Stay of Execution

Note To Self: Joint Compound Dries Fast

I taped the drywall in my bathroom today.  Everyone had been shaking their heads and saying, dubiously, "Taping is kind of... an art," and as a result I was very intimidated to try it.  But it's not so bad, really.  That probably has to do with my expectations for the quality of the result, which are low, and my trepidation, which was extremely high.  But it looks fine, and it seems possible to fix the spots that don't look so great with another little layer of joint compound. 

For those who don't know, joint compound comes in a big tub, and it's this goopy white stuff that's about the consistency of toothpaste.  You can sort of smear it around on the walls, put some tape into it, and make a flat surface by going over the whole mess with a flat scraper.  You end up with a lot of joint compound on yourself, but in the process you can fill in little holes or dents or seams and when you paint over the whole thing it just looks flat and smooth.  That's what I'll be doing later this afternoon.  (I've decided to ignore my home depot book that says to let the junk dry overnight.  That strikes me as silly.)

About Dreaming, And Falling Short

My pal Turboglacier has a great post today about how he is not sailing around the world right now.

I don't have a lot to add to the particular melancholy / wisdom of his post.  But one thing I get to see pretty clearly in my job as a coach of college students is what different people we are when we are young.  My college students are different from me in some significant ways.  This is not news to anyone who has been 22.  But we forget, if we don't sit side by side with young people, the ways that we change.  My ideas about time, and my ideas about money, my willingness to compromise, my sense of what I can and can't accomplish, all of these things are very different than they once were, and different from the way my college students see the world.  I'm not sure if getting older is a gift or a loss.  Probably both.  I don't know if I see the world more clearly or less, with the accumulation of these extra 10 years of defeats and life lessons and disappointments and unexpected gifts. 

I've been thinking about my own goals, lately, and my own expectations about life.  I'm dating a man who lives 800 miles away, so I've been thinking about my attachment to this place, and to what extent it has governed me so far.  What would life be like if I left Maine?  Who would I be if I lived away from the coast?  I've been thinking about sailing, of course, and how I want to start doing some blue water passagemaking.  It's never interested me before but I'm ready, now, to learn a lot more about bigger boats, bigger seas, longer distances. 

Some Thoughts About Tools, and Sailing

I'm afraid it's the time of year when you won't get real posts (is there ever a time when you do?).  Instead you'll get fragment posts, half-formed thoughts that are rustling around in my head.

I have never been a singlehanded sailor.  I like sharing the experience with one or two other people.  Growing up I had a hand-me-down Laser.  I sailed it when I was a teenager.  It was fun.  It was a little too big for me, and this was back in the D-A-Y before the new rigging for the boom vang and cunningham and outhaul.  So it was always a bit of a pain in the butt to rig the Laser, and when I was sailing it it was a long stretch and required tugging a little too hard to make any adjustments.  I always felt a little bit weak, and a little bit short, and a little bit light, to be sailing the boat.  Whatever, I was 14 or 15.  It was more of a guys' boat anyway, especially in the breeze.  And when I moved on to college I got into two-person dinghies again and I liked those.

But partway through college I tried sailing a Europe dinghy.  A Laser is really an ideal boat for someone who weighs 165-170, and is 6 foot 1 or 6 foot 2.  A Europe dinghy is made for someone who's about 5'6, weighing 135 or 140.  It was remarkable to get on the Europe and discover how it feels to be in a boat that fits.  The controls were right within reach, and I could pull them without fighting.  The hull responded to my body movements.  It felt like a little pony.  It was an entirely different sensation to being on a Laser.  It felt like it fit me.  It was exciting. 

Maybe I would like singlehanded sailing if I sailed Europes.  (I won't, though, because without the Olympic designation I don't think it will flourish here as a class.)  I've never sailed a Laser Radial but because it uses the standard Laser hull I am not optimistic that it would feel as comfortable and responsive and light for me as a Europe did.  I wonder if it's good or bad for women's sailing that the singlehanded Olympic boat is the Radial.  Probably good, on balance, although I have mixed opinions.
Anyway.  I thought about all of this when I was working on my bathroom.  The tools feel like they're built for men, the way the Laser is.  The drill is just a little bit too big for my hand -- not so much that I can't use it, but enough that I get tired of holding it.  I feel clumsy, and uncomfortable.  Things are a little bit too heavy, a little bit too big, a little bit off.  I thought about how that contributes to an insidious feeling I have that home repair, working with tools, is Not For Me.  I was driving today and passed a handyman truck.  The handyman service is called "Rent-A-Husband."  There's a pervasive gender thing about doing home repair that gets in my way, just like the tools that don't quite fit.  Chivalry's not dead.  It's at the dump, and Home Depot.  Men who know how to do things seem pleased to help women (well, me) who don't.  It's all part of this tapestry that makes me feel a little bit off, clumsy, like I'm in a world where I don't belong.  I liked learning how to rip apart my walls and use my drill.  I feel proud of myself.  I'm looking forward to borrowing an orbital sander and prepping my walls, painting them, and then maybe ripping up the linoleum.  It feels like learning to sail my old Laser did, something satisfying, and fun, that I could do alongside the boys.  But what I want to find is something like a Europe dinghy for tools.  I would like tools that fit my hands, and that are comfortable to hold.  I would like to be able to shop at the store without feeling like a stranger in a strange land, like an outcast woman who has no husband to take care of her. 

