building a garage | Bertram's Blog

Holding Pattern

April 1, 2020 — Pat Bertram

My garage is here. As you can see, it needs to be put together, but who knows when that will be. One of the construction workers is sick and they have to wait for the test results, though I have a hard time believing he has The Bob. What are the odds of one of the five people I have seen in the past two weeks being the only person in the county to have it?

Still, they can’t go by the odds, so we’re all waiting for test results.

When they were going to be here building the garage, they were also going to fix my toilet (the wax ring needs to be replaced) and while the water was turned off, they were going to fix the crumbling plaster wall behind the commode, but that probably won’t happen. They will try to get here fix the toilet, and we’ll try to figure out the safest way to do that (me, being “elderly,” staying away from them, and then disinfecting the bathroom afterward). They would wait if they could, but if the floor rots from all the moisture, they’d have to fix it, and their agenda is full enough.

On the other hand, if I don’t have a toilet, I won’t need toilet paper. (Joke.)

Like almost everyone else, I am in a holding pattern, though I have to admit, it has more to do with a wonky knee than any stay-at-home order. Luckily, the knee has healed enough so I can walk around the house without support from my hiking poles. (The poor things are still in shock from that ignoble use.)

I’m used to waiting, though, so it’s not as if living in a holding pattern is anything new.

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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

Posted in culture, house, life. Tags: building a garage, elderly home repairs, home repairs during a pandemic, leaking toilet, waiting for coronovirus test. 1 Comment »

A Concrete Saga

March 6, 2020 — Pat Bertram

Construction is endlessly fascinating to me. I’d never seen anything as big as a garage foundation poured before so I had to document the process. Besides, what else is a camera for?

I did get a kick out of the guys. They were very gracious about my photo taking, though at one time, one of the fellows asked if I got their good sides. I said I was very circumspect and tried not to get to many photos of them from the back as they were bending over, and he replied, “Those are our good sides.” Then he added, “Too bad. You could have told everyone those were the asses who poured the foundation.” That really made me laugh. Now I wish I had a photo of them from the back so I could tell that anecdote. But you notice, I managed to find a way to insert it anyway.

Here’s the concrete saga:

Now we have to wait a week until it dries, and then the skeleton goes up. Should be fun! For me, anyway.

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Posted in life. Tags: building a garage, concrete floor, concrete slab, foundation for a garage, pouring cement, pouring concrete. 3 Comments »

Cat Photos

February 17, 2020 — Pat Bertram

I’ve read that people online love to look at cat photos, so here are my cat photos.

See? Cat?

Well, I thought it was funny!

And anyway, the Cat was mine for only a couple of hours, and I never even got to drive the excavator! The construction workers did a lot in that short a time — dug the foundation for the garage, and moved the lilacs that were going to be in the way.

Now I just have to keep my fingers crossed that the lilacs will survive, though I’m sure at least some will. With the Cat, they were able to dig down below the root and take up the whole ball of earth.

Things might be at a standstill again. We seem to be in a weird weather pattern — spring every weekend, fall on Monday and Friday, and winter midweek. Although it’s nice to have lovely weather on the weekends, it makes it hard to find a long enough dry time on work days to pour the foundation and allow it to cure. But it’s fun to watch the property change when they do get a chance to work.

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Posted in writing. Tags: building a garage, Cat, cat photo, digging garage foundation, excavator, transplanting lilacs, weird weather pattern. 5 Comments »

Mysteries

January 31, 2020 — Pat Bertram

Editing the murder mystery I’ve been writing for a dinner at the local museum on February 9, seemed as involved as any other editing job. There were a few small inconsistencies to repair, but the main thing I had to do was to add lines so that the characters can introduce themselves. I didn’t want to do a program with the characters and their roles listed, because in a way, everyone who comes to the dinner will have a part — as a visitor to the speakeasy if for no other reason. Those who will be set apart as possible villains, though, will have to have a name, otherwise, how would anyone be able to vote for the dastardliest villain?

Tomorrow will be rehearsal, though mostly it will be a matter of setting up the logistics of the mystery. Although no one but the mistress of ceremonies will have many lines to say, I don’t expect anyone to memorize their parts. (They can if they want to, of course.) For the most part, they just need to know what they are supposed to be doing and how the whole thing fits together.

