85. Dithering

We spend a lot of time dithering…

siding boards

Trying to figure out every angle before we start, so we won’t be surprised.

It never works, and we just end up with a work stoppage.

Yesterday, after a morning of spectacular dithering, I wondered to myself why we don’t discuss these problems on the way back and forth from house to house. We’ve got plenty of time; the drive is at least an hour, and that’s if all the cars and drivers are behaving. (And the cat; when the cat misbehaves we end up with a conversation stoppage…).

But then I realized that we don’t discuss these problems because they are Unforeseen. Unexpected. Unknowns.

While we were dithering
about the project
before we started,
we never thought THAT
would happen,
even though
we thought
that we had thought
of Everything
causes dithering again.

Painting of Apple Hill Cottage, ca.1973

When the cottage first became ours, it was rather like a new romance. Oh, we wandered around thinking of possibilities — how grand it would be if we could put in hardwood floors here; and maybe we could raise the roof there; and perhaps if we enclosed this part of the back porch it would make a lovely guest bedroom…
The basic plan was to bring the cottage back to the way it looked originally (as close as we could get it, at least…) That wasn’t dithering; it was dreaming, and wondering, and expanding possibilities.

But the honeymoon is over now because we have spent almost every spare moment working on this cottage. Nothing can surprise us now, and some of the charm has been lost in the reality of sweat, blood, finances, time, arguments discussions, and just plain exhaustion. It’s an old house; suddenly we have to move to plan B because the furnace blew up. Or suddenly we have to leave Plan A to fix the roof because it is leaking. Or suddenly we have to change Plan A because the new siding isn’t quite the same as the old siding… Can we just be done already and get on with life?

No? Then, let’s at least stop dithering and get on with the plan. (Uh, was that Plan A or Plan B?)

The troubles come when glitches occur in the actual plan. Sort of like life? Glitches abound. And are we going to dither; or are we ready to accept the problem, embrace the setback, and make the delay part of the plan?
peeling paint
And here is where Jesus can help. If we are trying to live life according to His plan, well then, it’s His plan — it’s not our plan. We just like to think it’s our plan and that we are in charge. And when we get too uppity about it, God will remind us. Most of the time He reminds us gently, and that’s when we are to say, “Oh, yes. God, it is yours, not mine. Forgive me for trying to take over.”

Lawn chairs in fall

Sometimes it’s a big thing; sometimes we just see through the glass darkly and we fight and kick and struggle for weeks, months, years… until the glass clears and we finally get it — the fight belongs to Him, not us. He made us and we are his. We are his people, the sheep of his pasture. (Psalm 100:3) 

We dither because we are sheep. I know, it’s not a pleasant comparison, but there it is. Picture sheep running around the gated pasture bleating in confusion. Going nowhere and running in those circles cause befuddlement, bewilderment, agitation, and demoralization. Don’t ask me how I know this… (Read Luke 15 to be reminded. I need to be reminded of this often…)

But we have a good shepherd to lead us — one who never gives up on us no matter how far we wander;

mist in the hills

one who loves each one of us not because we are good, bad, black, or white, but simply because we are his;

one who constantly cares for us if we would just allow it.
the heavens

Note to self: Dithering is believing that your own plans might be better than God’s amazing plans! Embrace the delays and know that you are being taught something important.

Note to God: “Yes, God, it is truly yours, not mine. Forgive me for trying to take over.”

IMG_2959

Amen.

84. Begone Ugly Windows

We have a new window in the mudroom.

It is not like the gorgeous original kitchen windows that we spent three months painstakingly restoring.

Restored wood windows

No, this window is a bottom-line Andersen window, on sale from Home Depot this past week for $225.

American Craftsman window from Home Depot

We have spent the last year — on and off — looking for old double hung windows with real muntins that would fit this 48″x48″ square opening. No dice. No windows either.

This is a perfect example of the drafty, ugly aluminum windows -- this one is going to be gone SOON as well.

This is a perfect example of the drafty, ugly aluminum windows — this one is going to be gone SOON as well.

The problem is that some of the windows in the cottage are original, and some were replaced in the seventies with aluminum frame windows that, uh, have zero charm. (Zero R-Value as well.) We are keeping the wood frame originals, but that leaves us with having to replace the others.

We just couldn’t spend any more time looking for old windows that we could re-do. It was time to upgrade that old aluminum window that was cracked and didn’t work. I could spend the rest of this post lamenting the loss of craftsmanship in the modern world. Why is everything affordable made from plastic vinyl? And as much as I’d like to put in expensive Pella windows that are, you know, historically appropriate? It just isn’t in the budget; we went with cheap, and on sale for even cheaper…But Energy Star Efficient! And Made in the USA.

