moxie's obsession

for whatever reason, moxie has always loved the laptop; as such, she has developed amazing talents when it comes to utilizing the laptop. 

after sending any unintended or random emails, she enjoys pressing buttons to perform functions that i dare say even the finest of silicon valley's tech gurus could not accomplish if they so wanted.

after such hard work, moxie often takes pleasure in a quality nap with the laptop.

if one of her humans would like to use the laptop, she makes sure that we are well chaperoned.

moxie is a very good dog, and always looks forward to conference on the laptop.

she even enjoys the laptop's company when it's not on.

and finally, just to show that she is not limited to an electronic medium; moxie is also a fan of tolkien.

the kitchen: the saga's outcome

sorry it took so long to post an update--what's a couple years here and there?  so, here are updated pictures of the kitchen for those of you who haven't seen them (apologies for those who have).

More joys of home ownership

Our story so far. . . .

In November 2007, we looked under the kitchen sink and noticed that there was water coming through the sheetrock. It turns out the drainage line had ruptured and water had been seeping out for some time. We initially thought it was a minor problem—we just needed to fix the break and dry it out. Turns out that water had run into the walls and under all of our cabinets and the hardwood floors. Long story short, we had to tear out the entire kitchen. Opening the walls exposed framing and wiring that stunned/horrified the city inspector. Though only some of the framing had water damage, nearly all of the framing had to be taken out because it was so bad. After about a week of work, Candace called to tell me that there was a new disaster: in reframing and re-plumbing, our sewer drain from the kitchen snapped off in the hands of the workers. We had to cut a trench into the slab to go back to a section of pipe that was good. We also had to replace a major conduit into the electrical box because the old conduit was not nearly what it should have been.

Sorry that this has basically turned into a home renovation blog. Just to mix it up, we do have a new dog….

This is the "framing" that was holding up the corner of the house.




















The offending pipe...

A-town v. Ducky's

It's so much easier to write posts when things are going wrong. The bathroom plumbing situation is (hopefully) taken care of and the contractors have been finished for a couple of weeks. Their departure hit home that we finally own a home: before it had felt more like an apartment with contractors and subs coming and going all the time. We even lost our last roommate a week ago. After about a month of visiting, Trey (my parents' dog) packed up his bags and took the long drive to Utah with my mom.

My parents sold their house in about a week and did remarkably well given they bought the house about 18 months prior and we are in a housing "downturn." My mom ending up closing things out on this end (with a little help from her progeny) and only hit one bump in the road: she left her planner at Ducky's Car Wash in San Carlos after having my dad's old car detailed for sale. She left Ducky's around 6:15 (15 minutes after it closed) and returned around 6:20-6:25 when she realized she had left her planner. No one was around when she returned. The planner had ~$400 cash, credit cards, checks, driver's license, etc. Candace and I arrived shortly after and looked in the windows, but the planner was not on the counter. My mom left a message that night and called early the next morning. The manager immediately went on the defensive and also lied about a worker's schedule. My mom went to Ducky's where she talked to the employee who had been working the night prior and the manager. After the employee threatened to call the police on my mom (yes, you read that right) for accusing the employee of stealing the planner (a crime I'm not familiar with), my mom called the police and had them come to Ducky's. The San Carlos police were not very helpful.

Late that night, my mom got a call from Barbara, a neighbor who lives in San Carlos, saying that the Atherton police had found her planner. The Atherton police had stopped a car near our old house with two men who said they had found the planner by the Albertson's (across the street from Ducky's) and were returning it (sans cash and some gift cards.) The officer took the planner, but couldn't contact my mom because her driver's license wasn't up-to-date. The only number they could find was from a check that Barbara had written my mom.

Props to the Atherton police; they solve crimes for current and former residents whether the crime occurred in Atherton or not. A-town!

"Mom!", or The Heiress and the Heirless

Paris Hilton and I had something in common today: when things fell apart, we called for our moms. The only difference is that my mom took care of business and dropped some fools (and I didn't throw a hissy fit.)



We continued to war with Able Home Inspection (I'm using the name to try to warn off any would-be customers) to pay to so that both of our tubs and our shower didn't leak. Song, the Japanese plumber who came out, found a number of problems, including on the hall tub that Able's guys supposedly fixed. His bill was upwards of $900 and included problems with a jacuzzi motor power switch. Ralph from Able told us that we were on the hook for half the bill since the switch was electrical, not plumbing.

Angry and irritated as I drove to work, I called my mom, our realtor on the deal, and sent her to do battle. Despite stonewalling by Able, she got a copy of Song's proposal and reviewed each item on it with Song (I have no idea how she did this over the phone since his English is very limited.) Verdict: ALL of it was related to leaking, including the switch. My mom called Ralph back, and despite his efforts to weasel out, got him to agree to pay in full. . . before I was done with lunch.

Ralph's last throes of denial were saying that we couldn't find an inspection company in the state that would guarantee everything we were getting them to cover--well, they weren't stupid enough to mess with my mom.

Song should come tomorrow to fix all of the leaks. Knock on water-damaged wood, that will be the last of it.

Thanks, Mom! We couldn't have done it without you.


(Oh, and congrats Paris for making our blog--I never thought you'd make it on here. Since you've got some time to think in jail, your koan for the day is Don Henley's lyrical lament: "This year notoriety got all confused with fame.")

