Concrete plans

In baking parlance, this would be the crumb coat. Where the cake is smoothed out, but not yet ready for the finish smooth frosting. Since when did I become so food obsessed? The poor guys had to cut little teeny tiny tiles from the giant one.


The tile setter team's items. All neatly set up and stacked in my living room. I'm tempted to put a garage sale sign out front and sell these items.


I spent the morning elbow deep in concrete because the tile guys have been using my pump well as a drain. Scooping and chipping out concrete is not how I want to spend my mornings.

I need to pack.

Chocolate cake

Mmmm.... chocolate. Like building the Hansel and Gretel house. The colors havn't acquired any patina, so they don't match too well. I'm hoping it'll look better in a year. Yeah, everything does remind me of food.


The frosting layers in what is the layer cake of my roof deck. Leveling compound, steel mesh, morter, and then tile. The poor guys that have to haul giant 10lb tiles up and down the stairs. I feel their pain. I still feel their pain from working in Mexico this past weekend.


Smoothed out concrete wall. I hope to see my glass mosaic tile here soon. They've been sitting in boxes since November. But at least my bathroom door is no longer in the shower.


Bathtub, right side up once again. The pain. This thing is heavy. If you look closely at the tub, you'll find a hidden Mickey where the water spout will go.


Door to my heart. Or more accurately, door to my junk drawers. I can't believe I'm living here. When all this is done, I'd have built up so much character for my own sitcom with an ensemble cast.

Smells like concrete

Large tiles downstairs two by two
All laid out straight and true
Joints undone, have my doubt
When they will finish all that grout


Running bond pattern
repeated outside
but it's 2 inches off
when they applied


Ferns with white coating
Too warm to be frost
It's slate dust from cutting
Those tiles of high cost


Crates of stone
down to last one
Still, it's a lot,
weighes like a ton
I hope they are careful,
and measure and cut
I have no more money,
I'll kick their big butt


Stucco now primed,
with some quality primer.
Old world craftmanship
Like from old-timers.


Tub window now opens
Great for fresh air
Good for smelling roses
While shampooing hair


Big fuzzy rollers
remind me of muppets
so squeezably soft,
that I must fluff it.


It smells wet because
Walls now concrete
Still no toilet installed
Oh where to excrete.


Windows open, door removed
I'm freezing my ass off
Must get under blanket
Please no virus, no cough.


Easter bunny showed up this morning.
It's a weird sight to see.
Boy I wish my bathroom was finished.
I'm cold and I need to pee.

Mi casa es su casa

Volunteering in Mexico over the weekend. Building houses.


La Posada. Bunk beds, 8 people to a room. Hostel sleep environment. We had a few snorers this time that waked the dead and caused the dogs around there to yelp in sync. Ear plugs much in demand.


The little white tin death trap car is how I got to Tijuana. We made it there and back a bit rattled, but unscathed. The faded "Practice random kindness and senseless acts of beauty" bumper sticker makes all the difference.


I found Jesus in Tijuana. At the Jesus theme park.


Is Waldo related to Wally?


Big ditch.


Un-molding cast concrete roofing modules.


Don't let this cute neighborhood kid fool you. She's a monster.


Digging footings, setting sand. Antonio, right, patriarch of the family that we worked with this time.


Dog in vest. Muy stylish.


I carried all those concrete blocks. Heavy Heavy Heavy. I will be in pain tomorrow. Getting old.


This disturbs me. There is a dog on one end, and a horse on the other. Neither animal entices me to eat there. I'm guessing the squiggly waves emanating from the doghorsebun thing is supposed to symbolize aroma, but they make me think the doghorsebun thing needs a bath.

Racking my brain

Wonderful Reagan gave me a wind up toy. It hits his head over and over again. I hesitate to ask why this toy reminds him of me.


Tile on the first floor almost ready for grout. I will search for sidewalk chaulk in visitors' pockets before letting them inside. Hooligans. Those friends of mine. Hooligans.


Stucco with finish coat nearly done. They're really working fast again. Hopefully, it'll all be complete soon. I'm so ready for it all to be behind me.


Uh-oh, boo boo. No no. Not diagonal. Up and down. So all the grout joints will line up with the ones on the inside anal retentively.


Yes, like this. Good. That's more like it.


I better not find white foot prints anywhere.


