Ronnie and I picked a cold northwest summer to implement our plan. Of course, we had no way of knowing that when we started the thing. It was the summer of our major house remodel on Olympia’s westside. We didn’t have much money. We did have a lot of heart.
We started by interviewing contractors. The most fabulous one we called Sir Barrett. He did excellent work, had a good reputation, used the finest materials, and was outrageously over our budget. We settled for a resourceful man named Rick who assured us he could fit the work into our $30,000 budget. It was 1993. Money went further then. We figured it would take June to September usually the warmer months in our part of the country.
Because we would be tearing up the whole house with the exception of two bedrooms and a bathroom, the other thing we needed was a cheap place to stay. Recreational vehicles were too expensive. We made inquiries to friends with trailers. We investigated an old truck someone had that was incredibly unsuitable. It worried us that we would be out of luck.
Frustrated, we pulled into our carport and sat talking. “What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know,” I said. I looked around. We had a three car carport with walls on 2 1/2 sides and a lockable shop. “I have a feeling there is something we can do.” I looked around trying to pull a stray idea into focus. “What about the carport?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if we’re thinking of living in something like that truck which has no heat and all it’s got going for it is that it’s covered. What about living in the carport?”
Ronnie looked at me thinking. I said, “We could put tarp on the street side. Bring out our refrigerator, microwave, table, couch, and our bed.” We lived pretty much to our selves on a dead end street.
“Yeah, we could put up mosquito netting on the other side.”
“I can build a loft for Alex’s bed...”
“This could actually work,” she said. “We can use the camp stove and the picnic table.”
“I knew we had a resource we weren’t thinking about!” At that, it was done. We had the plan. We just didn’t count on a really cold summer.
[Picture of carport with three cars in it.]
* * * * * * *
As June approached, we began moving out of our house. It included packing up what we didn’t need and storing it in the two bedrooms that wouldn’t be disturbed along with a bathroom with a shower. In the back corner of the carport, I built a loft for Alex up where I had been storing lumber. Our bed would angle with our feet under the loft. With three sides covered partially in wood, it had a cozy cabin feel.
With blue tarp hung up on the street side, we marched the refrigerator out. The freezer already lived in the carport. The microwave went into the shop. The TV lived on a cart that rolled out of the shop for viewing. The shop already had a phone and electricity in it. We brought out the couch, chairs, and dining room table. The stove went out just for storage as we didn’t have power for it. A friend of mine gave us a Kerosene heater for using outdoors. Outside in the adjacent covered driveway, we installed the picnic table with camp stove and tub for dish washing with a hose for rinsing. The driveway had a slight tilt to it to help with water runoff. We were comfortable campers and that was pretty much what it was.
Ronnie went on a hunt for mosquito netting. Mosquito netting turned out to be very expensive. In a stroke of brilliance, she discovered that wedding veil material was dirt cheap at a dollar a yard after the spring/summer planning season. She bought 25 yards. We stapled that along the open side in multiple layers to help keep out the bugs. We had an internal layer that blocked off the sleeping room for double protection.
Finally, we were set. We had plans, budget, and contractor. Rick began demolition of the internal part of the house. As a person who does not embrace change, I found the destruction of my home horrifying. To help create an optimistic hope for the future, we posted the drawings for the new house designs above our carport bed.
[Picture of couch and loft bed in carport.]
* * * * * * *
We had a foot pumped player piano from my childhood that was very heavy and not easily moved. We stored the piano in a corner of the living room and covered it. My Grandpa and I had refinished the hardwood floors a few years before so it could sit there comfortably. The rest of the house was empty except for the two bedrooms that were packed. There was a trail to the closets so we could use them for our clothes. Alex had a little dresser in the carport.
The plan was to gut the kitchen, dining room, living room, and one bedroom. A semi-finished garage needed to be completed for a master bedroom and a bath would be added. We designed an open concept house with a new kitchen and eight foot island. Removing a useless hallway would create a laundry room. New French doors leading to the the backyard with a newly created deck would define an internal wall for the piano.
Rick hauled out the toilet and tub from the demolished bathroom that was being relocated to the master suite. It turns out that toilets work perfectly out on the back lawn with a gallon of water for the flushing of pee. Sitting outside on a toilet looking at the woods is a fine thing. Pooping wasn’t such a good plan. With hot water access to a hose, the tub in the backyard was also a revelation. It became our one person hot tub. Why do people do all the fun stuff in closed rooms in houses?
