Sick is the only way to describe how I feel now whenever I head into Toronto via Kingston Rd. in Scarborough. I know this stretch of road pretty well, having traveled along it countless times when I was much younger, on my way to and from dancing classes.

The red bungalow you see in this photo spoke to me even then—long before I knew or cared about architectural styles and craftsman design. It was just my favourite house, and someday when I was bigger I was going to live in a house just like it.
That was back in the ‘70s, when this home was on the outer perimeter of the suburb of Scarborough. At that time, its neighbouring properties were other homes, all with similarly large lots of almost an acre. But this one was special—its style was quite different from all the others. I thought it looked like a giant gingerbread house, a chalet in Switzerland, or somewhere Goldilocks might have lived if fairy tales were real. The gardens were lush, and in those days there was a forest of mature pines behind this stretch of suburbia.

In 2001, my husband and I decided to search for a new home, and were already fans of the arts and crafts movement. John, who commutes to the city daily, kept telling me about this gorgeous bungalow that was for sale, and borrowed my camera one day to take photos—even though we had no intention of moving closer to Toronto. I laughed when I saw the pictures, since I knew this home well. Priced at over a million dollars, there was no way we could even entertain thoughts of owning it—but we wondered who would buy it, since that stretch of road was now a wasteland of deteriorating strip malls, gas stations and used car lots, and every other single-family dwelling that once stood nearby was razed long ago.

The charming red house was eventually purchased by a developer and rented out to a tenant, and thus began its quick descent into the annals of bungalow perversion.

Ironically, its first and last incarnation post-sale was as a religious temple…a religion whose followers were definitely guilty of having God-awful taste in decorating. What they did to the exterior of this house is deeply…sinful.
Believe it or not, now that the house is abandoned once again, it actually looks much better than it did a year ago – the tacky plastic devotional statues, religious posters and garishly-coloured signage which cluttered the property are gone—as is a great deal of garbage.

I took these photos on Tuesday as we drove by on our way to Niagara Falls (via Toronto). Honestly, I felt like I shouldn’t even be photographing this building in its present state. It seemed pitiful and almost shameful, and I wonder if that’s what taking a photo of a victim of abuse or tragedy must be like for the photographer. You can document the injustice, but in doing so, how can you not help but feel like you’ve just violated them further?

I suppose the end is truly near for my beloved red bungalow. She was unique – a house that was once one of the most admired and well-tended in the neighbourhood. The home of my dreams.
Yet, even in her ravaged state she stands defiant—those strong, graceful lines softening her vulgar makeup…she’s still beautiful in her last hours.

technorati tags: houseblog, remuddling, craftsman+bungalow, home+renovation+nightmares

Let me tell you that in the days following that first episode I spent a lot of time on my roof, actually trying to make it leak again—since the ceiling was already toasted. After combing every inch of the roof and ascertaining that there was absolutely nothing to suggest the water was entering through the membrane, we focused on the drain—quickly pouring buckets of water down it to try to simulate a deluge…and…nothing. We tried pouring buckets of water on the seams around the drain, thinking there must be a weakness somewhere. Not a drop.
We decided to wait for the next significant rainfall…and went through several with the ceiling remaining dry as a bone. So, despite numerous attempts to get the ceiling to show more evidence of water it seemed we’d hit a brick wall…

But of course, you all know we didn’t:

THIS is what we found after I hastily scrawled my last post over a month ago:

Had we continued with a few more buckets down the drain a couple of weeks earlier, we might have found the weakness sooner. The drain was pretty much detached from the pipe. What’s missing in this picture is the plastic bag (?) that was wrapped around the point where the drain attached to the pipe. We also discovered that there was no strapping to attach the pipe to the plywood above—it was just floating in space, waiting to fail.

Since we were in demo mode, we decided to take down all of the ceiling drywall out towards the outside wall, where we knew there was once another roof drain. A roofing company that had worked on this part of the roof a few years back—right after we’d bought the house—had ‘de-commissioned’ the drain, explaining it wasn’t necessary to have two of them.
There are no sufficient expletives to convey what my feelings were towards this particular roofing firm when I stuck my head up into the ceiling with my camera to take a shot of this fine piece of workmanship:

Not only did these *#@%!s steal the drain that was located here, they didn’t even bother to patch the resulting hole with plywood before putting the membrane on top! That we didn’t put our foot through this area while we were up there examining the roof was Fate’s one small consideration in our favour. I did manage to shove my hand into the open end of the pipe to confirm that…yes, they left that open.

The good news is that the problem’s now solved—and we’ve had some very heavy weather over the past month and a half to put us at ease. The downside was that in trying to track down that leak problem prior to the ‘final assault’, we ripped apart some other areas of the house, which created additional projects we’ve been tackling this summer with every spare minute of time and money.

