ForbesOnTech

The Pods Return--My Stuff Comes Home. The Good Life For Me, But Not So Good for the Gophers

In addition to a nice relaxing soak in my new Jacuzzi/bathtub, the other great thing about my remodel was watching the storage company bring my two storage pods up from the street this evening.

Much of what I missed dearly in the five-plus months I lived in my den is packed in those two storage pods.  Essentials like: the LCD TV I had in my bedroom, the cable converter, my Monsoon outdoor speakers, my hyper accurate scoped Beeman pellet rifle, My good suits, coastal approach charts that I’ve annotated and marked with locations where I’ve caught various Thunnoid family members and large halibut, my two hand made custom fishing rods, the sofa and coffee table that use to be in my den, and if I remember correctly, my favorite mission style chair, and my personal DVD collection.

Good Lord, I’ve missed my stuff. But now it’s back home locked in two storage pods in my front driveway. And starting early tomorrow morning it gets loaded back in my house, one trip at a time.

It’s funny how much stuff you can accumulate rather quickly.  My general rule of thumb is this: if I don’t use something for two years, it gets tossed or donated. As I loaded the pods last winter, I carefully put “stuff” I didn’t need in donation piles and then had my son run them to AmVets as soon as he had a truckload. In all, he made three runs to AmVets. That’s a lot of stuff and it made me aware of my tendency to be a packrat.

Unpacking tomorrow gives me a chance to reexamine my “stuff” all over again.  I anticipate at least one more run to AmVets since I really don’t need heavy winter coats living here in San Diego.

But there are some things I’m anxious to see and put to use again.  High on thi list is my radio controlled model plane, which the local hawks don’t like one bit. And I really like my six-foot spinning rod. It has exactly the right center of balance and guides I need to put iron ( a lure) where the yellowtail swim.  And catching a Pacific yellowtail on a jig is one of the real “Wa Hoo” experiences in life.

Oh, and while my stuff has been in storage, there’s been an explosion of gophers and voles, down in my yard.  Just as soon as I get my pellet rifle out tomorrow morning I think I’ll engage in some pest control.

Too bad Mr. Gopher and Mrs. Vole, Caddy Shack is on tonight and that’s all the inspiration I need.---Jim Forbes 05/02/2008

My Remodel Completed, and I Have a Long Celebratory Soak in My New Jacuzzi Tub

            For long suffering home remodelers there comes that magical day when the building inspector arrives, pulls your plans from the PVC tube where they’ve been safely stored during the one or more seasons of your discontent, pulls out their trusty pen and signs off below the box marked “approved for occupation.”

            And with that convoluted lead I’m pleased to say that biggest part of my remodel/addition project is now complete. So, I called “the boys” (nephews and such), and arranged for them to help unload the two storage pods that come back up the hill tomorrow morning.

            The reopening of my house and move back into somewhat normal living spaces is something I’ve been awaiting a long time. There’s really no way to honestly say that living in your den for six months is a lot of fun. It’s definitely not something I’d recommend, ever.

            So now all that’s left is to settle down in the new space, arrange furnishings I haven’t seen since December and then get Ma Forbes, packed up and ready to move into her new digs. That comes in two weeks and by then I hope to hav her house sold so I can close the last chapter of my family’s life in little Azusa, CA.

            Now that it’s all done except for the moving in part, I can’t say it’s been fun. It’s not. It’s been a pain in the ass. But, the remodel simply makes my life a lot easier by eliminating the once or twice a week 200 mile round trip excursions I was making to Azusa to take Ma Forbes shopping and the like, and it helps me reat easier knowing that my90 year old mother is somewhere safe and not alone in a house opposite a freeway off ramp.

            The really good news is that Ma Forbes now has a safe, new living space that’s designed around her needs. Also there were no unpleasant surprises during our remodel and finally it came in on budget and nearly on time.

            I think the lack of problems we had can be traced back to two factors:

1. We spent a lot of time during the front end planning process, thinking about what kind of living space my Mom wanted and what she wanted in her new digs. We plotted out the room using graph paper numerous times, going so far as t o create scale paper cut outs of her furniture and then encouraging her to arrange the planned space.

I also was very fortunate to have a fellow co-worker from Windows Magazine, Jonathan Blackwood, come calling with his partner, who is an architect. Jonathan and Dean spent a long time talking to us about handicapped accessibility and senior living requirements.  That conversation is reflected throughout Ma Forbes’ new quarters, even though she still is very ambulatory.