Decisions had to be made for colors, trim, counters, cabinets, and tile flooring. Using the proper dimensions from the interior design plans, Ronnie ordered custom wood frame windows at a discount from her friend, Lloyd, who was a lumber broker. We spent our spare time looking at fixtures and handles. Evergreen College student woodworkers were employed to built quality kitchen cabinets for cheaper labor costs.
A tight rein had to be kept on the budget. There wasn’t any extra for high end choices. Neither of us had remodeled before. People said it was a real challenge for a relationship. The joke was couples either got closer or divorced. Ronnie and I had always been good decision makers together. We plowed through as we prepared for the long summer with hopes for warm weather in the Pacific Northwest.
* * * * * * *
Sleeping outside or nearly outside was comfortable and cozy with added differences. Crows woke us up in the morning from the Douglas Firs around us. “Caw. Caw. Hey!”
“What?” I’d wake up asking.
“It’s the crows.” Ronnie replied.
“Hey! Caw. Caw. What! Caw. Caw.” The crows fervently discussed issues every morning with english words sprinkled in. “What! Caw. Hey! Caw. Caw…” Crows haven’t sounded the same since.
Ronnie and I had been observing house building since a contractor started a nearby housing development in 1990. He had mowed down two square blocks of woods including two dirt roads. The dirt roads had been our long time dog walking paths. Since the contractor invaded our space, we made it our business to nightly inspect each house with our dogs as it was built. It gave us a unique perspective on building practices and design. We didn’t know we were in training for a remodel. We inserted ourselves in the houses at every stage until the doors actually got locks. This was pre-security cameras which take the fun right out of freelance house building inspections in the modern era.
One night a nearly finished house was unlocked. It was dark and late evening. The house had been carpeted and the heat was on. As we went in, the insulation and furnace noise blocked out other sounds. It felt like entering a house with someone sleeping down the hall. No one was there. After a quick peek, we escorted the dogs out and left. I thought that was pushing things a bit far. We scoured every inch of each house criticizing design choices. It honed our knowledge of what designs we preferred.
Learning about builders using contractor grade materials including particle board walls and sub-flooring enabled us to marvel at the bones of our house as they were revealed. Built in 1956, the house had timber with exact dimensions when 2x4s were actually 2” by 4”. The subfloor had large timbers placed in a diagonal pattern to support the main floor. Seeing the bones made us appreciate the house and the craftship that went into its construction. It caused us to trust the house as a structure made to last.
* * * * * * *
I took pictures of the torn up horror that was our house. Remodeling requires a leap of faith for me that it will come out all right. It requires a steady mind and hope. I am not always so great at the steady mind thing but I’m strong on hope. “Don’t look too closely, Joceile. It’ll be okay.”
I find myself doing this self talk a lot in life. When I’m ruminating, dwelling on the bad or frightening stuff, I think to myself, “Don’t go there, Joceile. No good will come of it.” Remodeling was like this. “What the hell have we done to the house?” Once I get over the demolition part, I could be more interested in the rebuilding part but until then it’s horrifying. “You want to jackhammer the cement floor to install a toilet? No! This can’t be good. Cement floors are there for a reason. It might never be solid again…I bought a perfectly good house ten years ago and now look at it!” Like life, one has to survive the uncomfortable process to get to the good stuff. “Oh, lord.”
[Picture of me dismayed with holes torn into house wall for French doors and a window.]
* * * * * * *
Alex had been living between me and Ronnie and her other mother’s house for four years. It wasn’t the best for her. The good news was that she didn’t have to live in the carport all the time with us. However, she liked the loft just above our bed with the cabin feel. She brought her friends over to proudly show them her bed and carport lifestyle. There wasn’t a lot of privacy in our open concept carport with the exception of the one bathroom we could still use in the house. She showed friends the toilet and tub in the back yard. Ronnie and I have always been just to the outside of normal. Once again, it was on display.
I got to hear Alex and her friends playing, making up stories, and flitting in and out of the wedding veil door.