That's not the moon. They're filming on my street again. Road blocked. Dammit. They need to film at my house. I need the money. That light shines all the way inside to my bedroom. I wonder what kind of circuit breaker that light bulb takes. A damned large one. Maybe that's why I can't get power to half my second floor.

Signs of life

Drying out from last week. Finally, construction starting to accelerate once more. Full steam ahead!

A beautiful 80 degree March day today. Decided to go for a lunchtime constitutional outside.


That's me office on the eleventh floor. If you had superman vision and look at the window to the right my office, you will see Aaron waving back at me. He's wearing a green shirt, so his head is the pink smudge amidst the sea of green.


Stick in the mud. Or at least that's what the owner must be. If you had superman vision, you will see that it reads, "PLEASE KEEP YOUR DOG OFF MY YARD. THEY ARE KILLING MY GRASS- CAMERA IS ON." I was tempted to go potty myself on this person's yard. Party pooper.


The lobby to my favorite Warner Bros building. It's interesting only because I'm going to put the same flying saucer light in my kitchen.


This starlet has seen better days. Bad case of psoriasis. Maybe eczema.


Papoo's Hot Dog Show has seen better days too. Maybe Papoo is the culprit making a mess on that crotchety person's lawn. You really can't blame Papoo. Once you get to that age, dogs have trouble holding it all in.


But Bob's, oh Bob's. Still wonderful after all these years. This is the Bob's Big Boy in the National Register of Historic Places. If you had superman vision, you will see that I deliberately cut the picture off at the right because it's next to a Starbucks.


No, the Incredible World of Dic is not a gay porn organization. They're a distributer of animation. Like the PJ's, Inspector Gadget cartoons. Stuff like that. Though, when I was nine years old, and at the end of Inspector Gadget when they said "Dic," I giggled every time. Still do today. Hee Hee Hee.

Let there be light... again

I was resigned to the fact that I'd be a martyr living without electricity to the second floor. Started to romanticize getting back to the basics. Doing without the many trappings of the modern world. Doing laundry in the dark, keeping my activities limited. Time to think, remember what really matters in life. Slow down. I got to finish a few books. I even considered not having a television in the bedroom after all the construction is done.


But as soon as I got home and realized the electrician patched in half of the upstairs into a different circuit. I was immediately off and rotting my brain with VH1 Most Awesomely Badder Hair. Reverted back to sloth and trash tv. All plans to read tonight, pre-empted. Didn't last long. Apparently, the "real me" is very shallow.

Same, but more

A present from the next door neighbors for filling in their holes with dirt. Which has since washed away in the last rain storm. And ironic that this is the same mystery plant under my olive tree that I'm planning on ripping out. But I'm grateful for the sentiment. It's very sweet of them. Maybe I'll invite them over for afternoon tea.


Jimmy's tomato growing a little bit bigger. I will spare you additional pictures of tomato plants that look identical to the untrained eye.


Not much changed in this view. They covered up the chickenwire. Which is awfully strange since we have no need for chickenwire for the stucco anymore. Are they planning on ripping some out to start over?


Beautiful weather, clear skies and views of the Angeles National Forest. Purple mountains. Just like the song.


More tile. Slowly taking over. I've been very good about not stepping on the tiles with tape on them. Hence the difference in color. Tiles are all the same color, the non-marked ones are just full of plaster dust. Note: the second floor is still powered by that yellow extension cord going upstairs. Building inspectors better not be visiting the house any time soon.

Hopscotch, in the dark, with missmatched socks

Bad sock day today. The electricity to the second floor went out again last night. Hella inconvienient. I needed to dress with the aid of photographic memory of my clothes this morning. Mostly sucessful, but the right sock is a slightly lighter color than my left sock. I tried. I really did.


Window to nakedness. No curtains planned for this window. When I take a bath, my ass will be on display for all to see.


Growing bigger. Slowly. Actually, those tiles weigh about ten pounds each. So progress as expected. Glad I'm not man-handling these in place. My delicate fingers.....


Blue tape denoting which ones not to step on. I'm tempted to draw numbers on it and play hopscotch. In my missmatched socks.


Giant kitty litter covered up with another rainstorm in progress. Sick of rain.


Down to three crates of slate tile.

Giant slate tiles.
Slippery, heavy, and wet.
Fingerless tile guy.