2. We made sure the contractor’s designer understood what we wanted and involved Ma Forbes in that process. We were also open to any suggestions the designer had and then made sure all the parties agreed to what was proposed.
3. As a result of our planning there were no “While We’re at it” changes to any of our plans.
4. At the end of every work day we made sure we knew what was on tap for the next day and most often reviewed progress with our site/job superintendent.
5. As the project moved along, I periodically brought MaForbes down so that she would stay enthusiastically connected to the remodel addition. I’d also call her at the end of the day to give her progress reports.
6. Our remodel took place just as contractors were being deluged with rebuilding homes lost in the Witch Creek Fire.  Most of the contractors down here in north San Diego County have been absolutely slammed with work, but ours, Jackson Design and Remodeling, completed the job efficiently and on time.
7. When I started the project I foolishly assumed that because I used the Internet for many of life’s transactions my contractor and local building department would too. Boy was I ever wrong. The Building trades and their corresponding municipal agencies very much run on inked signatures (although it’s commonplace to exchange .PDF documents. Someday building processes will come to the Internet, but it’s going to be a while before that happens.

And that’s it for my remodel. The first payoff for me is a long soak tonight in my new Jacuzzi bathtub back in  the master bedroom suite. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh.—Jim Forbes 04/30/2008

Seeing the Light at the End of the Remodel Tunnel-- It was left on in my New Walk-in Closet

When you’re knee deep in a remodel, struggling to remember what it was like to live amidst unbelievable chaos, it’s sometimes hard to remember that it’s really going to end.  And after five months, I really really want to believe that it’s almost over.

            The news this week is that at the end of the workday today I literally saw the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. The electrician who finished connecting all the circuits in the addition and in my remodeled master bedroom accidentally left on that light.

            And what a wonderful light it was.  It shined like a beacon, inspiring me to take all my clothes from the bought at Ikea portable clothes racks --that consumed what use to me my living room—and hang up them up neatly in the tiny portion of the new walk-in closet previously allocated to me by Miss Betsy.

            How thoughtful of my electrician to put a light bulb in the closet and leave the switch on. So now my living room is somewhat open, although there are about 10 new cabinets waiting to be installed in MaForbes’ Suite and in my bathroom (which is the last part of the remodel).

            So I feel a little better and my contractor told me this evening that “it’s almost over.”

            Praise Cheeses and pass the nail gun, brother!

            I’ve tried to keep blog entries on my remodel short and bright. It’s been a trying experience and I just want it to end. And it is, real soon, I hope.

            Looking back at the project I think I can see a couple of opportunities for computer software that could really help make remodels less taxing.

            First, I really wish there was Gantt-based project management software that could be used by homeowners and their contractors.  And in an ideal world that software would have a spreadsheet-like function that produced running totals and rolled up subproject cost and materials summaries. It doesn’t sound like much of a wish but it could be a worthwhile application for entities such as Lowe’s, Home Dept, or even Sunset Magazine. And while I’m dreaming, it would be nice if such a program were web-based, so that I could access it anywhere, to remind myself what a fool I was for wanting accoutrements like hardwood floors or designer plumbing fixtures.

            I was a technology writer for a long time before my sudden retirement. And looking back there is a program from the mid nineties I wish was still around. It was a hybrid CD-ROM+web-based access to catalogue data application for remodelers from a  start-up called BooksThatWork. Sadly, the company and its software are now gone, but Stu Gannes, the start up’s founder, had the right idea, even if he was ten years too early with his product.

            Remodeling is a huge market worth hundreds of millions of dollars a year now.  And, I can’t imagine any homeowner not using a personal computer for some part, if not all, of a remodel project.

            Here are some things I’ve learned from my remodel:

+18-volt Lithium Ion cordless tools rule. They’re very costly but  the battery chemistry gives enough power to last most of the day.

+Nail guns can be fun but are obviously dangerous.  Shooting nails at gophers is a real no-no.

+Conversely, if you don’t already own a nailer, by all means go out now and buy one.  I think an 18-volt battery operated nailer is a great sticking stuffer.  Get your kids started out right with an inexpensive, less powerful 12-volt nailer. If you’re really good, they may let you use it sometime. Learning to get the nailer to shot only once after you first buy it can be fun. A word of caution: when using a nailer, try very hard to remember where you feet and hands are at all times.