Victory!

I have a working shower!

It looks beautiful.  Well, it looks barely adequate, probably, to a trained eye.  But to me it looks beautiful, and makes me swell up with pride (except that one spot, that I really could have gotten a little straighter, that is destined to drive me bonkers for as long as I own the house). 

Here's what I learned to do:
use a crowbar
use a chisel
use a drill (with regular bit, drywall bit, and hole saw!)
measure and cut drywall
shim
install drywall
caulk

I covet a shop vac.  It was my wedding gift to Neighbor and 517, which I promptly borrowed, and I really love it.  An incentive to get married, right there. 

I had lots of help but I also did lots by myself.  I learned a ton, and I gained a bunch of confidence.  I was telling Mr. NBT last night that it seems a little bit like childbirth -- now that it's over, I forget how painful and miserable it was while I was doing it, how it broke my spirit.  Now I'm interested in pulling up the linoleum to see what's under there.  And of course I still need to sand down the walls and paint the bathroom, but now I'm interested in tackling the trim, too, because it's going to seem so shabby compared to the rest of the place.  I can see how you can get going and never stop.   

My New Least Favorite Word

My new least favorite word is "shim."  I spent five hours last night, until past midnight, "shimming" the wall studs so that we could hang sheetrock.  The sheetrock is not yet hung.  Why does everything take so long?  Why is it so dusty and disgusting?  Why do I have no aptitude at all for this?  Why can't I be more patient, and unflappable? 

I'm tired and I feel defeated by my bathroom.  Today I have to run a regatta, so I'll be on the water all day.  Might be able to work a few hours tonight.  I'm determined to get this sheetrock up.  My house is a construction zone. 

My advice: do not buy a house alone.  Don't do it.  If it's brand new construction, and you have lots and lots of money, perhaps it makes sense.  Otherwise, there's nothing wrong with renting. 

Note To Self: A Working Shower Is Nice

It's a bit of a bummer not to have a working shower.  I went to Home Depot the other day but I can't load sheetrock by myself, and even if I could load it I can't unload it.  And I'm not sure how I'm going to hang it.  Today Turboglacier is going to help me get the materials.  I'll figure out how to install it after I get it home.  I've got sailing coach obligations every day except Monday, so Monday is when this shower gets built. 

Crowbar Girl

I rocked the crowbar, the hammer, the chisel, and the respirator yesterday.  I shed the gloves, because I couldn't work as well with my hands with them on.  Occasionally I would try to shed the respirator but then a pesky little cough would start bothering me.  Tearing down sheetrock and tile is dusty work.  There was also some fearsome mold growing back there.  No longer.  I attacked it with germicidal, serious strength Clorox and the area around the shower is sanitary enough for a hospital. 

517 came over yesterday afternoon with a crowbar and joined me for a couple of hours.  We discovered a sheetrocked-over door space, which I think was once the entrance to the house, before the addition with the kitchen and bathroom was added on.  Next to that we're down to the plaster and lath old wall materials, and the studs on which the sheetrock and tile used to be.  Next step: new sheetrock, and fiberglass wall cover. 

Today I'm on campus until about 10PM, so I won't make progress today.  But tomorrow, I'm very hopeful that I can start rebuilding. 

There's something wonderfully satisfying about physical labor.  I got as filthy as I have ever been in my life, and I inhaled some nasty substances.  I repeatedly banged myself in the left hand with the hammer and dropped tiles on the same tender spot on my left foot.  My shoulders and arms ached and I got three or four cuts from sharp tile pieces.  But I look at the bathroom and feel a swell of pride.  I understand a little better how my house is put together.  It's not so mysterious. 

Goal: Sail Every Day in August

I set myself a secret little challenge on July 31st: to sail every single day in August.  I haven't been able to do it (couldn't sail Friday -- no wind, or yesterday -- no time) but I modified it instead to: go on a boat every single day in August.  So far, so good. 

I think it explains why I'm in a much better mood.  I'm still lonely and wistful, longing for partnership.  I am still out of balance.  I still need to sort out how to earn enough money and how to manage all the physical details of maintaining an old house, a boat, and a car that all need attention. I still need to push my writing projects along in a more directed, focused, and commercially viable way. I still feel sometimes like my reach exceeds my grasp. I still have fragile moments when I feel like I'm not living up to what I wish to be in so many ways.  And yet, I feel good, generally.  I'm fumbling my way through all these brambles and it's hard work and sometimes it stings, but I feel kind of cheerful about it.  That probably doesn't make any sense at all but there you go.  And I think it's because of the time I'm spending on boats.