WATER!

Things were clipping along nicely on the remodel when we hit a small snag. With most of the upstairs finished, the contractor was ready to put the downstairs ceilings back. He asked us to do one more water test of the shower and tubs before we did. Monday night, we filled the master tub and shower up to their overflows and ran the various whirlpool jets. Water went all over our living room floor from both. This was particularly disturbing because during escrow we had paid a home inspector that the sellers’ agent highly recommended to certify that these fixtures didn’t have leaks.

I called the home inspection company, Able Home Inspection, and told them about the problem. The next morning they called to say they were sending an inspector out. Two guys with little to no English ability showed up to water test. El Gordo went upstairs and turned on the hall bath (which we hadn’t even gotten to testing yet.) El Bajito stayed downstairs with the Dewalt flashlight he could barely hold up. After approximately 10 seconds, he turned to me and said, “No leaks.” I told him that he needed to fill it to the overflow drain before he could be sure. He shook his head and said “No leaks.” I spoke more slowly this time, asked him if he knew what an overflow was, and used hand gestures to indicate that the water needed to rise to the level of the overflow. “Yes, overflow. No leaks.”

At this point, I called the office and told them these guys didn’t seem to know what they were doing. Ralph indignantly told me that this was what these guys did every day and that they were perfectly capable--I guess he asked them when he picked them up from the Home Depot parking lot. I told them they hadn’t even filled the tub to the overflow; Ralph told me he would call them. El Gordo and El Bajito then got on the phone, but still seemed utterly lost. So, I filled the hall tub myself. Shortly after the water got up to the overflow drain, El Bajito came to tell me that the hall tub was leaking and Able was sending an inspector out (which is amusing since these guys were supposedly inspectors.) Now I have three leaky fixtures. El Gordo and El Bajito then went and sat on the lawn for two hours waiting for the inspector.

Ralph called me and said that his company NEVER worked with whirlpool tubs. I told him that they had water-tested and certified both of our tub and shower, both of which have jets. He said that was impossible because they never did that kind of stuff. I told him that I had the final copy of his report that said there were no leaks. He said that was too bad, they were only going to fix the hall bath overflow. I verged on going nuclear: we paid $500 to have these guys certify no leaks and had bought the house based on that. But, every fixture they guaranteed leaked. They had even given us an estimate for putting the sheetrock back in place.

Two more “inspectors” showed up and the four of them fixed the issued with the hall tub overflow. They then left saying they weren’t going to fix anything else, even though at least some of the problems were basic plumbing, not the whirlpool jets.

I called my mom (who had been our realtor) and put her on the case. Then I talked through options with my contractor and dad. Basically, we decided we were going to have to get the thing fixed ourselves and then sue. Late in the day, Ralph called to say he was turning the case over to Don, the company owner, and that my mom had left a “stern” message. Candace and I both took heart at this because it was the first time it seemed like something had rattled Able.

The next morning, my mom called to say that Don had called her. Don had talked with the sellers’ agent, Anne, who said that the buyers (i.e., Candace and I) had told Able only to water test it up to a point. My mom told him this was ridiculous: why would a buyer ask that something not be fully tested? Don said it sounded a little weird, but said it was what he had heard. Regardless, out report had no qualifiers or limitations on it—it said the units didn’t leak. My mom got Don to admit Able was going to have to pay to have this fixed and Able sent over an affable, elderly Japanese man who is apparently an independent plumber. He spoke very limited English, but seemed to understand plumbing and wanted to take a methodical approach. These are both big steps up from El Gordo and El Bajito.

The plumber returned Thursday. Within a couple of hours he was stunned to note at least four leaks and he was still testing.

To be continued. . .

"A Government of Laws and Not [Garbage] Men"*

Here are a few pictures post-demolition. It was about this point that we turned things over to our contractor.

The stack of debris is probably twice this big despite us trying to throw away everything possible. We had a little showdown with the Sunnyvale garbage company the first week when they left all of our garbage. The note I found blowing across our lawn said our cans had construction material, were too heavy, were the wrong size, etc.

I called up the company and was told they didn't take concrete. Great, because there wasn't any concrete, just drywall pieces. Then they said they wouldn't take drywall or any construction materials, despite this not being on the website. I then talked with a supervisor. She said they DID take up to 200 pounds of drywall in the biggest can. I told her that our cans were within the posted weights. Her reply was that they wouldn't take it, regardless of the weight, if the garbage man thought he would hurt himself lifting it.

What happened to the rule of law? If you post maximum weights, that should be the standard, not the garbage man's subjective take on weight. After discussing this at some length, they agreed to send a special run to get our cans, but cautioned that they wouldn't be taken if too heavy. We used another can to reduce the load of the initial cans and waited. Not surprisingly, the garbage man who showed up was an elderly gentleman with white hair and mustache. He ambled over to the can, looked at it, and, without touching it, decided it was too heavy. He told C he wouldn't take them because they were too heavy for him when C raced out to meet him. CANDACE then carried the cans to the truck and threw them in. Apparently guessing weight by sight alone is in the job description, but lifting is not, and our "Unlimited" garbage pickup plan is DIY.

*John Adams, Massachusetts Constitution, Part The First, art. XXX (1780).