+ Owning your own compound miter saw is fun. You’d be surprised how creative you can be when it comes to chopping and designing joins using a single operation with a powered compound miter saw.

Well I just turned the light at the end of my remodel tunnel off for the night. But tomorrow is another day and I’m anxious to try out my new Jacuzzi bathtub.  I can feel the pain in my back and joints slipping away now, as I ease into the 82 degree bubbling water with its pulsing jets massaging my aching muscles.—Jim Forbes, 04/11/2008/

Surviving a Tough Remodel and Managing Expectations

Four months after I abandoned my bedroom, one of my two bathrooms and turned my den into a cramped studio apartment now occupied by two adults, two useless cats and an older, but sick, Chihuahua, my remodel is nearly done.

            I’ve lived through the sound of concrete being jack hammered at 7:30 AM, a chorus of nail guns firing at about the same time, and the smell of fresh cut wood, wet concrete and hot solder. The good news is that the remodel project is just weeks away from completion and Ma Forbes is getting ready to move in. The even better news is that I didn’t grab a nail gun and ventilate anyone with one or two dozen ten-penny nails. There were times when I wanted to, but when It got really weird I just grabbed my dog, loaded the giant cat food bowls up with chow, pulled up stakes and took mental health days.

            The biggest problem with my remodel was my expectations.  Moving from Silicon Valley, where everything is done using the Internet, I thought my contractors would be at least on a par technologically with me.  I was wrong, and it’s my fault.  One of the biggest surprises in this project was how little contemporary technology plays any part in the remodeling process.  Although our plans and other documents were transmitted to us in .PDF, we had to manually sign approvals and return them using the US Mail or couriers. I was disappointed to discover that my local planning and building departments also wanted hand signed documents.

            I had at least hoped that my contractor would use Instant Messaging, or email, much more than they did. Again, the problem was mine, not my contractors.  I can completely understand their need for hands-on transactions. After all, they want to make sure that the customer understands exactly what’s going on and (in their mind), nothing does this better than face to face communications.

            All of this brings me to my contractor, Jackson Design and Remodeling. We talked to several other firms before settling on Jackson and I don’t regret our decision one bit. Our contractor has been incredibly thorough and very professional.  The job site has been left clean at the end of most days, and all their employees and subcontractors have been courteous and helpful, taking time to answer my myriad questions.

            I really like our construction superintendent. He’s stayed on top of our job throughout the last four months, making sure workers arrive when they’re needed. Unlike my first remodel project here in Escondido (which involved new hardwood floors and updating the late 1960’s kitchen) construction has gone along quite smoothly, even with unanticipated rain delays.

            What problems we’ve encountered can be pinned to one thing: slow communications.  I’m not sure if that’s because our expectations were set by speed-of-internet communications standard of Silicon Valley or because things may have been going slowly at my contractor’s offices. 

            Whatever the reason, Ma’s new living space is up, framed, plumbed and wired.  The final coat of stucco is on the outside walls and my Ma Forbes has a lovely new patio that looks out over my two rows of peach, apricot, tangerine and navel orange trees. As of tonight, orange and tangerine blossoms scent the air, and I have new book filled with plans and instructions on how to build whimsical patio furniture using PVC pipe.

            I don’t want to write about what the cost of the remodel. The total price tag is almost half what my house here cost in 2003. Be that as it may, Ma Forbes is looking forward to moving in and I’m looking forward to the company and not worrying about whether or not my Mom is safe, living alone in the house my dad built without any power tools, using solid redwood, post and tendon framing in 1949 to 1950. And when Ma moves in, it’s good-bye to the house on the corner of Third and Virginia in Azusa.

            One door closes, another opens, and a For Sale signs marks the end of an era—Lois Sele’s 90 years in the sleepy little canyon town of Azusa, CA. Oh, and as long as live, I'll never do another remodel. Ever! –Jim Forbes, 04/06/2008.

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Foundations About to get Poured--Getting Ready for Ma's big Move to Escondido--Managing Expectations

With over half of my personal check list items for Ma Forbes’ new quarters here at Rancho Bizarro South completed, It’s time for the surprisingly expensive task of ordering: bathroom fixtures, handles for the new cabinets and all those wonderful things I need to do to make sure ma 89-year-old mother has a nice comfortable living space.

