Escorting the Russian Bears

Some of you have followed with great interest the saga of our household improvements over the past nine months. January's delivery of a new refrigerator had a sequel with today's delivery. This morning, I was greeted by a pair of sleek and stout Russian delivery boys who installed my sleek and stout new range. It replaces the wretched little Crosley that those cheapo developers left me when I bought this place 12 years ago.

These Russian dudes were probably in diapers when the Berlin Wall fell and were cordial but intriguingly cocky. When I pointed them towards the kitchen, the lead delivery guy raised his eye brows and asked, "Could you escort me there?" I was tempted to ask him to clutch his bear claw at my elbow, but I thought that might be pushing my luck. When I saw his pushing the range forward repeatedly at his waist while grunting in Russian, I had to leave the room.

It took barely 10 minutes to be all set up, and I hope some of my culinary-inclined blogger friends might volunteer to come teach me all the wondrous potential of this new tool.

Meanwhile, Bow is trying to wrap her mind around the accompanying miniature version of the kitchen.

We're Heading Home

Bow and I have been here for the past 16 hours as we've been without an operating bathroom as the new sink and tile are installed. If all goes according to plan, we'll have everything back "on line" by lunch time.

Good-bye Pupusas, Hello Borscht & Vodka

The Salvadoran electricians are about finished, having installed the
last light above, finally giving much needed illumination for the back garden should Bow and I decide to go out for a little midnight air.
Now the Russian plumbers are here for the bathroom redo, and it will look like the above shot for the next few days. And then we will have to negotiate with the tile man, and the wall man and...

I don't plan to get too spunky since these guys sort of look like a Moscow version of The Sopranos or Goodfellows. They promise it will look just like the shot on the right when they're finished.

JunkThief Has Moved

Yesterday the very expensive and surly plumbers completed an important project -- taking out a useless utility sink where the dishwasher and washer upstairs have backed up into for the past couple of years. Problem solved, sink gone, and that prime piece garden view real estate is now my second office here at the Junkplex. Yes, I know that sounds a bit extravagant, but I think it's important to keep my paid work space and play work space separate since I use both under the same roof.

Miss Millie dropped in as you can see, to inaugurate this new space and give it her blessing. I was really pleased to get the green hipster chair on hip Valencia Street at the hip interior store Therapy. I was honored that the cute hipster young women who waited on me took such an interest in wanting to know where I would use the chair. They probably thought I was buying it for my grandson's dorm room.
And most amusing is that instead of just walking in from the dining room, Bow enjoys watching me from across the back terrace. I think she's trying to figure out if I am surfing some inappropriate websites.

The Carnival of Light

It's been a case of The Electricians, The Plumbers and The Carpenters the past 24 hours. No, that's not the porn video the octo-mommy has been asked to star in but the reality here at the Junkplex.

Much as I don't like to make generalizations, the three professions have lived up to my experience with their peers in this city. The plumber could pass for a wrestler from northern Mexico, and his assistant is a goth band wannabe. He's surly, fussy, overpriced, tracks in mud, is prone to say "That's not gonna be an easy job, and it's gonna cost you," and breaks things.

The carpenter is a chubby, pleasant, kind of homely, probably hard drinking Irish guy with enormous hands, the heart of a poet, and prone to quote Velvet Underground lyrics. He knows and speaks City of SF D.B.I. code by heart. He wants to do a good job and save me money.

The Salvadorean electricians have compact soccer player bodies, have a sweet sense of humor, are respectful, efficient, speedy, discovered my computer and furnace were on the same circuit and fixed it for free, cover everything meticulously with plastic before starting any job and clean up and put back in place everything and remove all their tools at the end of the day, leaving the room looking like they'd never stepped foot in it. I'm really sad they are moving on from my unit to the rest of the building tomorrow. I'll miss little Edwin and Jorge. (Sob.)

All of this renovation has brought up stories about this three storied and much storied building constructed in 1885. I'd love to see what it was like until 1917 as a single family, 7,000 square foot home. It had a rough time from the 1950s onward. Just before I moved in back in 1998, it had been one of the most notorious addresses in San Francisco and home of the leading crack dealer. A crazy woman lived in my building with a dozen or so huge dogs that she slept with in the back yard in the summer and never picked up after them.

I learned today that the man holding the pit bull terrier in a mural down the block was once a resident here, and now I am anxious to learn his story. Maybe Bow and I will be on a mural some day.

When I moved in, my place had been stripped of every Victorian detail stripped, half of the place covered in the infamous BART carpet that loyal readers know was removed earlier this winter. All the lighting fixtures looked like what you'd see in an Econolodge -- at best -- and probably none cost more than five dollars. The overhead light had conduit from the switch box mounted on the wall -- not recessed and flushed with the wall. The worst offender was the hall light -- one you turned on by pulling a chain. That has been replaced with the new track lighting to accent my glorious objet du junque. All overhead fixtures have been replaced with the ones featured.