We had two dogs and two cats. Zoa and Sasha were our dogs. Sarisvati and Neon were the cats. Sasha was the sole male in the household. Sarisvati was 13. She was a long haired calico with a will of iron. Nothing ever intimidated her, neither dogs nor people. She was the proprietor of the neighborhood. Often she would sleep in the middle of the neighbor’s grassy yard without a care in the world. If a dog ran towards her, she was instantly up on her hind legs hissing, waving her claws, and scratching without fear. A few claws to the nose and dogs retreated.
Sarisvati was incredibly beautiful. Unfortunately, she was a three stroke wonder. We got two free strokes down her body. The third stroke was followed by a quick, shocking bite. It wasn’t enough to draw blood but it was enough to provide correction. She was happy to have her face and jaw scratched. Other than that, buyer beware.
I had wanted a long, dark haired cat. When I met her as a very small kitten with her litter mates, I could see she was beautiful. She was chomping on a dead mouse. She growled whenever anything came near. This teeny kitten growling at her litter mates and me! Do you think I took that as a sign to leave her be? Oh hell no, I was sure she was the kitten I wanted. Lesson learned: When someone presents you with their bad side at first meeting, take it as a sign and walk away.
Neon, on the other hand, was the sweetest little cat. She was the runt of the litter. A coworker wasn’t sure she would live. She was part Persian with a thick, rich black coat. She always stayed small. She was a lover. To protect herself, she took to high places. She wasn’t brave like Sarisvati but she was a great cuddler. With all the open rafters in the carport, she had no problem finding safe places to hang.
The dogs were great campers and took to carport life with no problem. They hung out happily with us. At night, we tied them in the carport to keep them from inspecting neighborhood places without us.
In all, it was a cozy place if just the summer would get warmer. It didn’t get warmer. June was a wet 60 degree month. We kept hoping for sun and higher temperatures as we moved into July. We were dry but had to wear a lot of clothing to keep warm. We brought out a tub of hot water to wash dishes on the picnic table. Rinsing them with the hose was a colder process. I used the kerosene heater as much as I wanted. It only warmed us if we were close to it. Open air carports don’t heat well. The shop was too small to pack us all in to watch television. Summer had to get warmer. Right?
* * * * * * *
In July, it was the first summer Ronnie was going to the Puget Sound Guitar Camp. It was also her 40th birthday. She was going with her friend Marla. With both of us riding herd on the constant construction updates and building choices, she offered to not go. I wanted her to get to go. I told her I would handle it. We had phone contact so I would deal.
It was the night before she left early in the morning. Sasha and Neon both had medication I gave them. Sasha’s was on an as needed basis for thunderstorms and fireworks. Neon’s was a short course of antibiotics. We all got ready for bed. Ronnie and I read to Alex in our bed. Then, Alex climbed into the loft. We all settled in and turned out the light. We’re not early morning people. Ronnie was hoping to get decent sleep.
Suddenly, Neon was above us in the rafters making mewing sounds and scrambling onto wood. It was odd. We were all trying to sleep. Neon would settle down for a few minutes and go through the mewing and scrabbling again briefly awakening us. It was dark. We couldn’t see what was going on and hoped for the best.
After over an hour of this recurrent nightmare, I grudgingly turned on the light, got up on the bed, and reached for Neon. She was hanging from the rafters by her claws. I brought her down and held her in my hands. She flopped around.
I took in her loose body and said, “This cat has been drugged.” I paused a moment. “Who drugged this cat?” Then with an awful awareness, “I drugged this cat!”
Alex and Ronnie jointly said, “What?!”
I had mistaken Sasha’s thunderstorm medication for Neon’s. The light had been dim. I knew which bottle to use so I hadn’t checked the label. I checked it now. “Shit!” I’d given an 80 pound dog’s downer medication to an eight pound cat.
Ronnie jumped up and called the vet. The vet said that since it had already been in her system so long there wasn’t anything to do but make sure she kept breathing. Ronnie and I spent a long night taking turns holding Neon and listening to her breathe. It was scary. We loved Neon and didn’t want to lose her. I felt like an idiot. In the morning, Neon was alive and seemed fine. Ronnie was exhausted and trudged off to guitar camp. I learned to always check the bottle twice.