On an unseasonably warm October Saturday, we carted the old window out to the edge of the road, where someone will most likely stop and take it for the aluminum.

We put all of our junk out here by the side of the road with a FREE sign next to it. So far everything we've put out has been taken: a ladder,  old ceiling materials, an old light, a vacuum cleaner, and even the old kitchen sink...

We put all of our junk out here by the side of the road with a FREE sign next to it. So far everything we’ve put out has been taken: a ladder, old ceiling materials, an old light, a vacuum cleaner, orange louvered doors, and even the old kitchen sink…

Alas, the perennial problem is this: What does this particular project consist of? Are we just trying to get a window in for the winter, so air won’t blow through the kitchen? Or are we going to take our time and replace the siding now, because that is in the long-range plan?

After several rounds of discussion, we decided to take the cedar shakes off and put white cove siding on the front of the mudroom. Mr. H.C. isn’t exactly happy about it; we’ve still got the kitchen AND the mudroom to finish, and here we are taking an excursion to the outside of the house.

Mr. H.C. frowning at the level.

Mr. H.C. frowning at the level. He frowns at his level quite often.

Of course, nothing about the mudroom is level or square. This photo sums up pretty well the angst that goes with putting a level on any wall or sill or floor of the cottage. It’s always a bigger job than expected — Mr. H.C. had to take off the horizontal board and cut off the studs three-quarters of an inch on one side for the window to fit in the frame.

At the end of the day, the window is in...

At the end of the day, the window is in…

But at the end of the day, the window was in; I relented and admitted that it didn’t look too bad; and the rest of the outside walls are (almost) ready for siding.

And we got to relax and enjoy the fruit of our labors for 10 minutes until it got dark...

And we got to relax and enjoy the fruit of our labors for ten minutes until it got dark…

83. The Mudroom Demolition

The mudroom has some problems. Even its name assumes trouble — Mud Room.

But let’s not sugar coat it, or white wash it; it is the entryway into our beautiful kitchen from the muddy outdoors. No just walking inside from a warm garage — this here’s the country! And for most traditional houses, the mudroom is not the main entry into the house, but guess what readers? The cottage is not the traditional house…

Mudroom, Before

This is just one short five foot wall on the left side of the entry way into the kitchen. It just about shows perfectly the hodge podge that the mudroom is…The gray shadow on the siding also showed us where the original door was.

The mudroom was originally the front porch to the cottage; when Joe and Clara renovated in the seventies, they enclosed it. But being a lowly front porch, the concrete floor is on, well, the ground — no footers, no basement, maybe some gravel, although that’s doubtful. So the concrete floor has some serious cracks. No Problemo! We just put down some rebar, pour some concrete, smear on floor leveler, and tile over it!  :-)

Joe and Clara used cedar shakes to cover the walls. This means that under the cedar was a mishmash of old siding, holes where doors used to be, holes where an air conditioner used to be, and just plain holes. On the plus side, we now have six boxes of cedar shakes just itching to be a glamorous cedar chicken coop!

Did I mention that the electric panel box is out there too? Joe ingeniously made a hidden door of cedar shakes to cover the box and all the wires, but now that we’ve taken off the shakes, there is just an ugly plywood door that isn’t acceptable for much of anything. Well, maybe for a glamorous chicken coop…

The ceiling was plastic vinyl wainscot panels that Mr. H.C. made short work of taking down. Clara put twenty dozen hooks in the ceiling and hung her baskets from the ceiling. It had a certain charm, but I was always afraid a bird or a squirrel would jump out from one of those baskets and land on my head…

The front wall under the window is a mixture of concrete block and bricks. It is the back wall of the brick planter that is out front. I planted some test flowers in it this spring, completely sure they would die and I could say, “See, nothing will grow here. It doesn’t get sun, it doesn’t get water. Let’s take it out.” And of course, the white impatiens and red coleus thrived. (We did have a wet summer…) So the planter is staying for now. Oh, and there is a chimney. It takes up one corner, and it looks like someone who didn’t know how to mortar bricks together did the mortar job. Probably my grandfather…

We have big plans for this small, narrow room: a wood stove on an elevated platform, a rocking chair, French doors that will lead you into the kitchen, and this lovely DIY combo of bench and coat rack. We already have the floor tile and the French doors; we purchased them both eons ago at Habitat for Humanity Restores. The wood stove will be coming down from our city house basement; the ceiling will be the same beadboard as in the kitchen. But first things first:

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