What's This?

So I'm sure you're asking yourself, gentle reader, what in the world a picture of some ragtag band is doing on this wonderful website dedicated solely to the adventures of building a house?

Aren't you?

Really, come on now, you are, are you not?

You're not?

Well, I'll tell you anyway.

Reconfirming my theory that everyone up here has at least two jobs, except me, pictured above are our builders--Denise and Charlie Sauter.

Denise is the vocalist for the group Jazzworks (website here) and does other stuff with Mama's Little Hippies (website here). Charlie is the bass player and sound mixer on the far right--of the picture, not the political spectrum.

Their websites (with audio) and their performance last night was terrific. Weather threatened to cancel the performance, but it eventually cleared into a crisp late autumn evening on July 30.

Charlie said afterwards that his hands felt numb for most of the performance. As for us we had to resort to bundling up with a blanket and a Minnesota sweatshirt.

The Stuff of Nightmares

In reference to this.

Pink is In!

Foam in basement floor is a radiant pink, presumably to radiate heat better. The pex tubing is next.

Mud room on the left; guest room on the right.

A river creature ponders her new/old digs.

Ann dreams.

Ahead of Schedule?

Is this even possible? After all the wrangling with banks/insurance/FEMA/etc. etc. etc. that we are ahead of schedule? According to Charlie, we are. And according to the timeline he provided, we are.

Ann called it correctly. When we pondered whether to undertake this adventure she said that the time was right--interest rates were low; folks needed work; the best builders had no waiting. And all those things turned out to be true. Charlie's company has only this project that's active whereas normally they have five at a time and a waiting list to boot.

The ability to devote resources and attention to one job is to our benefit as well as his.

From the river.

Ann and Lyle discuss all things septic (tanks that is).

Looking south down the drive.

Supervision (maybe that's why we're ahead of schedule.)

The basement foam readies itself for the in-floor radiant heating system.

Things Progressing

Floor joists next.

A large visitor.

Ann in the imaginary root cellar.

Mechanicals

Ann at the imaginary front door.

Looking west from the rear of the house.

For perspective note what's peeking over the mountain of sand, the front yard light.

It Can't Be THIS Easy

After all my whining, my angst, my frustration, my stepping out on to the ledge, it all came down to this: Step 1 Call a local independent insurance agent. (Note: It helps if it's a friend.) Step 2 Describe the issue. (Hint: Do not let someone in the throes of whining, angst, frustration or suicidal tendencies do the talking.) Step 3 Write out a check.

I still don't get it. You may have to enlarge these images by clicking on each, but if not, I will try to note the important sections.

Page 1 (of 1) (Top arrow) Box is checked; 'Flood Zone' is its heading. Bottom arrow--'No' is checked. Heading asks "Is Building in special flood hazard area (Zones beginning with letter 'A' or 'Z'?)

Page 2 (Written by Harleysville Mutual Insurance Company)

Top arrow--Estimated Replacement Cost $417,000

Middle arrow--Building and Contents Coverage Combination--$250k for building

Bottom arrow--"B0 Is the building located in a special flood hazard area on a flood hazard boundary map, or on a flood insurance rate map zone A, AB, A1-A30, AO, AH, A99, V, VE. V1-V30, AR Ar dual zones AR/AE, AR/AH. AR/AO, AR/A1-A20, AR/A?" (X) No is checked.
So, in conclusion, if I'm reading this right here's the summary. We bought flood insurance on the constuction site for $388 yearly premium. This covers a house, which is not yet there, up to a maximum of $250,000 despite the fact that its replacement cost will be $417, 000. Furthermore, this proposed house is NOT on a flood plain, nor in any of the various zones contained by a flood plain.

It is in no danger of flooding as determined by the DNR; is regulated by Federal dams at both ends, which are approximately 20 miles apart so that the water level varies only by an inch or two.

These dams are tested yearly, unlike state dams, to verify their ability to do what they are supposed to do.

BUT OUR LENDER IS REQUIRING FLOOD INSURANCE. So we paid the bribe.

