In the Hood

My employer, Bob Closter, gave me a bag of stuff for Christmas. A bottle of red wine, some frozen steaks of the Omaha variety, a pair of wool mittens with fold back tops that reveal fingerless gloves, and an insulated hooded sweatshirt. I don't know why, exactly, but I haven't worn a hooded sweatshirt in more than a decade if not two. Maybe it's that under normal circumstances I'm more inclined to wear a hat and that having a hood flopping around on my back, unwanted and unused, is an annoyance. My last hooded sweatshirt dates back to Holy Cross. That was almost 20 years ago, and I don't think I wore it much back then either. I don't know if Bob gave anyone else a hoodie; I haven't noticed any new-looking sweatshirts around the job. Maybe he felt bad for me. Everyone else has probably a half dozen in their arsenal against the elements. Co-worker Kurt wears two at once. Now I don't know how I survived without one. (I do remember shingling our house in Brooklin in the middle of January wearing two wool hats.) Standing on a roof when it's blowing 20 and the wind chill's below zero, the hood goes up and work begins to approach tolerable. On a day like that I'm wearing bib overalls over fleece sweat pants, a work shirt with two layers underneath, a windblock vest, and, finally, the insulated hooded sweatshirt. And a hat. Only my fingertips really suffer, but if it's really bad I can always stow them in the sweatshirt pouch for a little relief.

Sliders

I've been installing sliding glass doors for the past couple days. It's very much like assembling a five year old's play kitchen. An inadequately detailed set of instructions (What's this part? I don't see that in the picture?!?) A bag of dozens of screws of several different varieties of which a significant pile are left over in the end begging for an explanation. The final product is not perfect; it's the result of a series of best-you-can-do concessions given the tolerances of the manufactured product and the inconsistencies of the rough opening. The goal is to approach perfect, and this is especially true in the case of renovation. If the 50 year old wall, the bearer of the brunt of hurricanes and dozens gales and nor'easters, into which the door is to be installed is a little out of plumb then the door will be a little out of plumb as well despite the instruction manual's insistence that the door be plumb, level and square.
The house we're renovating is an excellent example of aesthetics trumping energy efficiency. There's a wall of glass, about 30 ft long, facing north east, perhaps the worst possible exposure for a house on Block Island in the winter. A combination of double casement and transom windows and one 6' slider. (We installed this slider yesterday morning when the temperature was just breaking double digits.) Why would anyone want so much glass facing the absolute worst direction? The view, of course. Sweeping views of New Harbor and, in the distance, Block Island Sound.

Potatoes

I'm about to write a check to Fedco for an order of potatoes and onion sets. We might get a yield of about 200 lbs from what I've ordered (a mixture of fingerlings and good storage potatoes), and I've ordered enough onions to last about a year. Since we won't be there to start seeds this year, we'll have to buy some plants (tomatoes, for example), but much of the garden will direct seed. It's exciting to start thinking about next year's food.

2008

December 31st is a time for summation. Listening to NPR, I hear end-of-year thoughts on politics, the economy, movies (Bob Mondelo's Top 20 is our Netflix guide for a year of viewing); and, naturally, I start to think of our own 2008, an outstanding year by any measure. We're comfortably ensconced on the south side of Block Island, the gusts of a winter storm harmlessly howling by, rattling the windows. Chloe and Hazel are thoroughly enjoying their time here; and, despite a shakey start in regard to employment, everything's working out just fine. Our house-to-be is waiting patiently in Sedgwick, and with a little luck my entry for 2009 will be made from Michelle's new office on the second floor. We've had a difficult time balancing the needs of house building, Chloe and Hazel, and Michelle's work. Who doesn't have this juggling act? We tell ourselves that our busy-ness now is a down payment on a more relaxed, slowed down future. Slowing down is now a conscious act, something you've got to have on the back burner of the brain, a constant reminder that hyper-drive is unhealthy. I need this reminder. Otherwise, my gift of being able to focus on nothing but work would blot out the rest. (I realize that what I consider busy is fairly relaxed by today's standards.) I'll abruptly stop there; that's all for 2008.

Germans Take the Lead

Here's a link to an interesting story in the New York Times about a new standard for energy efficient housing. http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/27/world/europe/27house.html?hp
I could try to incorporate a passive heat exchanger into our house. Maybe a black box next to the wood stove. Fresh air piped in under the slab into the box, warmed with passive solar heat during the day and wood heat at night. The introduction of fresh air into a tight house is a critical piece of the energy efficiency puzzle. Leaky houses spend much of their heating energy warming the cold air filtering in. Without air exchange with the outside, though, the air in a tight house would become unhealthy. I was planning on having fresh air intakes (little circular vents in the walls that can be opened and shut) and your basic exhaust fans in the bathrooms and kitchen. In the middle of January with the house shut tight, the exhaust fans would operate with timed regularity and give us the air exchange we need. But I could, without much trouble, pre-heat the outside air coming in using something like the black box described above. The passive houses described in the NYT story pre-heat the air with the outgoing air and a little help from an electric heating element. A black metal box next to the wood stove work more or less the same way.

Guns

Just thought I'd log in for the month of December. I've been firing away for the last few weeks using pneumatic nail guns for shingling and framing, and I think it would be fair to say that I wouldn't be sitting here on Block Island if I had broken down and bought a gun. My reluctance to use the modern tools of the trade certainly slowed the pace. Anachronism has its price. If I'd used a gun, we might be living in our new house right now. But we're enjoying life on the island and looking forward to our return in May.

Working

I'm starting work tomorrow after a few weeks of wondering whether the credit crisis was going to sink our stay on the island. It wasn't looking good. Then, the phone rang. It was the first guy I'd talked to a few weeks ago. That first meeting wasn't encouraging; he had work but he didn't need anyone at the moment. A talk with Richard may have changed his mind. Whatever the reason, it looks like I have as much work as I can handle until we leave in May.

Since I'm in the act of writing, I might as well report that I may be able to order all the stuff for a solar hot water system through Richard's brother at cost. The savings could add up to 2 or 3 thousand dollars.