I’m hoping people will get into the spirit of the thing and not just sit back and watch as the story unfolds, but if people prefer to watch, that’s okay, too.

I feel as if I should be nervous about the murder mystery because after all, the story was my creation, but I’m not. Or at least, not very.

Maybe it’s because so much is going on. Not just meetings and preparing for the dinner and attending the mayor’s strategic planning sessions, but also the house. The excavator should be available for rent sometime next week, so I’ll get to watch a different sort of play unfold — digging the foundation and pouring the cement and whatever else it takes to start building a garage.

I wonder if the dig will uncover some other weird bit of mystery to go along with all the other mysterious artifacts we’ve uncovered, such as the cistern, ancient sewage pipes, water where no water should be, bloody shirts, and a few miscellaneous bones.

Whatever happens, the dig should be interesting!

And so will the murder mystery dinner. If you are in the area, please join us for an evening of food and frolic.

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Posted in culture, life. Tags: 1920s murder mystery, building a garage, garage foundation, mistress of ceremonies, mysterious artifacts in my yard, mystery dinner, writing a murder mystery for a dinner. 3 Comments »

Garage Installation

January 19, 2020 — Pat Bertram

I wasn’t going to write more about my garage until it was actually being built, but I couldn’t pass on using the title of this piece, which is a perfect title because work on the garage is temporarily stalled. (In – stall – ation. Cute, huh?)

The contractor has a few obligations — contract deadlines he needs to take care of now, so that when he starts building the garage, he can do the whole thing without delays. (Oh, wait!! Contracts. Contractor. Now I get it! Sheesh. I sure am firing on all cylinders today.)

Meantime, he and his workers took time from their weekends to finish the part of the side fence that was hidden behind the old garage. (Though they made sure they were done by noon. Something about the Kansas City Chiefs.)

Breaks in a fence seem to attract the very people I don’t want to attract, so it’s good to have the fence finished. I do feel bad, though — the back fence will have to be redone after the garage is built, and it seems a shame that their hard work is going to waste.

But they don’t seem to mind. At least that’s what they tell me. Who knows what they say amongst themselves.

Meantime, I am completely fenced in. I always liked that song “Don’t Fence Me In,” but now that I’m alone in an ever-scarier world, I like fences. I still don’t like other people fencing me in, except, of course, for the workers who actually did fence me in.

The thing about fences is that they have gates, so I’m not truly fenced in, either psychologically or physically. I can always open the gate and leave. Doors are the same way. After Jeff died, people told me, “God never closes a door without opening a window,” which completely ignores the nature of a door — it closes and it opens.

But I’m getting off track.

In the photo above, you can see the recently installed fence on the right, the fence in the back that will have to be redone, and the place where the new garage will go — left of the trench where the sidewalk used to be, but close to the back fence. (You can see where the garage used to be to the right of the trench. The concrete slab used to be in front of the garage.) The lilac bushes along the back fence will have to be moved, but it should be easy for the men to do so using the excavator they will get to dig the foundation for the garage. (Any extra dirt will go to fill in area where the garage used to be.)

Well, now you know more than you ever wanted to know about both the installation and the in-stall-ation of my garage.

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Posted in home, house, life. Tags: building a garage, concrete slab, contractor, don't fence me in, fence me in, God never closes a door, where the sidewalk used to be. 2 Comments »

Living on the Wild Side

January 18, 2020 — Pat Bertram

In National Velvet, Edwina Brown, played by Anne Revere (who quietly stole the movie), told her daughter, “I, too, believe that everyone should have a chance at a breathtaking piece of folly once in his life.” I was taken by that line when I heard it, and have often thought about it during the past years. Such a wonderful thing — to have a chance at a breathtaking piece of folly.

Though not breathtaking by any means — certainly not like winning the Grand National or swimming the English channel or even thru-hiking the Pacific Crest Trail (as I had once hoped to do) — building a garage (or rather, having it built) is truly a folly when you consider that I’m depleting my savings to house an ancient car with a dubious lifespan.