Are we done? Oh, I don't think so. I will fax these copies to our lender and await his determination. At that point the next chapter will begin.

Round Robin (subtitle "Let Me Off This Merry-Go-Round"

I hit the wall yesterday (yet again and over yet the same issue).

As you may have been following along, you'll recall that the old house has been torn down and carted away; that the garage is almost completed; that the basement walls are poured and the cap is in place. Monday is scheduled for backfill and the in-floor radiant heating is installed before the slab is poured later in the week.

AND WE STILL HAVEN'T CLOSED ON THE CONSTRUCTION LOAN.

I wish I would have been keeping better track of these follies, but it goes something like this:

Our lender says we need flood insurance. Our insurance company says they don't think so. Our lender sends us a FEMA application for a variance that costs $800, takes 60 days, requires another survey along with an elevation certificate with no guarantee of acceptance as well as requiring a subsequent application when the house is completed.

The surveyor says he doesn't think another survey is necessary and views this as more government intervention into our lives. Our insurance company, wants to see what the lender sees so they fax several questions.

So for the past three weeks (or is it years?) I've been playing round robin with these entities. All the while our contractor is waiting to be paid.

I even begged the insurance company to sell us the most expensive policy they have and they still required the elevation certificate that the surveyor has deemed unnecessary.

To her everlasting credit, Ann saw me spinning out of control yesterday and took over matters. She talked to our builder who talked with the lender who now blames the insurance company who blames the surveyor who blames the government.

Monday we'll contact a local insurance agency to see if they will sell us a unnecessary flood insurance plan that avoids a survey and will be good enough to obtain the construction loan.

Brainstorm and Rainstorm

As Ann supervised the placement of the garage trusses, she noticed that they were spacious enough to hold stuff, specifically canoes and kayaks and skiffs. As she pondered this, she thought of barn doors with an arm that extends out and sometimes has a winch or a pulley for hoisting hay.

So she said, "Hay!" "Hey!!!"

The next thing I know, she's on the phone with Charlie, after consulting with Bob, and Charlie says that it would take nothing to do that.

Bob loans Ann his trusty measuring tape; Ann hops down to the shed to measure the base of the canoes and next thing I know, we have a barn door, or at least the opening for one.

Unfortunately I don't have a picture yet of the new barn door opening because the 40 year flood was about to happen and we (Ann, Emma and I) found ourselves huddled inside the garage, while the Toaster was left to fend for itself.

But before the storm hit I managed to click off a couple of snaps of the basement walls and drain

.

Garage Roof Trusses

Jay informs Bob that he sees a potential garage; Bob is unimpressed.

Jay describes how he landed a 60" muskie; Bob remains unimpressed.

From across the foundation walls of the house.

Pouring the Basement Walls

After a long weekend of inactivity due to threatening weather, Monday broke beautiful, so the pouring of the basement walls commenced with vigor.

The huge, (did I say HUGE) concrete pumping machine stretched itself over the treetops to allow the guy at the other end of it direct the concrete into the forms. My brother, Marc, can easily recall schlepping wheelbarrows full of this stuff along creeky, thin wooden planks to pour.

This seems faster and safer.

And the thing is operated by remote control, "like a big video game", says Ken, the operator.

Here it is in action:

July 17 (40 year anniversary of leaving the Army!)

View from the river.

Visible Progress

Emma has staked out her own special place (as is her wont).

Garage walls are up! I guess we wanted our cars to have a nice view since we have oversized windows.

And the footings are poured for the house. The entryway is on the right and the sunroom is the bump out closest to the guy on the left.

Exterior garage wall.

My favorite part of the garage. Up here during certain times of the year stuff freezes on the cars, then melts when they're in the garage. A floor drain was installed in the center of the floor. But unlike any garage floor drain I've seen, they also included a drain pipe out the lowest corner. After Tuesday night's deluge, a fluvial plain was formed.

From the Ashes

For a gadget guy like me, this borders on miraculous. The guy with the stick has a gadget attached that communicates with the excavator, (aka The Beast) which triangulates with up to 5 satellites and let's the operator know, within centimeters, where the ground is level. The Beast operator then scrapes (or adds) sand to make the whole area of the future basement level.

