Deep Breath

I know that CPM and I are not the first people in the history of the world to lose a pet. But really, nothing prepares you for it. I have two other dogs and a cat to love, and I still can't stop thinking about the one that we said goodbye to this weekend. The house feels empty, when in reality, it is still full of puppies and dog fur tumbleweeds.

Things that really suck: doing my normal routine, and realizing how much time Ollie spent shadowing me, and just MISSING that shadow so desperately that I burst into tears at random and odd moments. When I would be chopping food up and cooking dinner, he would position himself so close to the counter, that stray vegetable scraps would typically land right in his mouth. Smart dog. He lay under my chair at dinner. Right under it. Chair adjustments were a challenge. He slept in my armpit, or right up against my back, or with his head on top of my chest, always. He lay by my feet when I sat on the couch. He loved apples and tomatoes, cheese and bread. Well, he loved all food actually. He loved to give kisses. He loved to "shake paw." He loved to chill. He was an incredible pet.

That I have written those last two paragraphs without sobbing is a major improvement. I realize now that I could never be a no dog household...I'm not even sure how we survived all those years that we didn't have pets. I took the other two dogs to get baths yesterday, and the emptiness of the house was painful.

The other dogs know that Ollie is gone. They both obsessively smelled the jeans I wore to take him to the emergency room on Saturday morning. Squirt whined all day, looking for him, frantically making me take her outside to the yard, then back in the house, to find him. Bones is just sad. It's funny. Ollie was the glue that held the pack together. Bones and Ollie were buds, Squirt and Ollie were buds. Bones and Squirt just kind of pass each other in the hallway, occasionally interacting. I'm sure that dynamic will change. They are both mad at Rocky, the cat, which is new. Maybe they blame him.

Today at the new house, we have our framing re-inspection. We failed the first go round, had to do a few things to satisfy the building inspector. If we fail this time, after the weekend that I've had, I may just lose my mind. Fingers crossed, knocking on wood, etc. I need this week to go better than the weekend.

Ollie

Dear Ollie,

Almost eleven years ago, your dad and I went to the SPCA hoping to adopt a friend for your big brother, Bones, because we thought he was lonely. (We later learned that Bones is just morose and depressed all of the time, and would have preferred to be a lone dog.) You jumped up in excitement when we approached your enclosure, and peed right through the gate onto my Saucony. At that moment, I knew you were meant to be ours. You were about 12 weeks old when we brought you home.



For a little while, you were smaller than Bones.


You quickly tried to become Bones' best buddy.


You also tried to become his boss. You definitely won. The blanket lost though. I would later enter this room to find the two of you sheepishly covered in stuffing, one corner in each of your mouths.



You remained Bones' boss for a while. You were the terror of the house in your puppy hood. While Bones would peacefully hang out in the kitchen behind a baby gate while we were at work, you chewed through the gate, escaped to find where we hid the treats, ate them all, then pooped all over the living room. While Bones was content to gnaw on his water bowl or the phone cord, you figured out how to open all of the drawers and cabinets in the kitchen. You ate all of my tupperware, all of my plastic utensils, all of the tin foil, baggies and wraps. You also somehow managed to one day ingest an entire gallon of olive oil. That was a stain that never came out of the rug. I once made a panicked call to the vet to find out if an entire package of fudge striped cookies would kill you. I don't know how many pairs of slip on Vans you ate. (Eventually, you resorted to simply cuddling my shoes, with your nose stuffed inside. Weirdo.) As I said, you were a terror. I laugh now, but then, I thought I wouldn't survive your puppy hood. I did, though, and you became the best dog, absolutely devoted to me.



Okay, so I apologize for Squirt. She usurped your alpha role in the house, within minutes of her arrival, actually. But she loved you immediately.





You both became my constant shadows. You slept by my side, she at my feet. I was never cold at night with the two of you around me. Right now, I wonder what it will be like to sleep with just one dog. (Bones prefers to hunker on the couch, pretending that I don't know it.) Possibly, I will no longer smush over into your dad at night. But mostly, I know I will really miss your weight on my side. It was a constant reassurance that you had my back. I also knew I would never fall off of the bed. Thanks bud.

Your favorite place was on a pillow, or cuddled with me on a blanket. You were, how do I say this, not the most energetic of dogs. For a while, one might even refer to you as "chubby." I'm sorry about putting you on the diet food, but it was for your own good.





This morning you left me. The doctor said that cancer ruptured something inside of you, and it was making you bleed inside your belly.