* * * * * * *
There are many moving parts to a remodel. It requires constant attention. With Ronnie at guitar camp, I was point person. Each morning involved a Rick check-in assessing the day’s task. We were expecting the wood framed windows to arrive that were ordered by Ronnie’s friend Lloyd. Rick was antsy to get the windows. He needed them for the next steps.
On Monday, the windows arrived. I went to work happily as Rick opened them. Tuesday morning, Rick informed me that most were the wrong sizes. What?!!! How can that be?! Rick walked me through the plans, sizing, and window orders. He showed me where they were supposed to go and what framing changes he would need to make to install them. He could make adjustments to make all the windows fit except two—the biggest two. Those were the master bedroom windows and needed to fit between beams. There was no fudge room.
Ronnie called that night. We discussed the problem and options. We agreed to use all the windows we could. I would call Lloyd the next day to see what could be done. Lloyd was unable to make any arrangements to credit us on the windows. We had to make an urgent order to get the proper size windows made and shipped. The irony was that our budget consciousness, in this case, had to go out the window. (Sorry, I couldn’t resist.) It would take another few weeks. Rick thought he could work around it.
Ronnie checked in each night. The windows were the most trying issue while she was gone. She had a great time except for the final night on stage when playing guitar in front of an audience. It caused her to have an out of body experience. She played for Alex and I when she got home.
* * * * * * *
Each night, we read to Alex before she went to sleep. She sat between us on our bed as we read. We discovered that Black Beauty was too upsetting to read and settled on Charlotte’s Web. Charlotte’s Web is a lovely book filled with sweet animals. Most notably Wilbur the pig and Charlotte the spider. It was the end of the book that was a problem for Ronnie and I.
Ronnie and I often took turns reading. We knew how it would end. As we approached the imminent demise of Charlotte, my voice would break after reading half a page. I would hand it over to Ronnie so she could read until she started to cry. Then, Ronnie would hand it back to me. Snuggled between us, Alex sat there watching this passing of the book back and forth looking vaguely puzzled as our tears started to fall and both of us repeatedly choked up. Ronnie and I were bereft at the passing of Charlotte. We managed to make it through the end of the book with both of us crying. Alex did not cry. We appeared to be doing a good enough job for the three of us.
On Sundays, I noticed the paper delivery boy was increasingly interested in what was going on in the carport. He didn’t just drop the paper at the front door but tried to peer inside. As he grew bolder, I planned revenge. Finally, he crept in through the mosquito netting, closer to our makeshift bedroom. The dogs ignored him. I was waiting. He crept closer and closer poking his nose where it didn’t belong. I jumped out and said, “Boo!” He spun around and launched himself out of the carport and back up the street. “Asshole,” I thought. He was not our delivery person much longer after that.
I believed I was handling the remodel well. However in early August, I got my first ever migraine. A piercing at my temples diminished my positive outlook. I was marginally functional. The pain was relentless. I couldn’t go to work. After several days, the director of my small agency called ostensibly to see how I was doing. He also mentioned there was no one to do my work. Standing there at the phone in the shop, I told him there wasn’t much I could do until I got better. I was out for a week and a half. I’m sure he was enormously relieved for my health when I returned.
The summer did not get better weather wise. It was like my experience of camping in bad weather. It was endless. In an act of desperation, Ronnie and I got in the car with the dogs and headed east to find the sun. We drove across the Cascade mountain range to the other side of Mt. Rainier. Just outside of Yakima, we found the sun and blessed eastern Washington warmth. Happily, we found a hotel that took dogs. It was a pleasant break from cool remodel insanity.
Moving between our house and her other mother’s was never easy on Alex. One morning she was dropped off clearly upset. “I’m not staying. I’m leaving.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m leaving.”
She started walking down the drive way. “It’s not okay for you to just leave.”
“I’m not staying.”
It’s easy to stop a six year old from leaving. I picked her up and brought her to the couch in the carport. “I’m not staying!” She struggled wanting to escape.
“I’m going to hold you until you’re safe.”
“No. No.” Her struggling continued.
I kept holding her. “I’m not letting go until you’re safe.” This continued with each of us repeating our lines. Finally, she started crying and stopped struggling. I knew there were tears inside.
At that moment, Rick drove up and walked passed saying, “Someone’s unhappy.” Ya think?
I continued to hold Alex while she cried until she was able to talk to me. We all have our breaking points.