            Honest to God, I had no idea that faucets, faucet handles, drawer pulls, towel racks and the  like were made of unobtainium. But looking at the bill for all the stuff sitting in three big tubs in my garage has been a major reality check. And then there was yesterday’s shopping trip to the Container Store in San Diego. So now Ma’s going to have a special container for everything she wants to store in her two closets.

I started this remodel project last September; realistically it’s occupied about 20 hours a week of my time since then.  My building plans, information on my septic system and the like were filed with the city in September also. My permit was just granted and posted last week. Since then we’ve had two inspections; one for rough plumbing and the other for the foundations.

My lumber shipment arrives tomorrow morning and weather permitting concrete gets poured as well.

I’m trying to make my mother feel like she’s part of the process, so I’ve spent a lot of time managing her expectations and helping her to understand that my home is also her home and that she is not to isolate in her quarters.

One of the important things left on my list is getting a new primary care physician for her at Kaiser. I understand how important this is to her and have had nothing but great service from Kaiser when it comes to the complex task of matching her needs to a physician she can trust.

Mom’s health concerns also extend to her 17-year-old useless cat, a Himalayan named MeeGo.  I’ve already had my vet call MaForbes’ vet so I’ve been able to manage any concerns she’s had about bringing her pet into a household that already has two tortoise shell tabbies and a somewhat inquisitive Chihuahua. Every time I’ve brought Ma down to my house I’ve made sure that she brings her cat, which gets along famously with my dog, “Perro.”

Like other baby boomers who want and are able to care for an elderly parent, I want to make the move to her new digs painless and enjoyable. At first I was quite worried that her 90-year bond with the city of Azusa would be impossible to break.

Just the opposite has proved true and as I begin what I hope is the final two months of this process, what I’ve discovered is that she’s anxious to move and seems quite happy with her new living quarters and arrangements.

My one word of advice to anyone else bringing Mom or Dad into their homes is simple: be sure to involve them in all phases of the process, from window placement down to the selection of plumbing fixtures, appliances and cabinets.

If all of this paints me as some altruistic middle-aged man who believes in filial loyalty don’t be fooled.  I get things out of this as well; the companionship of someone who makes me laugh, who likes my dog, the fresh produce I grow and who knows what motivates me. Also, bringing Ma Forbes to my house means I no longer have to make the 200 mile roundtrip to her house once a week to take her shopping and on errands. Lately, I’ve found that making that trip in one day is a bit taxing, but I still think it’s worth it.

In summary, although expensive, I’ve been able to use technology and my sense of humor to accomplish a somewhat vexing task.  I still don’t like living in what amounts to a studio apartment—my den—during construction but as soon as the foundation gets laid down this week things will come together very quickly.  And soon, I’ll be left with only two tasks: packing up the things Ma wants to bring down here (and giving away the surplus to her grandchildren) and then selling the little house on the corner of Third Street and Virginia Avenue in rural Azusa, CA. My dad, Boardie Forbes, built that house without any power tools, on a 1949-1950 budget of $700. It’s the place of my earliest memories and was a gathering point for my family for 50 years.

The circle goes on. What comes round, goes round—Jim Forbes 02/03/2007.

On Living in a House with Few Walls and Twitchy Pets

    Yesterday, I escaped remodel hell by whirring down my little hilltop to pick up some groceries. As I motored ever so efficiently in my hybrid out of my driveway I noticed a large white sign had been installed on the corner of my hill.

"Suffering Succotash," please tell me my home isn't for sale" I thought as I drove down the mountain. Although I admit to having a brain accident, my noggin isn't so scrambled that I'd forget that I may have listed my house. Besides, I really love my acreage and its slow but steady transformation into my version of an agricultural paradise, sans horses and cattle.

     I rolled to a stop in front of the sign.  It wasn't a "for sale" post, but rather a small neat poster giving the name of my contractor and the fact that he was remodeling my house. It's a nice compliment to the portapotty setting in plain view further up my lot, next to the huge industrial construction materials dumpster that completely covers where I've gardened for the last four years.

     So.. I came back from the market, pulled into my driveway, hit the garage door opener and lined up my car. That's when I noticed the four ceiling fans from rooms that are being remodeled sitting on the garage floor, blocking my parking. I really thought that I'd made it clear, "the garage is taboo!"

     I think what I have is a failure to communicate.