You weren't supposed to go so soon. Your dad and I bought a new house, with no steps, but it's not ready yet. Since your knee surgery a few years ago, you haven't liked the steps. You always waited until you were sure I wasn't coming back downstairs to make your way up to bed. You never met me in the basement when I got home from work, unless I called you down to go outside. When you did do steps, you took your time, allowing your insane sister to careen down the stairs past you, while you waited for her to pass, and then gingerly descended. You were so regal. If you could have spoken, I'm sure you would have had an upper crust British accent.



My Ollie, I will miss you.

A moment.

I know the moment that I lost my sense of despondency over being trapped in a never ending home improvement project. It was the moment yesterday when I received the picture above via text message. It's a front door! A real door! For some reason, it makes me feel like this all will end for real some day soon. It's so dramatic! I feel like there should be a door installation ceremony, similar to the steel topping off ceremony that is held when a high rise is being constructed. There wasn't, but I did get to visit the door last night. The door is just fine.

For reference, here's one of the before views:



So the house looks like a house from the street now, and not some abandoned shack.



Progress, people! Progress.

Progress!

I'll be honest. I thought we'd be living in the new place by now. Really, I should know better. In my professional life, I deal constantly with construction projects. I know all about delays. I guess I just thought that in my "real" life, I'd be immune. Unfortunately, I'm not. I've said this a few times in previous blogs, but it's now official: I hope we live in the house by the winter holidays. (I'm superstitious. I bet I just doomed myself to a President's Day 2011 moving weekend by putting that hope in writing so frequently.)

It's really frustrating that I don't have some sort of super power to make the construction be done NOW. Progress has been made, though. This weekend, we worked on electric and lights.

Obsessing over Half an Inch.


New windows are going in. It's hard to tell from the photos below, but those windows are all five feet tall. Five feet, people! I could stand upright in them!

This is the view of the dining room and living room, I'm standing in my kitchen.


This is the fireplace. I'm still a little freaked out that I will have a fireplace. It makes me wish I celebrated Christmas.


This is a view into my bedroom.


Finally, Phase 2 of "put the old exterior windows way up in the high wall inside the house" was successfully completed.

The Artist At Work


Dude with Ginormous Head Not Included


I also managed to complete a Halloween costume (poorly), attend a Halloween party (good times), and hand out candy to numerous trick or treaters (some lame ass kids had no costumes. What is wrong with America?). Phew. I'm really ready to have a "normal" week.

Gushing.

Allow me to brag and name drop for just a moment. My husband, the great and powerful CPM, plays a mean guitar solo in None More Black. Today, NMB's newest record, Icons is out. I've been rocking it in the gym and in the car for the past few months. That's one of the benefits of being married to a band member...early access to their recordings. (Other benefits include an unending supply of t-shirts and hooded sweatshirts.) This record is awesome. Get it.

So, this past Saturday night, NMB played the Fat Wreck Chords CMJ showcase in Brooklyn, NY. This meant that the band members descended on my house for practice a few days prior to the show. I am lucky enough that CPM doesn't ban me from "guy time," so I get to hang out with the guys (this weekend's activity was a viewing of Jackass 3D) when practice is done. Truly, these guys are family now. I love each and every one of them. Also, they all eat my food and say I am a good cook, so that scores them points in my book. I live to feed people. It's the nurturer in me.

Someone recorded some of Saturday's show. Take a peak.


Not seen in the video is CPM's backstage orchestration of a triumphant use of Twitter to get someone's horrible/mean/awful girlfriend to finally break up with them. I normally disapprove of public displays of relationship troubles, but this girl was stalker level psycho, and wouldn't take a hint (Hint: If your boyfriend ships you back to your home state, that means he wants to break up.) I guess after about twenty random Twitter users sent pics of her guy with other girls (including a few professional dominatrixes), she finally caught on. Evil girlfriend eliminated.

I can honestly admit that I laughed more this weekend than I have in a while. CPM and I took a break from working on the new house and just hung out. We'll get back to house renovating this weekend.

Yesterday, I stayed home from work to sew a Halloween costume for myself. It's been months since I used the sewing machine. Nothing has changed...I spent a lot of time ripping out seams due to silly mistakes. I also found myself approximately 1 yard short of the main fabric that I was using, so I'm totally hacking the costume with two different fabrics. My goal is to use only fabric from my stash. I'm sewing Simplicity 4940. (It really is easy, I just made a stupid mistake and twisted something while sewing, necessitating the seam tearing. It was totally frustrating.) Hopefully, I can correct the error and get this thing done before the weekend.