[Picture of me and Alex sitting at picnic table playing cards with dishwashing tubs in foreground.]
* * * * * * *
The deep green tile floors were to be installed in the kitchen. The newly created wall was ready for the piano. Resting on a wheeled dolly, the piano needed to be moved before the tile was installed. The tile installers would help Rick move it. I told Rick as I left the house, “Don’t try to move the piano by yourself. It weighs 800 pounds. You don’t wanna try to catch it if it falls.” Rick said he knew.
Ronnie and I returned several hours later. The tile looked good. As I passed by, I happened to look at the piano. The wood casing didn’t look right. I moved my fingers across it. I asked an installer, “Did something happen to the piano?” He directed me to Rick.
“Rick, did something happen to the Piano?”
“I tried to move it myself.”
“What happened?”
“It fell over.”
“It fell over?”
“I caught it.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I think the cabinet just got a little scuffed.”
“Scuffed, Rick? Look at this.” I pointed out places where the wood had moved. “Here and here. See how it doesn’t meet right?” I was starting to breathe fast. “You were supposed to wait, Rick.”
“I know. I have insurance. We’ll get it fixed.”
“Insurance?”
“Yeah, liability insurance. I’ve never used it. We’ll get it fixed. It just needs a little cabinet work. You tell me where to take it.”
The piano was given to my Granny by my Grandpa and mother when she was young. It’s been a fixture in my entire life. At that point, I just had to walk away. “We can talk about this more later, Rick.” I was still breathing fast, resisting the impulse to punch Rick.
* * * * * * *
The cold summer bled into a cool September. Alex started school. Rick arrived later and later. Ronnie would see his Toyota truck parked in a restaurant parking lot on her way to work at 11. Rick said he was eating breakfast but was arriving at noon and then past noon. We didn’t know how much more needed to be done on the house. But, we couldn’t move back in the way it was.
“I’m gonna fire him! Then, I’m going to kill him.” Ronnie’s slow burn turned to a boil. “If you don’t do something, I’m gonna kill him! Then, I’ll be in jail and you and Alex will be living out here by yourselves.” She barely took a breath pacing and waving her arms. “I swear I’m gonna fire him and then kill him!”
I called Donna, my long time lawyer friend, to get advice. Donna was immensely helpful. I wrote down the language she gave me about breach of contract, certified letter notifications, and other threatening words. I called Rick and left a message on his answering machine with these legal notification words. Then, I typed a letter with the same language and mailed it to him certified from the post office.
Rick responded to my voicemail quickly. He said he was getting a divorce and was having a hard time. He said he’d be there on time the next day. I prepared talking points. I needed to keep Ronnie from going to jail. We also needed our house finished.
Rick drove up looking sheepish the next day. Ronnie had already taken Alex to school and gone on to work. I walked up as Rick got out. “Rick, we need to talk.”
“I feel bad, Joceile.” He looked sad.
“Rick,” I said. “I’ve always liked you. I’d like to keep liking you. Ronnie is ready to fire you. It’s September. School has started. Alex and I are both sick. We need to get back in the house.”
“I know. This always happens. I should have prepared you about the finish work.”
“Rick, you need to finish the floors now.”
“I can finish the trim and then the floors.”
“No, Rick, you need to finish the floors. We need to move in.”
“But, the trim work...”
“Rick, do the floors. You can do the other stuff after we move in.” Rick agreed but got teary. I gave him a hug. The hug buoyed him. He went to work.
Each night, I confirmed when he would arrive the next day and where he was on the floors. Each morning when he arrived, I gave him a hug. Rick liked the hug and showed up for that as much as completing the contract. It seemed a small thing to give our contractor a hug a day to finish the job. So every morning after I gave him a hug, he went happily to work.
After a week of my being a serious hug giving taskmaster, Rick finished the floors and we were able to move in. It had been the coldest summer in 40 years. Once in, Alex and I recovered from our colds. Rick was slow at finishing the trim work. He did get it done probably mostly for the hugs.
Ronnie and I became attached to sleeping outside all summer. Previously, it had been an occasional thing. It was 27 years ago. Every summer since, we put up the outside bed. We find our deck is quieter than most campgrounds. I also learned the unbelievably motivating power of a simple but solid hug.
Joceile
11.14.20
P.S. The house came out beautifully.
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