Tomorrow is my annual 25th birthday, and I asked my husband not to buy me a gift this year (like he could afford one, anyway!). Instead, we are pooling our resources and taking our daughter to Niagara Falls for a night at the Great Wolf Lodge. I think we owe it to her, since we’ve frittered away most of the summer on home improvements. We’ve never taken a vacation before, and to tell you the truth, I’m looking forward to getting away from this house—even if it’s for only a day!

technorati tags: houseblog, DIY, renovation

If you’re puzzled as to why I haven’t posted lately, you need only look to the skies and the answer will become perfectly clear…kind of like gentle drops of rain falling from the sky upon your brow…
...your floor

I hate rain. I hate my house. I really hate my roof. And let me just say that the timing is impeccable once again, since I have yet to enjoy a long weekend since I moved into this God-forsaken place. I’ll bet it’ll be real easy to get help over the holidays.

I’ve sunk so much money into this problem over the past month that the urge to just strike a match to this place is almost overwhelming.
But I’m sure the house is far too wet for that to be effective, and my daughter probably shouldn’t see her mommy dancing around a blazing house laughing hysterically until the nice men take her away.

I could say a few choice words right now…but it would just be hopeless. You all know what those words are anyway…

I better go and empty the buckets…and I really need to pee again.

technorati tags: houseblog, DIY, hopeless+renovation+attempts

What I need right now is some serious leakage protection…like a Really, Really, Really-Maxi Maxi Pad. Big enough to sop up the entire sky on those ‘heavy days’.

Believe me, PMS has nothing on what I’m feeling now. My roof is leaking. There is a bucket on my poor mother-in-law’s bed (as well as in three other places). I have slit the ceiling in her bedsitting room in several spots with an xacto-blade so the water would run out instead of making huge bubbles in the drywall. My husband is going to kill me when he gets home from work.
Nine years and two days of marriage—will this leak spell the end for us?

Oh, and it gets even better. I’ve been using a turkey baster to suction the water off the roof.

Now, before you spit out your drink laughing hysterically, let me just say that I had to quickly improvise, and son-of-a-gun, it actually seems to work pretty good, because the water is too shallow for a cup to be of any use up there.

And I’m not using just any old turkey baster—this is my special Mackie turkey baster, which I picked up at a NAMM Convention in Anaheim about 10 or so years ago. Mackie is a company that makes mixing boards and other pro audio gear.
Usually, trade show swag is useless. But not today…

The guys who are working on our patio are going to have some good stories when they get home tonight—telling their friends all about the crazy lady on her roof with a turkey baster.
Actually, they were probably feeling a bit of pity for me as I ranted about the yard, screaming repetitive expletives and raving on about how it figures this would happen on a long weekend…
...and how it figures that it would be right when we’ve parted with any extra money we might have had to get it fixed…
... and how it figures it waited until the @#$%^ oak floor was in before unleashing its fury upon me.
One of them said they should take a picture (of me on the roof), and since I haven’t posted any photos of myself here yet, I let him have my camera. Here’s me with my trusty turkey baster:

technorati tags: houseblog, DIY, roofing, leaking+roof, desperate+housewife

It’s a mucky job, but I am liking the idea of no more sand coming into the house. Yes, most people would have opted to finish siding the place first, but the weather’s still too cold, rainy and damp for painting shingles.

”

I’m heading back outside—there’s O-pipe to deal with (drainage), lots more brick to lay (there’s a bit of a retaining wall happening to deal with a yard that slopes upwards from the back of the house), and later there will be muddy laundry and probably a tub to clean.

Oh…friggin’ great…Martha just informed me her ceiling is leaking. Again. Gotta go.

This is shaping up to be a fine long weekend!

technorati tags: houseblog, DIY, landscaping, futility

My mother was a wonderful gardener, and especially adored tulips. In 1997, the year I was married, she began giving me an assortment of her favourite tulip bulbs to plant in my garden each fall.

When spring comes, their magnificence astounds me and I want to drown in them, for their beauty is so exquisite and fleeting…as ephemeral as the gift from my mother was, for I only received this annual present three times.

Even though mom passed away in the fall of 2000, she manages to find a way to visit me every Mother’s Day.

With the exception of the first photo (taken on Monday), all of these pictures were taken in my garden around dinnertime on Wednesday.

The first tulips mom ever gave me were ‘Blushing Beauty’—a spectacular pale yellow tulip with blush pink veining on 30” stems. Like most of my bulbs, these are in their third garden—having moved with me twice now—and it’s the first time since we’ve lived in this house that the rabbits didn’t get them (thank you, neighbours who now have dogs).

Seeing them in bloom is particularly satisfying; at my wedding I carried a simple bouquet of just these tulips, with sheer green organza ribbon wrapped around their incredibly long stems.

I love that moment just before a tulip unfurls. I think it’s when the flower is at its most beautiful, and parrot tulips (like the ones above) really have a way of capturing it best, don’t you think? They have this fantastic, almost surreal look about them.

