no building code in 1906

Our remodel is basically a rebuild. We've filled all the concrete blocks in the foundation with concrete, we've added about 12 new columns and beams in the crawl space and added these huge goddam metal brackets that are designed to hold the house down in case of an earthquake.
What baffles me is just how did this house survive 104 years on this earth without these code upgrades?
The project moves on. More progress photos to come.

Opinions are like assholes - everyone has one, and they all stink

I'm by myself often. It probably explains why I think too much about stuff. I like to write and would like to become better. I've had 'writer's block'. I don't know what that is but if it means you just don't give a fuck about writing sometimes that's what I have. I'm sorry about using expletives here, but at my age using them in a sentence is the closest I will come to ever having the actual experience again. (Being fucked as a tax payer doesn't count.)
I'm sitting here tonight watching Glen Beck. Just finished The O'Reilly Factor. I discovered that it is better to watch these programs with the sound on mute. Why, you say - why on earth are you watching these programs? Well, I'll tell you. I'm going to Kansas next week for my 45th high school reunion. I feel I must prepare myself for the immersion back into Fox Network Land. I grew up with these values, but they have worn thin out here on the left coast (that's the oh, so clever way the west is described by those in the heartland). My old values drilled into my psyche throughout childhood have eroded out here. I still harbor virulent hate for those who are not exactly like me, but it has receded pretty far back after 30+ years.
So I am preparing myself for a two week stint in the heartland and an existence with family gathered around the sacred Fox Box every night after dinner where we will engage in lively facist conversation and what to do with the liberals, blacks, gays, chinks and kykes fouling the system. Grab your coat, get your hat - leave your worries on the doorstep....life can be complete, on the far right side of the street.....
Good night and good luck

new roof sort of

There isn't much left of the original house. We left the front roof because a portion of it is in the front setback. The house was built before the set back became part of the building code. I'm just glad they didn't make us tear down the "illegal" part.

Went out to buy our appliances last weekend. Went by to check on a detail before we actually purchased them and found the store had gone out of business. Just like that. There was a woman standing at the door reading the notice when we came up. She had purchased appliances last week. She's out of luck. Everyone says what a great time to build if you can afford it. Actually, no one has anything in stock anymore. And it's hard to find the simplest things.

My parents grew up in the Great Depression. I missed all that. All those 'good ol' days'. But we have some of our own now. Yeah, we've got our own. Back then I heard much about people helping their neighbors, helping each other. This Great New Depression, however, has a streak of meanness running through it. A great river of hate flowing through the nation. Who the hell am I, to be building this house, when so many have so little?

Sifting through the potsherds

It is somewhat cleansing going through the process of throwing away your files. Our attorney suggests saving any files within 10 years. So, we have been fastidious about that. But I'm thinking, what is the point, really? The whole reason that drives a lawsuit is to win it, NOT to determine the truth. there is no room for truth in our justice system. In fact, it really isn't a 'justice' system, but a 'legal' system. Truth is the LAST thing you want if you're trying to win a lawsuit.
So I'm thinking, why not just throw everything out? I probably will.
I've run across several projects that for some reason all the design sketches were kept. I go through them like an old man looks at early photos of his now grown or deceased children. Why am I so emotionally attached to this shit? I guess that's why I never was a good businessman. I had a heart. Business requires lack thereof. It's why I failed. I tried to help others rather than help myself. And to think I started life as a conservative from the Midwest. Bloodless heartlessness wins every time - Oh, the shame.
Goodnight Pen.

Watching your friend die

I decided to lighten things up from the foibles of house demolition and remodel. My friend is almost dead. Her name is "my career". She has been a friend for all these years, troubled at times, unfaithful at times but an old friend nonetheless. I hooked up with her in Junior high school. She wanted me to come with her on a journey. A quest of trying to find something within myself that remains elusive. Architecture is a cruel maiden. She will not be tamed or held as yours for long. She is fickle and will betray you while yet savoring a kiss. But she is finally leaving me. And I am sad. I was not a worthy suitor and so she goes on. I search to find another love. Goodnight, Pen.

What will go wrong next?

I haven't been keeping this up. I care about this house. I care about it a lot. But it has beat me to shit. The building department has beat me to shit. I suppose there will be some fun in this sometime but right now i just can't see it. I remain manic depressive. I remain unemployed. I spend my days trying to find something for employees to do, figuring out how and when we will finally close the doors, and working on the house. I have never ever felt so low and without hope.
Good night

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