     But it gets better, about 90 linear feet on the east and north sides of my house are now open to the howling winds and the explorations of no to so timid local wild things. This morning at about 2 AM, my cats and Senor Perro --all of which happily try t o push me off my bed in the den-- came instantly awake and went on the alert.

     Nothing gets me more worried than waking up to the sights and sounds of electric-haired cats with hissing forked tongues and freaked out fat tails, staring up o out at something I can't see in the middle of the night. My chihuahua looking in the same general direction with his spine hair up only enhances the experience.

     After the cats stopped jumping at the ceiling, I recognized the sound-- the neighborhood barn owl has discovered the rafters in the open rooms on the east side of the house. I felt bad about going outside with my flashlight and chasing the owl out of my house. For about two seconds. I'm over it now and the small creatures are back sleeping, albeit with one eye open.

     The remodel is well on its way.The new plumbing is in and connected to my septic system. The concrete foundation forms are laid out and today or tomorrow is the first big inspection. But most of all, I've selected and ordered the bathroom fixtures for MaForbes' space.

     I've not yet had a meltdown and I've learned to trust my building superintendent. Amazing!

     But while all this madness is happening I've decided I really would like a steam boat pilot's house for a small office on top of my roof. Can't you see it now, me sitting up in a gingerbread pilot's house flanked by two tulip leafed smoke stacks, looking out over the Escondido Valley, with my pellet rifle at the ready, just in case gophers pop up down below?

     I absolutely have to get another hobby, or this remodel is going to make me crazy. one month down and two to go to completion..--Jim Forbes 01/17/2008.

The Quest for the Perfect Peach Amidst the Chaos of a Remodel Project

Adding room for MaForbes here at Rancho Bizarro South curtailed my plans for adding a series of raised beds for my upper garden—in which I grow mostly vegetables this spring.  My garden is now completely covered by a huge ass debris box that is almost entirely filled with old framing remains and sheet rock that’s been torn off the interior walls of three rooms.

            To make this scene even more like “the Grapes of Wrath Meet Jim the Hobby Farmer,” there’s a blue portapotty sitting where my outside office has been for the last three years. It’s enough to make me cry. Or, fire up my chainsaw.

            I’m torn between adding to the picture by jacking up my 4Runner and leaving it on cinder blocks, or going on a fruit tree-planting binge.  Good sense and my good fortune intervened this evening. Leaning up against my boat are five new bare root stone fruit trees t I will plant down below as soon as the rain lets up.

            In addition to losing my large upper garden space, I also had to either kill or dig up and move my beloved and until now very pampered Royal apricot tree. It was in full production last year, yielding about 100 2-3 ounce fruits in mid-season (June). Rather than taking a saw to the tree I spent about three hours carefully digging it up, and then moving it to a new hole about 50 feet from my Avalon peach trees.

            The tree had to be moved and the worse case scenario is that it goes into deep shock and dies. If that happens, I’ll replace it with a Royal apricot. I happen to have two bare root Royals out in the boat port, so I figure I’m ahead of the game already.

            My one big 2008 agricultural project is my quest for the perfect peach. I’m not talking about early-season free stones. I want a peach that’s so perfect you instinctively cradle it with your fingertips after you carefully cut it from the tree.

Peaches demand Zen-like dedication and I like this fruit so much, I’m willing to listen to master gardeners and follow their instructions to the letter.

            The perfect peach starts with good soil.  I have that in abundance and I use humble steer manure for fertilizer.  The other requirement—or so I’ve been told—are  requisite “cold days” needed for blossom production. The word “cold” isn’t something you hear much about in San Diego so absent frost I may have to put some ice near my tree’s roots, or I may have to sacrifice a reindeer while wearing my horned Viking hat. That’s what Master Gardener Thor tells me, but I think he may be putting me on.

            My basic peach stock is a freestone variety called an “Avalon.” It doesn’t require a lot of cold days and it seems to do very well here in Zone 9. I spent two interesting days this fall learning how to prune peaches from an elderly  Japanese American guy here in Escondido who grows the best peaches I’ve ever tasted south of Merced, CA.  He taught me to cut my trees so that the fruit gets a lot of air and not to allow the lower branches to become overcrowded.

            My peach trees now look like something you’d see at in a nursery’s display orchard, now all I have to worry about is peach curl.