Duct. Done. Dude.

Spouse (aka Mr. Super HVAC guy) and I spent the weekend completing the installation of the duct work in the new place. When we bought the place, it had radiators. Yes, I know, radiator heat is awesome and super efficient, and doesn't cause bloody noses and headaches the way forced hot air can. Radiators, however, take up a ton of space in a tiny little house (one radiator beneath every stinking window), so they were demoed early on. We had intended to install radiant floor heat throughout the place. Then, the reality of the budget set in. We value engineered (go, me, with the construction terms) the radiant floor, and will instead have forced hot air. Mr. Spouse will install a humidifier so that I don't get dry air bloody noses and headaches. (They work fabulously, we have one in our current house heater, and I haven't had a problem since Mr. Spouse installed it.)

The plumbing is in progress. I forgot to take a picture of the big ass trench in the basement floor where the drain line was installed. If I disappear before that trench is filled in, you know where to look for the body now. If all goes well, the plumbing should be done this week. I still won't have a real toilet in the place though. Me and Mr. Porta Potty are getting used to one another. The key is to keep the number of people using the thing to a minimum. Unfortunately, this contradicts our need to have actual people doing work at the house. Maybe I should force all of our helpers to maintain a liquid only diet....hmmmmm.

For some reason, we've delayed starting the electrical work. Fingers crossed we get to that this weekend.

Once all of the mechanicals are completed, we will move to what is proving to be perhaps the most expensive part of the project: the spray foam insulation. We have decided to go with closed cell spray foam insulation in all of the exterior walls and in the ceiling. Because we vaulted the ceiling, and the joist bays are so shallow, we actually do not have the space to use traditional fiberglass insulation. Which is good, since fiberglass insulation is actually crap. So, what have I learned about spray foam insulation? One: it is not cheap. You can save some money by using open cell foam, but you need more of it, and it is not as good as closed cell foam. Two: It outperforms traditional fiberglass insulation so well that traditional R value ratings are irrelevant, and theoretically, you should only need a minimal layer. However, your local inspector will probably force you to install the code required R value anyway. Hence, you will be getting prices for 5.5 inches of closed cell foam in the ceiling, and you will drop dead from shock at the cost. Then you will start cutting the budget in other places to make up the money. C'est la vie.

This week will be a bit chaotic, since Mr. Spouse will be playing Mr. Rock and Roll Guy. Having house guests means I have to clean the bathroom instead of just wiping it down with a Clorox wipe and calling it a day. It also means we will get nothing done at the new place. Sigh. At this rate, I only hope we get to live there for the winter holidays.

Wait, what day is it?

I begin this blog with a photo of a couple of Vegan Treats dessert items enjoyed at the wedding of some friends. No, I am not vegan. Yes, it's because "I can't live without cheese." Yes, I know what they do to cows to get the cheese made. I get over it. I also don't believe that vegan desserts are better than regular desserts. These ones are very, very good (Peanut Butter Bombe cupcake and Pumpkin Cheesecake) but I'm sorry, the best butter cream has real butter in it. The end. (Actually, not the end, because I have done a lot of vegan baking in my day, and I'm sorry, I simply prefer to bake non vegan. I could go on and on and on about why, but I won't. It's boring, and lots of people disagree with me, but I don't care. But I will bake vegan for you if you are vegan and I love you.)

So, where are we in house progress? Well, it looks the same way that it looked two weeks ago. Hence, no new photos (but see below for reference). There is a big ditch in the basement (for the plumbing), and some duct work has been installed. We're square in the midst of the mechanical portion of the construction. It's not as glamorous as the demo and the framing. But, it means we are closer to actually living in the place, and not just visiting it daily as if it were a sick parent in the hospital. At this point, I just hope we live there by the winter holidays.



I've been meeting with spray foam insulation contractors. That's about as exciting as it sounds. We talk R values and closed cell versus open cell foam. The windows have been delivered, and are awaiting installation, the front and back door will soon follow (none too soon since the latest work site drama involves a broken key in a really old lock, and the installation of a hasp and padlock to secure the place).

I've been doing a lot of number crunching. The budget is finite, you see, and I obsess over every dollar that we spend. I sometimes try to think about finishes, but I just can't. It's too soon. Maybe when the drywall is finally up. I do my best work at the last minute.