A big challenge with the overheads is that most of them have gas lines leading into them. Some of my friends can't wrap their heads around that there were once gas lights in my home. A near moment of panic hit when the electricians encountered on of the lines and asked me to go down to the basement to ask the plumbers if they could check the gas line. "Duh, I don't do that kinda work. Tell them dudes up there to be careful in case it's an uncapped line." Seconds later I gasped as I saw Edwin unscrewing one of the lines, his eyes widening as he smelled gas and quickly plugged it back up. I was less concerned about the house than it exploding in his beautiful face. All was well, and now they have moved on.

Now on to carpentry and having my ugly bathroom sink replaced with a sleek pedestal sink which, as the plumber so aptly put "is gonna cost ya."

Walking into the Light

I know you've not been able to sleep without another update on the conversion of the Junplex. Here's one of the fixtures -- in the dining room -- that went in today. Discuss among yourselves.
The carpenter came by this afternoon to start working on his bid, and the plumbers arrive tomorrow at 8. The Carpenter, The Plumber and The Electrician. Isn't that the film script the porn producers offered the octo-mommy?

What We're Seeing at the Junkplex

My Salvadorean electricians arrived bright and early today to begin two weeks' work of adding outlets, putting in new fixtures, dimmers, bringing some past work up to code and installing some outdoor lighting as one of the final stages of the condo conversion of the Junkplex. This place is of an old enough vintage that most overhead lights are on top of what once were gas lamps. So that's always an issue.

Bow has been calm but not thrilled to be quartered off with me in the back part of the flat so she doesn't interfere with the workers. She feels this is their loss since she won't be able to share her encyclopedic knowledge of electrical and wiring codes and matrixes.

Having an Operating Refrigerator Again Is a Very Good Thing

I know that many of you have followed this fascinating saga that began almost a month ago, involved two service people and ended with a complete replacement of the old unit that I loved about as much that hideous BART carpet that headed out the door this week.

Much as I want to embrace repair and restore wherever possible, recycle and replace were the right options today. I almost became overcome with frenzy as I went to Whole Foods and Rainbow Market this afternoon knowing that I did not have to worry about things melting or spoiling come morning. Food, glorious food.

To Vet or Not Vette?

Remember back last summer when the one word the Republicans were using more than maverick and McCain's "my friends" was vetting? All that talk about needing to head up to Alaska to properly complete the vetting process on Sarah Palin brought up images of them checking her hooves, teeth and rabies vaccination records.

I've been doing some vetting of my own this week as I've been in an even worse holding pattern on my repair and service projects. The plumber just arrived 20 minutes late. Not a huge issue. The trash pick up guys who were to arrive between 10 and noon called to say they might make it a little before 1 p.m. It's now 1:05 p.m.

And remember the guy working on the refrigerator who started at the first of the month. After three and a half weeks of telling me that the refrigerant that he needed for the repair would arrive "in the next couple of days", I gave him a deadline of noon today to get back to me to confirm he was going to do the job or I was going with another firm. I fully vetted the new firm and they have five star ratings from three different independent sources. Ten minutes after my deadline of noon and finalizing my appointment with repairman number two, the first repair guy's number showed up on my cell phone and I didn't pick up, and he didn't leave a voice mail. So he's been vetted (or veted) out like a tick removed from a horse's rear.

I had an uncle who was a big Vette man. He said that was a great way for attracting chicks. Or did he mean ticks?

Finished!

Corinthian Marble Update

Here is where things stand at 6:54 p.m. PST. All tiles have been cut and sized for this, the main leg of the hall. I plan to glue and roll them before retiring for the night. Tomorrow I hope to finish up the last two legs by sundown in order to have the hall complete for the first official day of the Obama Era.
This, to me, is a fitting tribute to the final day of the Bush Era. Dirty, smelling of cat piss, stained, faded, worn and soon to be heading out the door. Now I need to decide whether to call the Junk General or College Hunks Hauling Junk to do the final honors.

Floored by Obama

By default more than design, I have spent the past six months with Obama bringing change to the floors of the JunkPlex. I refinished the utility room as I listened to the DNC on NPR and touched up the kitchen and front sitting room as I sneered through the RNC. I redid the dining room in the wake of the November 4 victory. Now, I am finishing the "hall"/office just as Bush makes his final addresses and true change is on the horizon. The famed BART carpet will be gone as the swearing in ceremony happens. And I can let my trowel rest for a while.