            When it comes to home grown fruit, peaches rule.  I’ve never had friends of family turn up their noses and say, “no thanks, I don’t want your peaches.” Come to think of it, there’s nothing better than hand cranked homemade peach ice cream on the fourth of July, which is right in the middle of my peach season.

            Last year I put up about two gallons of sliced peaches in glass jars.  I still have about three quarts of fruit left in my pantry.  Whenever I need to be reminded of why I care about growing great fruit, I spoon out a small bowl of my chilled fruit and think of the season to come.

            In addition to stone fruits, I also have two young navel oranges down in my miniature grove. This year Santa stuffed two great looking orange navels in everyone’s stocking, along with some of my homegrown Clemintine tangerines.

            Not grow citrus? You’re kidding, right? —Jim Forbes, 01/04/1008.

            

            

Demolition Starts, New One Note Files Get Created, Getting Started on Ma's New Digs One Gigabyte at a Time

Honest, when I retired five years ago, the thought of becoming a construction superintendent and building project manager was an idea that would have made me laugh.

            Well, now that I’m into my second and biggest project, I’m laughing. Hysterically. And crying.

            But for anyone who’s ever done a big house remodel or addition project, this isn’t exactly news.

            Beginning the week before Christmas, my days have been filled with meetings with contractors, building department officials and the platoons of people you get to meet and hire when you’re involved in a seemingly simple project like adding a full bedroom with an en-suite bath for your 89-year-old mother.

            The madness of t his project hit home this afternoon as I emptied my home into the last of the three storage pods lining my driveway. So tonight I find myself living in what amounts to a studio apartment with a separate bath and kitchen.  My dining area use to be my kitchen counter, and my bed is in the middle of what use to be my den.

            My three domestic pets are freaked. One of my cats is on an anti- depressant, My dog just discovered the bed has moved from a back bedroom to the den and the wild beasts have returned to my back yard.

            Part of what use to be an exterior wall in the back of my house is now two sheets of heavy plastic. It’s raining and I’m reasonably sure that somewhere just north of me, icy blue glaciers are creeping down California.

            And someone just told me “to chill out.” 

            Chill out my butt!  My doc put me on a new med, I blew up my right knee moving a convertible sofa bed and the fist construction project unearthed and activated a veritable army of small venomous scorpions nestled all warm and snug under the foundation of my house. 

            I’ve tried to be methodical in my approach to this remodeling project. I’ve become a journeyman user and true believer in Microsoft One Note—a software product I can’t live without. I use it everyday on my convertible notebook to track the myriad details that make up my construction punch lists and milestone notes.

            I’m reasonably sure Microsoft probably never thought One Note would find a practical use in the building trades, but hell, I really didn’t want to kill entire forests to printout the miles of Perk and Gantt charts that Project Management software produces.

            So everyday I boot up my little notebook, unsheathe its stylus. and go over my One Note files and lists of projects associated with this infernal remodel. And, when I have to run down to the city hall, the notebook and my key ring filled with neatly labeled USB drives stays  in my sweaty right e hand as I prepare to do battle or become enlightened in the secret ways of building codes. I’ve always had a lot of professional pride in my note taking ability so you can imagine how victorious I feel when after a frank discussion with building department people, when I highlight a section of text that includes the time and date of a particular conversation and cross references to PDF files the city and county hands out swivel my notebook’s screen, and archly proclaim “There! Right There! Do you remember now, Sparky?”

            Demolition has only just started on the project. Next week, the sledgehammers, crowbars, wheelbarrows and tiny tractors start work.  One of the first things on the project list, after they frame the new approximate 1000 sq foot bedroom is breaking the cement flooring and check the grade in what use to be my master bedroom to tie in the plumbing for MaForbes’ new bath.

            And the only notes in my large construction project file related to this are the three Golden Rules of Plumbing:

            Always wash your hands before eating

            Payday is Friday

            Shit flows downhill.

            But that’s not exactly true. You see the contractor reminded me this morning that I have to pick out and order Ma’s new bathroom fixtures. Honest to God! I had no idea faucets, sinks and drains cost thousands of dollars. Well now I know and my contractor tells me that once I’ve made a decision he can get the physical dimensions he needs directly from the manufacturer. Thank God for COD shipments and the Internet.

            So, for the next three months, unless I go absolutely nutso, buy a FEMA trailer and runaway to the gold county in northern California I’m living in the most costly flat in rural northern San Diego County. Jim Forbes 12/29/2007.