Happy Mother’s Day, everyone.
And thanks, mom, for the most awesome gift ever.

technorati tags: houseblog, DIY, gardening, home+renovation

To honour Kevin, students planted a mighty oak tree, which they dedicated to his memory. The quiet, simple celebration was marked by poetry readings from Kevin’s classmates and teacher, and a musical tribute by the school choir.

The choir sang Leonard Cohen’s ‘Hallelujah’, which I found an unexpected, yet perfect choice of material…and I discovered how difficult it is to focus a camera while you are crying.

_{Live thy Life,
Young and old,
Like yon oak,
Bright in spring,
Living gold;}

Summer-rich
Then; and then
Autumn-changed,
Soberer hued
Gold again.

All his leaves
Fall’n at length,
Look, he stands,
Trunk and bough,
Naked strength.

“The Oak”, by Alfred Lord Tennyson

We’ve had welcome discoveries after removing the hedges, like two really lovely peonies that are both thriving now, but mostly, we’ve been met with quackgrass and weeds. Lots of them—and two in particular that I have now made it my mission in life to thoroughly eradicate from my yard.

It’s not that these weeds are new to us, it’s just that they are relentless. And we gave them carte blanche to multiply faster than rabbits. They are both of the creeping variety, so they send out runners and show up wherever they bloody well please. In abundance.

The first unwelcome weed is commonly known as Creeping Buttercup (Ranunculus repens). I have been digging this scourge out of my garden beds for years, and now I have a battlefield of them.
The second seems to be some inbred cousin of Creeping Charlie that we have named Creeping Crap (Crapperrenialus vulgaris). This one’s easier to remove from the garden beds, but is completely taking over my lawn.

So, pitchforks in hand, we are attacking the Back 40 over the next couple of weekends. Our goal is to completely remove every weed and blade of grass. Then, we’re going to cover the bare ground with landscape fabric and hope to heck we never have a repeat performance of this magnitude. Just today, we have about 20 bags of yard waste. And we’re nowhere near being done.
We’ll probably lay a brick path down the centre of this area once we get the growth under control, so I can cultivate the existing garden bed from both sides. What will become of the remaining ground is still up in the air, but I think there’s enough space for both of us to be buried back there.

technorati tags: houseblog, garden, noxious+weeds, renovation

The Kitchen Triangle gives me a headache every time I step into it. I hate the cupboards, the knobs, the vinyleum (what little is left of it), the countertops, the powder blue paint that someone saw fit to paint the door trim with, the abysmal backplash tiles and the fact it’s cramped and has no window…I could go on, but I’ll spare you.

It’s kind of our last frontier in terms of renovating – lots of great ideas, but no money to execute them. That and the disruption kitchen renos place on your family life have made us gun-shy about taking any major steps in the area where our appliances and inherited cupboards reside.

I like to think we’re just honing our skills for the day when we can afford to really go all out on the kitchen…but I’m probably being delusional. We’ll be doing a band-aid renovation in this area, and I must say we’ve been taking our sweet time about it.

But now, when I feel hopeless about our progress in this room, at least I can look up and see a light at the end of the tunnel.

Since we didn’t really have a better place to store it, we went ahead and installed the light we purchased at The Salvage Shop last Saturday. It looks better than the pigtail that was hanging there before, and definitely brightens up the room (and me).

technorati tags: houseblog, home+renovation, DIY, vintage+lighting, salvage

Reading M&C’s post made me laugh because I’ve been there. Actually, I’m still there—with only a gazillion shingles left to stain.

Like my houseblogger comrades, I figured I could purchase better quality shingles and stain them myself with the same brand used for the pre-finished shingles. Well, two summers and several snapped clothes lines later, it seems my calculations were a bit off. Or at least I was when I hatched this plan.

What you see in the photo (taken last year, I might add) is just a tinted primer coat—applied with a brush on all sides, as the consistency of this solid stain makes for truly wasteful dipping. We’re using Cabot Solid Color stain, which is a premium product used by many wood siding manufacturers like Maibec, and there’s no way I’ll be letting so much as a drop hit the ground. The colour I’ve chosen is Spanish Moss, which is quite dark and will require two coats for coverage (after the primer).

I’m on intimate terms with my shingles now, having spent so much quality time with them, but we’re having serious relationship problems.

My shingles are kind of like that boyfriend who moved into your place without you actually realizing what was happening—until it suddenly dawned on you that every time you turned around, you were tripping over a smelly sports equipment bag or tacky piece of rock memorabilia…or meeting the bottom of your toilet bowl quite unexpectedly in the middle of the night.
But now you were in too deep—he was firmly rooted in your place, and not going anywhere anytime soon.

Just like the boxes of shingles in my garage are not going anywhere soon…until I get motivated to complete what has been the most mind-numbingly dull job I’ve tackled recently.

It’s like, how much more boring could this be?
And the answer is none. None more boring.

technorati tags: houseblog, home+renovation, house+exterior, spinal+tap