That VW Beetle has already lasted forty-eight years, and though it runs well, there are parts that show its venerable age, such as a cracked dashboard that would cost a fortune in labor to replace, a horn that is taped in place, and a heater that doesn’t work well. (Of course, the heater never worked well, so that’s not exactly a big surprise.)

I suppose it’s possible that the garage will add to the value of this property, even considering the depressed property values here, but since that I plan to live out my days in this house, whatever extra money the garage would bring to the sale of the property would not accrue to me. So yes, definitely a folly.

And yet . . .

Why not? Why not indulge in this bit of foolishness? I’ve always been frugal, so it worries me that in later years I might pay for my folly by being forced into a punishingly strict budget, but for now, why not live on the wild side?

Oddly, I never even knew I wanted a “dream garage.” Though perhaps I should have been forewarned. My parents bought a house that was too big for them in a place they didn’t particularly like because my father fell in love with the immense garage attached to the house. Even though the cavernous space could easily house six or seven VW bugs with room left over, they kept nothing in that garage but a single car. No storage. Nothing. (Well, maybe off in the corner were a few replacement tiles, and the water heater was there, but other than that, nothing.)

After he totaled his car (he passed out because of an undiagnosed heart condition) that garage was completely empty until I brought my stuff to store when I moved in to take care of him. Despite all that, he still found joy in the immense space.

My garage will not be anywhere near as big as his was — because of sewer pipes and gas lines, the widest it can be is fourteen feet — but it will certainly be large enough for my car, storage, the tools I am accumulating, and perhaps a workbench.

In an age where “decluttering” is the thing to do, and at an age where so many others are downsizing even to the point of getting rid of their house (and mortgage), I am upsizing. Cluttering my life with a house and furniture — things I never before had any desire to own.

And now a garage. A garage of my own! Makes me smile to think of it.

That joy alone is worth the price.

So maybe . . . not such a folly after all?

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Posted in home, house, life. Tags: a breathtaking piece of folly, Anne Revere, building a garage, cluttering vs decluttering, folly, living on the wild side, upsizing instead of downsizing. 6 Comments »

Shedding Light on Old Fears

January 16, 2020 — Pat Bertram

Last night I again suffered a bout of fear over growing old alone. I haven’t had such feelings for a long time, partly because I have been living alone and am getting used to it, but mostly because I’ve been keeping my mind away from the inevitable decrepitude of old age, and away from thoughts of being that old lady whose house is falling down around her because she doesn’t have the funds to shore the thing up.

For now, the decrepitude is advancing very slowly, just a matter of knees that don’t bend as well as they did, not being able to walk as far as I once did, and not being able to easily climb up steep stairs without dragging myself along. But bodies do tend to break down, and one day . . .

Yeah, better not think of that day.

It’s odd, though, that the fear last night was of growing old alone rather than the fear of being broke because of all the extra expenses I didn’t expect when I bought this place, such as having to build a new garage. The old one might have lasted for years, maybe even the rest of my life (or the rest of my car’s life) but even though it seemed solid and well built, the shed-like garage had been built on shaky ground. (Probably above an old septic system, which, combined with a high-water table, made the area rather damp.)

The other things that I have had done to the house and property, such as putting in a new foundation for the enclosed porch and replacing the old porch floor, removing diseased trees, and putting up a fence, didn’t really change things that much. It just felt as if I were cleaning up the place.

But a garage is a whole other matter. Erecting a building from scratch seems so much like growing deep roots, as if I were no longer just playing house, but living here for real.

I realize I’ve been here for almost a year, setting down tender and tentative new roots, but building a garage seems like the beginning of a massive root system. Makes settling down — and settling down alone — even more real than it had been. (Besides, all the talk of security that came with planning the garage, such as lights and locks and security cameras, as well as having to be aware of the seedy characters that walk the alley, is enough to feed anyone’s fears of being old and alone.)

Luckily, I’ve made friends, and luckily, the contractor is aware of and considerate of my need to fix things now to make my old age easier, but fears aren’t logical. Or maybe they are logical, and I do have something to fear.

But I won’t — can’t — let myself be afraid.

Today is a new day, and though the sun isn’t shining and the temperature rather cool, it’s bright enough to shed light on that old fear and make it scurry from sight.