Home Improvement Project Update

We're getting there. Four days to go. I'm sure you want every detail.

It's Here. It's HERE. IT'S HERE!!!!!

I'm not quite as excited as when Bow arrived, but I am thrilled that my Amtico tile arrived this afternoon, and I can spend MLK Weekend installing it and then dance on it Inauguration Day. YES I CAN!!!

That's not exactly what it will look like when finished, but it gives you an idea.

Now if that jerk finally finishes repairing my refrigerator sometime between now and 2034 I will be less cranky.
UPDATE: Over lunch, I placed a few squares to see what the finished floor will look like as you will note above. Below is the hideous carpet it's replacing that came with my flat and I've long waited to replace since 1998. I call it church basement or BART train carpet. Literally, this is exactly the carpet you see on BART trains. I'm sure the BART officer arrested in Nevada is going to claim that looking at the carpet drove him over the edge and that he was so disoriented that he pulled the trigger New Year's night.

Where We Stand with the Project

Okay, I know you have all been just dying to know where I stood with the whole hall/office space renovation project. It's involved ripping up the nasty BART/church basement project, putting in some superb beveled/European tile and putting in moulding. Sadly the the aforementioned hoity-toity tile has yet to arrive (apparently slow going weaving between those icebergs in the North Atlantic on the route from Europe to the North Pacific). It frustrates me to not be where I thought I'd be at this point (i.e., finished). However, I have finished putting the moulding which I cut carefully with my miter-box saw, covered all visible nail holes and then painted. It sounds like minor task, but it took a few days. Two and a half to be exact. In the meantime, I am still waiting on the tile, the parts to repair for my refrigerator and managed to have my car repairs completed today. In the meantime, I've spent these four days of leave reading Cavafy and Proust with Bow sleeping on my chest. Ah, the busy life of an urban sophisticate.

The Iceman Cometh -- Eventually

Having spent several hours during the past couple of days seeking the best option to have my refrigerator repaired or replaced, I was reminded why I prefer to live, if not alone, just with Bow. After waiting out the 2 to 4 p.m. window for the repairman's arrival, when he arrived at 7:30 p.m. and said that he would have to come back Monday -- between 1 and 5 p.m. -- I recalled often being put in that "I'll get back to you, sometime between tomorrow and never" attitude that wrecks both my ego and insistence on being precise.

This Joni Mitchell tune always best summed it up, and I've reached the point of thinking any amount of court and spark is not worth being put in the holding pattern.

Bow's First Blog Post: Her Human Has (Some) Talent

This is Bow. My human has finished his flooring project which I supervised by sitting in my chair. Sometimes there was too much noise, and I left the room, but mostly I slept in the chairs by the window in case I needed to be consulted. Here I am in the room with the finished floor. I agree that it looks better than the carpet with its cat smells which were interesting but not to my taste. It's a bit slick when I run and need to make a sudden stop, but at least this house has plenty of rugs. My human is not without talents, but my favorite is when he sticks a bit of Gouda cheese in a Kong that I can have fun with for hours.

Yet Another Reason to Marry Junk Thief

BEFORE: The floor of the utility room Thursday morning.AFTER: Early afternoon in the same spot. It's not pefect yet with a few knicks that will be burnished and touched up.

Did I mention that Junk Thief can also whip up a superb candle light supper? Marriage applications will be accepted through Wednesday.

Dave's Photo Challenge: Mundane

Dave's got a great photo challenge this week: Mundane. Here is my response since I've been hearing a lot about appliances having personalities this recently and have spent a lot of time with my week and a half off cleaning and doing repairs here at the JunkPlex.

Feel free to give my vacuum a name. I think it's a girl. Her last name is Hoover.

The Glories of Indirect Light

Junk Thief has never been a fan of direct sunlight and has been known to go into a coma when he is forced to be around unfiltered overhead light for any extended time. While Blanche Dubois favored her little Chinese lanterns, Junk Thief is more fond of those of the Japanese order and has been trying them out in certain parts of the Junkplex. This is the latest addition above JT's ever growing turntable shrine. The question now is whether or not this theme should be extended post-taxes on the long awaited hallway make over project that will include floor renovation (hired out), molding (by JT) and new lighting (hired out/JT). This Tokyo de San Francisco theme would give the Junkplex an aura of Sam Fuller's The House of Bamboo, and we'd just not be able to keep Bryce Digdug away.

By the way, the print on the lower left was a gift given to Junk Thief on his first visit to Vietnam in 1996, a customized block print of the return of the Mandarin scholar, a theme he saw re-enacted the night before at the Thang Long waterpuppet show. Oh, on the theme of worst names for restaurants, Thang Long us up there.