FSC (Forest Stewardship Council) lumber at the ready.

The very same beast that destroyed the house, now functions to ready the ground for the new one. First the hole in the ground; next the levelling.

Nuts and bolts are poised for the base plates and walls.

Little garage in the woods.

"There Goes Our House"--Ann

It was not a pretty sight. And it happened all too quickly. Ann couldn't watch. I lasted only slightly longer.

And in two days, it was a memory. In fact, when Ann said, 'There goes our house' we were standing at the sink of our temporary home and a truck was taking pieces of our house to the landfill.

Watch the destruction below:

More pics and vids may be seen by clicking here.

Bubba's Back!!!!!! Just in time (or because of) the 4th!

We are in that never never land between houses, (not to be confused with Neverland). And it's frustrating. Invariably what we need is at the other place.

I'm waiting for the day when what we need is packed away in the storage shed 11 miles away.

The first of every month is dog medicine day. Can you tell things are a little out of sorts? I asked Ann to remind me to Frontline the dogs, guarding against ticks and fleas, and Heartplus, which takes care of heartworm.

But the dog stuff was at 4734. With ill temper, I hopped in the Gator and sped over to retrieve what I needed and floored it coming back.

It was a good thing because as I crossed the creek, who should I see about 20 feet away, but an old friend, Bubba. I skidded to a stopped, we stared at one another for a few seconds, I said, "Good to see you!" He ran away.

I seem to have that reaction from many people lately.

But we feared that he was killed last fall by a teenage girl hunter and are so glad he's still around and looking good and running fast.

This Old (Historic) House

Going through an old house and deciding what to keep, what to store, what to give away, what to sell, and what to pitch can be a gut-wrenching nightmare. It's less so for me, because I've only lived here a relatively short time in the life of the home. For Ann, each new (old) discovery, whether it's a picture, a tie tack, a certificate, a wallet, a pipe, brings a flood of memories and often evokes strong, very strong emotions.

But amidst the Goldwater buttons, the Wallace tie tacks, the toy soldiers and certificates, one item, hidden deep within the recesses of the house, brought the most interest. Close friends ask about it first when they hear that we are deconstructing the house to rebuild on the same spot.

The item is 18 foot birchbark canoe, stored in the crawlspace. With the excavator looming on Wednesday of next week, it was time to see if it could see its way to daylight after 25 years in seclusion.

This is not an everyday 18 foot birchbark canoe as if there is such an animal. Faithful readers (both of you) of these pages will recall an article written on March 20, 2006. Here is a reminder. The article describes the passion and dedication of a "Renaissance Man" who, JUST FOR FUN, built birchbark objects--drums, baskets, and canoes. One of his more famous efforts, a 36 footer, was used in Voyageur reenactments in the 70's.

(Author's Note: A teacher in School District U-46, Reid Lewis, created, organized and successfully completed a year's worth of Voyageur related activities for schools throughout Wisconsin and Illinois. U-46 students, including the school board president's son spent a year performing these activities while earning credit toward graduation. I strongly believe that the canoe they used was Paul Munninghoff's creation. A former Larsen Middle School teacher, living in Hayward, WI, came into its possession I believe through Lewis. The canoe now resides in a resort just east of Hayward.)

Extracting our 18 foot historical artifact was no easy task. Years of storing other items around it as well as a couple of well placed (and well built) walls caused the task of springing this vessel to be more difficult than anticipated. Fortunately for us we had tremendous help in the form of our friends Bob and Dedie Hanson.

After some swearing and sweat and sledhammer work, the canoe emerged in pretty good shape--not seaworthy, but not falling to pieces either. Our local restorer friend is already licking his chops trying to get at this.

Bob, imagining an ancient well-kept native secret asked Ann what her father used to create his unique insignia. The anwer? Magic Marker. Ann said that her Dad often said that if the Indians had Magic Markers and staples available, they would have used them too.