Last night I realized I hadn't been on a boat yet that day.  I didn't have very long; I had to feed my dog and then meet with Neighbor and 517 to talk about the ceremony for their wedding (I'm officiating, in 10 days, in case you'd lost track.  Yikes!).  I was tired and stressed out.  I debated with myself whether it was worth taking a treck out to the yacht club and jumping on the launch just to stick to a silly little goal. 

And you know what?  It was.  The water was blue and the sky a kind of velvety lavender-pink.  The launch driver was just getting ready to fire the shotgun and take the flag down when I arrived.  I waited with him, joking and looking out at the boats in the anchorage and smelling the salty breeze.  And I sat on the bow of the launch as we went out and picked up the J/24 racers who had finished for the evening.  The launch filled up with friends, who asked me about my mast and complimented me on the article I wrote in a current issue of a sailing magazine and handed me a beer.  And as the night turned blue-purple, someone pointed at the huge orange moon peeking over Clapboard Island and I felt both comfort and wonder.

On a boat every day: this makes me feel good. 

Boat Update

Here's a boat update:

We've borrowed a mast from my dad, who's not using his boat this year, and stepped it.  We've run most of the rigging, although a few things have us scratching our heads.  Tonight before the race we'll tune the rig and try the main halyard for the first time. 

The Mast Fund has been an unexpected success.  23 of you have contributed, and the total is $1964.68.  (Typepad/Paypal appear to take an 8% cut, which makes those numbers look a little wonky.  I think what you guys actually pledged comes out to $2010.)  There was one anonymous donation that was exceptionally generous, and I actually got nervous and tearful when I saw it, and tried to figure out how to give it back.  To you, I say, wow.  I wish you could see my face.  I wish I knew who you are, except partly I love not knowing.  It feels a little bit like magic, this way.  And to all of you, I say, thank you.  I can sit here quivery and get all teary at this sense of support from so many people I've not yet met.  It's a powerful kind of gratitude you've inspired in me.  I don't have the vocabulary to write about it, really, which is why I've been speechless about it for a few days. 

And my cup runneth over, because amazingly, the insurance company is going to send us a check for the mast, less our $250 deductible.  So we can replace the mast, and if we are lucky enough to find a used mast that could work, we might have money left over to make a bunch of other necessary repairs.  Ruby and I sat on the boat last night in the gathering darkness, running lines and halyards and making a list of all the things we should repair/replace. 

If it's okay with those of you who donated, I'd like to use those funds for boat and house repairs, if insurance money fully covers the mast.  If that's not okay, please let me know -- I can give the money back.  I don't want anyone to think that I solicited money for false pretenses or anything like that. 

The boat repair list that Ruby and I made last night:   

Master List

1) Garage: why does door open and close on its own, stopping at random intervals?
    How do I get the door in the right place on the track so it stops when it hits the ground, and doesn't reverse direction and open up when I've tried to close it?
    What is eating the wood above the door, and how do I get rid of it?
     How can I get the person-size door on the side to close tightly, to keep squirrels from getting into the trash?
    Clean it / organize it.
    Stand or hook for hose
    Clean out all the yuck from under the back porch

2) Bathroom -- yikes
    Remove tile around tub
    Bleach to kill mold
    Remove drywall behind tile
    Replace drywall and "blueboard"
    If any studs have been damaged, replace them.
    Install access panel from kitchen?
    Install fiberglass liner
    Take down cabinet
    Remove wallpaper
    Choose paint color
    Scrape walls
    Paint 
    Pick up linoleum floor and tile instead? (only if necess.)
    Figure out a better storage solution
    Mixing valve -- can shower water be hotter?
    What's going on with the drain valve?
    Fix leaky seal in toilet tank -- how to get the old one out??

3) Dining room:
    Scrape and paint area of chipping paint.
    Pull up linoleum??  (Someday)

4) Stairway / hall
    Scrape chipping paint.
    Spackle that spot
    Repaint

5) Front porch:
    Fight that agressive viney plant that is taking over.
    Replace mailbox with something big enough to actually hold the mail.

6) Yard:
    Measure perimeter of whole yard, side yard.
    Investigate fence options -- cost, time, can I do it myself?
    What would it take to put stairs off the other side of the back porch so I could let Lila out into an enclosed back yard to pee in the wintertime?
    Cut back roses and other things in side garden
    Remove giant brush pile in back corner
    Get C to move his boat, and 517 to move his giant pile of bricks
    Finish perennial garden on side of house
    Weed and clip and trim around perimeters
    Could I get rid of bamboo forest in back? 
    Move those rocks
    Fill holes
    Get rid of all those cans of oil and other crap that's been sitting behind the garage for years.    
    Remove rhubarb and asparagus and reclaim those patches for yard space.
    Install some birdfeeders, and plants to encourage birds.
    Plant lilacs at border with ugly apt. building.
    Make a compost pile or place

7) Kitchen
    Get screen replaced for back door
    Install new garbage disposal
    scrub walls

8) Basement
    Clean, purge, organize

9) Whole house
    New windows
    Scrape and repaint windowsills and trim
    What critter is living in the eaves over the kitchen?  How can I get rid of it?
    Should I be worrying about my ceilings?