Building an InLaw for MaForbes-- One Gigabyte at a Time.

    For the second time since I left Silicon Valley, I'm being subsumed by a disruptive process I've grown to hate.

     That process is called "home remodeling" and there's nothing that sets my teeth on edge more. In a nutshell, I'm adding another mast bedroom suite to my house to accommodate my 89 year old mother. When you live on a lot as large as mine, you'd think adding a new bedroom would be a straightforward process. It's not. I've been in the planning stage of this remodel since mid-year and am only just know beginning the demolition phase that's needed to frame the new bedroom suite.

     To maintain my sanity and try to approach the remodel in a systematic fashion, I've created more than a GB of neatly indexed spreadsheets, project management files, blueprints and correspondence between me and the parties involved in the remodel. the file lives on a 2GB flash drive that goes everywhere I do in the almost-always-likely event one of the involved parties calls me on my cell when I'm away from my house with a question or a comment on the project.

     What I've learned about surviving remodel projects is this: it's the little things that can make you crazy and delay your projects by weeks. The current dangling detail is whether or not my septic tanks (which live under a tarmac apron where I mistakenly parked my four-wheel ATV the day the county planning department inspector stopped by) is "traffic rated."

     Turn out, that's not an easy answer to obtain. I had to jack hammer and remove 75 sq feet of asphalt, then dig down, expose and take pictures of the tops of my tanks and then wait for a reply from the inspectors and engineers on whether or not I needed to install heavier tanks.

     Like a long line of cars are going to drive up my one-half mile private road/driveway and then execute a 16-point 180-degree turnaround over my septic tanks when they realized they were lost. Stuff like this makes me so crazy I want o grab my little doggy and run away to the circus.

     but hey, I'm somewhat patient, having lived through six months of remodel foreplay and the end is in sight.

     Almost. But to get there I need to move just about everything I own into two storage pods, and reduce my habitation foot print from seven to three rooms, give up my garage and outside office, and then live in the remaining space. Without going postal. I'm pretty sure I can do this, although it means I'm moving my bed into the den.

     The absolute test of me not going completely nuts was a two-hour meeting with my contractor's interior designer. I was thoroughly prepared for the meeting. I brought down MaForbes for a "San Diego Weekend," took the medicine that should have helped me withstand the conference and cheerfully sat down for the discussion.

     My charitable mood lasted about six minutes. Right up to the point where i realized we were going to focus on "fixtures." After looking at samples of faucets, shower heads, enclosed shower stalls, and other "critical" things I wanted badly to talk about tractors, my little dog, or anything else.

     Truth be told, I would rather have Captain "James The Ripper Hook" examine my prostate than sit through a conversation about plated faucets, stone-like basins, shower benches and the like. It was when they started talking about the price of said "fixtures" that I asked MaForbes if she'd be "OK with a garden hose with a shiny nozzle for your shower?

     Bless her little native daughter of the soil heart, she looked at me with a perfectly straight face and said "of course, Jimmy." I'm sure after hearing the exchange,The interior designer started hearing "Dueling Banjos" in her head.  Perfect!

     With the proper medication even I can get through a tough two-hour meeting.

    The takeaway is that Ma gets a nice bathroom with river stones on its floor (the better for gripping with her tarsier-like toes) and grab bars (for wrapping her prehensile tail around) when she visits the Cave of Running Waters, built in cabinets, a mini-kitchen of sorts, a deck facing my beloved apricot tree and three huge windows with views of the Escondido Valley.    

     Demolition is about to begin and barring another conflagration nearby, She'll be moved in by her birthday in March.

     But between now and then  I'm thinking seriously about buying a surplus FEMA trailer and moving it under a friend's oak trees, across the Hills from Placerville. Hell, I could even use the next three months to top of my knowledge of the California Gold Rush. It's either that or go slowly insane as my life gets reduced to three rooms, my upper garden gets covered over by a huge dumpster and the gophers get more brazen.

     So what do you think, should run away to the circus, or tough it out and take my frustrations out on the local burrowing rodents. My patience, however, has a price: a "While We're At It" addition of a miniature steamboat bridge on top of my roof, with windows that tilt open to let the breezes and my dreams come wafting in, and a couple of good cigars to smoke while I read  Mark Twain and tease my inner redhead. I'm sure MaForbes will approve this change. Maybe...Jim Forbes, California Dreaming on 12/22/2007.