to do so many thoughtful things for us. Saving cereal boxtops to redeem for not one, not two, but three baby dolls for Christmas…then making clothes and bedding for the dolls. (Dad, bless him, carpentered the doll beds!) Allowing us to pick the patterns and the fabric then sewing our dresses late in the evenings. Granting decorating license for our bedrooms…I’m still living down the black and white eye-poppin’ psychedelic wallpaper I chose for my room in 1972. Wearing cotton in her ears while we played our albums a little too loudly, instead of making us turn down the volume. (C’mon, Mom, just how awful were The Carpenters?)

Thank you, Mom, for putting up with the stubborn willfulness that drove you crazy as a young mother. I’d like to forget the many times I provoked you to a most unhappy “end”…mine!

There’s the time that I insisted on sitting on top of the coffee table to listen to you read a story to me and my sisters…breaking a decorative dish in the process, and then cutting a gash in one knee when I insisted on “helping” to clean up my mess. Or the time I thought it would be great to see what a wad of bubblegum would do pressed between the pages of a coloring book; wonder how it ended up in my hair? Then there was my 5-years-old birthday party, when I refused to come out of my bedroom to play with my guests, all because a neighbor boy offended me some way. As an adolescent, there was the time I gave a dramatic reading at a family gathering in our home…from your diary as a young engaged woman. Have you forgiven me yet?

But no matter how many headaches and heartaches I gave you, you gave me the things that made me who I am today. Thank you, Mom, for: Teaching me to laugh at myself. Giving me confidence in myself, and courage to insist on justice for others. Teaching me how to pray. Giving me and my sisters a love for travel and the ability to put down roots anywhere. Showing me, through your actions, what faith really is. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!

Miami, Florida circa 1961 -- Mom teaching me (left) and my sister Patti to say grace before a Thanksgiving meal.

A Lack of Situational Awareness

We had one of those “what in the world could they be thinking?” incidents on Tuesday. But before I tell you what happened, let me give you some background.

Each fall, as late as possible, our marina pulls our boat from the water and puts it up in the boatyard on eight jacks and a keel block. Before we put Pure Grace to bed for the winter, we (well, okay, Bill) spend a day or two power washing river crud from the hull, then carefully erect tents of heavy plastic over the bridge, main deck and back canopy to create a pitch that will channel snow away from the boat.  

When it starts to warm up in the spring (yes, we’re still waiting for that!), Bill puts in several weekends preparing Pure Grace for launch. He power washes the hull again, sands it and then puts two coats of an anti-fouling paint on it to minimize accumulation of algae. Next he waxes the sides that are below waterline or just impossible to reach once in the water. Finally, we take off the tarps and window coverings, install clean lines and fenders (ropes and bumpers to you landlubbers) and she’s ready for another season.

During the one sunny day we had last weekend Bill finished painting the hull. As you just read, many more steps need to be taken, right? On Tuesday afternoon during a downpour the marina called. “Hey, Bill, we have your boat in the water but you don’t have any lines or fenders on it. Better get out here and tie her up.”

So, you’re a regular marina employee, hauling boats in and out of the water every year and you don’t notice that this boat is not ready to launch? A distinct lack of situational awareness. Good thing they don’t fly airplanes for a living!

What bothers me most about this incident is the attitude of the marina staff. The marina maintenance crew had the nerve to complain about the urgent need to install the 50-amp power stanchion at our slip in order to provide power to the bilge pump.

This is a five-anchor marina and part of what makes it a desirable place to dock your boat is the quality, care and condition of the boats. For those who know Bill, you can guess that there are probably few other boats, among the more than 300 at Fox Chapel Yacht Club, that still look showroom shiny in their fourth season.

I’ve been desperately trying to put the best construction on the incident but this time I just have to conclude that some people leave their brains in bed when they get up!

Here Comes the Bride

Last Friday morning I tuned in to the final 30 minutes of the Royal Wedding, just in time for the Bishop’s homily. As I watched Kate Middleton’s chest heave, despite her composed face, it took me back to my first short-lived marriage. My family told me years later that I looked scared to death coming down the aisle and the wedding photos didn't lie!

My gown was beautiful and I think I paid only $120 for it back in 1977. For some reason, well, for two reasons, I saved it until this past weekend. First, I ambitiously thought I could use the material to make a frothy little girl’s dress, back in the days when I did use a sewing machine. Then, inertia set in. The dress was tucked in the bottom of a cedar chest for three decades until I scoured the house recently for yard sale items.

I took the gown to the company charity yard sale on Saturday morning and hung it on a tree, where it gently swayed in the breeze. Finally, a buyer said she would take it if I wouldn’t be offended by what she wanted to do with it. “Oh? What’s that?” I asked. “Well,” she said, “I’d like to use it in a Halloween display for a skeleton bride.” “Ten bucks and it’s yours!”

I’m blessed to have a husband who still thinks of me as his bride and he loves to buy me dresses (and clothes in general). Although he’s had a few misses over the years, for the most part I’m always thrilled to respond to compliments with “Thanks! My husband has good taste, doesn’t he?”

Another side, but relevant, note: the charity yard sale raised just shy of $2,000 for the medical expenses of a former co-worker, whose husband is in Stage IV melanoma. Our thoughts and prayers are with Robin and Tom.

Just Listed!

We played hooky from church this morning to "redd up" the house, as they say here in the 'Burgh, for this afternoon's open house event. Then we get to do it all over again Monday night to prepare for the realtors' showing on Tuesday morning. This is the third time we've been through this drill, first in 1989 and again in 1995 when we sold our Upper St. Clair and Wexford homes but somehow you just never get used to the idea of strangers poking their noses through your home. Our realtor said one of the lookers complained that the floor squeaked and she was talking about the ceramic tile floor, but the realtor implied there may have been a "heavy" reason for that! Inspite of the rainy, chilly weather there were half a dozen visitors today. My husband joked that he could tell how many there were by the number of mudprints on the tile.

I am more than ready to trade in the "April showers" for a few May flowers. The sweet gum tree just outside my study sports both new buds and the old prickly brown balls that will eventually drop and litter the ground below. A robin has again built a nest on top of the downspout that runs along the length of the beam supporting our deck roof; she scolded me quite furiously when I hung a basket of fuschia near the nest. The warming weather also brings out other critters and Ocie has tangled with something, probably another cat. He has another head wound just below his right ear, but application of a hot compress plus Neosporin and he'll heal just fine.

Here is our listing if you care to see it. http://www.pittsburghmoves.com/Property/PropertyDetails.aspx?SearchID=6896327&PropertyID=131999&RowNum=2&StateID=44&RegionID=0&IsRegularPS=True