Whimsical Dreams and Schemes

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Wow! The image below has been circulating like a wild fire in So. California. I saw it over at Goddess's place (she's in my links!) and also received two higher resolution versions from the Katlady and my brother all within hours. I am truly smitten with this image and not in the least offended that I was a 'must copy' on it. It doesn't look like a photo-shop wonder either but a genuine 3D project since it incorporates our beloved shipping containers (I'll do a post just on that some day, too). There was an eccentric structural genius at work here. Better still, the designer has displayed a certain defiance and disdain of decorum acceptable to even middle class society. In other words, I am absolutely in LOVE with it. Given the chance to tour a Guggenheim exhibit or this place, you know what my choice would be. Can't you just see this arrangement creeping up the back wall of our mesa behind the Rat? Don't kid yourself, the Anasazi would have done the same thing at Mesa Verde if they had access to cheap rat trailers, shipping containers, scrap iron, cranes and welding equipment.
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This got me to thinking about our delayed Rat Town project again. The thaw and the muddy state of the roads have postponed the delivery of our two 14'x36' buildings indefinitely and I won't say that the delay has not discouraged me somewhat. My antidote is to dream on, as it always has been. I have forever created complex micro worlds in the process of waiting on promises and prospects, most of which never materialized. It eventually became the creative thought process which mattered most; a realized, completed project became almost anticlimactic after a few decades of dreams lost.
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And so I dredged up a front-on view of the Rat (above) to impose my imagination upon, the two new buildings already in place in my visions. Not two overgrown and glorified potting sheds but two edifices to meld into my eccentric and whimsical 'big picture'. Yes, a very curious outpost in the middle of no man's land, something that will make the rare lost traveler grin and wonder.
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It took considerable time to browse the Net for inspiration but I finally found some images which I could electronically beat into submission to form my otherwise very loose master plan (above). Since Slim and cowboy company liked the idea of an Old West Saloon, this was the grit around which my outrageous pearl would form.

The new buildings will stack up at a right angle to the Rat's front facade to form one continuous road face. We did not resurface the front face of the Rat and will not until we see where this wild hair of a plan is going. Ideally, the road-facing side of each new building will sport two or more distinct pseudo store fronts . What you see above is strictly a concept, much the way concept cars never meet the road in production numbers but it gives you a very rough idea at least.

It was an idea fermenting well before our arrival and, unfortunately, the many wonderful antique architectural details that I had been scrounging up in the Midwest were left behind thanks to the nature of those people to take advantage of our time and logistics predicament (oh no, no residual animosity, of course, but may they drown and then rot in Hell, the whole bloody lot of them). You just don't mess with my dreams.

What items we were able to salvage will not produce the vignette above but it is a start at least. It will be many, many years before we can find more architectural touches to complete a whimsical Old Western facade to our liking but the quest will keep me invigorated and inclined to venture into civilization more than once a year. The thrill, the lust of the hunt has not been officially abandoned yet.
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Why I Despise Plumbing Work

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The "P" word (that dreaded catch-all category for anything that involves movement of clean or dirty fluids) is a leading cause of insanity. I will explain why. The word 'plumbing' came to us from the Latin word for lead. We know that the Roman civilization existed slightly before the EPA Empire and so they piped all their water around via lead pipe and even made drinking cups from lead. Some have gone so far as to suggest that lead poisoning from their plumbing was a major contributor to the eventual decline of their Empire. I happen to agree that their plumbing was a major factor although I believe that dealing with any aspect of plumbing, be it in lead, copper, iron or plastic, will cause or encourage complete insanity. Please proceed with that premise in mind.

Somewhere in mid-January, Mark chipped away the ice and removed one of the Rat's skirting panels. The reason at the time was to allow the new warm air to infiltrate the underbelly of the Rat and hopefully thaw out the plumbing which had already left us without running water for the last two weeks. A glorious prospect indeed!

I made the fatal mistake of stooping down to survey the creepy-crawly space. I saw ... I heard .... dripping. At that point, I should have discreetly loaded my bags into the Dakota and left for parts yet to be determined. Perhaps the roads were impassible that day, I don't remember now. Perhaps I was simply in denial with a warped pioneer stubbornness and masochism. Whatever that was matters not; I felt compelled to crawl into that void beneath the Rat to find the cause of the dripping. The water piping had held its own against the subzero weather, it was the drain system which chose to let loose.

Since I am the far more compressible into three or for segments to work under the Rat and the only one still marginally able to see in the dark, I choose at that moment to retreat and declare the drains off-limits until further notice. I needed time to think and form some sort resolve, intestinal fortitude ... something, anything. In the meantime; no water in, no water out.

There was a time when I was an erect-walking Homo Sapiens of the full basement clan. No, I was not fond of plumbing duty even back then but I did not have the oppressive dread of it that I possess now. Folding, crawling, crouching and laying in the mud of disconnected drain discharge has somehow let my disdain bloom fully. Fergawdssake, I don't have much of an immune system on a good day.

A week after the discovery, I made one more exploratory, armed with a tube of silicon just in case some quick fix might present itself. I did locate part of the problem (which I optimistically presumed to be the entire problem, of course). After scrunching around into position, I grabbed hold of the culprit drain pipe. It, in turn, launched a splendid counter attack and squarely dumped a cup of filthy gray water directly into my ear which was invitingly sideways at the time. I will not include the dissertation which followed at great volume but it set every creature within 100 yards of the Rat on high alert. I retreated to the upper Rat, flooded my ear canal with hydrogen peroxide and hoped for the best.

Just like Red, I tend to ruminate and consider all the aspects and consequences of a project until just before Hell freezes over. While Mark loves us both dearly, this is not one of the traits which compels him to do so.
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And so we lived like this for several weeks until yesterday, my next big day of resolve. Mark performed the customary 'freeing of the panel' ritual and I laid out a large piece of plastic which I hoped would be my prophylactic shield against the scum of the earth.
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The sodden forest of mold to the outer edge of one central I-beam told me that I needed to remove the glorified cardboard insulator. I dug in a carpet knife and incised the soggy matting away. That, in turn, released putrid streams of standing water down upon me. The empty kitty litter bucket in the bottom of the photo above was able to capture most of the remaining stream. It also served as a good repository for the wet pink insulation and multi-colored slime that I grabbed down by the messy handful. Then I retreated to let everything drain further - by George, it was Miller time already.
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My target? Right beyond that blackened floor stud showing in the middle of this foul incision. This is where the drain took a right angle up into the Rat. I wasn't about to take a photo looking straight up and chance having that crud leak down on me.
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Above is the other end of my mission on the inner side of the I-beam (marked with a yellow arrow). Mark, in the interim, had removed the bathroom sink and performed considerable drain rearrangements which ultimately led to a little more reasonable length of pipe poking through the floor for me to work with down under. I still managed to drive a knee and elbow into the dodgy ooze and dust the cobwebs and other unidentified flotsam off with my hair but was able to avoid a good buzz from the plastic cement. Not that unholy benediction moments did not occur but with some charlie horse spasms and a little luck, the wayward drain found its mating ends and seemed to hold in place.

Close enough for one day! I scrambled out 'from unda' and declared Miller Time Two. So far, so good! (?) My advice is to avoid plumbing issues at all costs - it is a serious detriment to both physical and mental health. This is one case where you do not wish to 'Do as the Romans'.

Now make sure to come back tomorrow for your Valentines greetings from all of us out here at the ranch!
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C-o-o-l, c-l-e-a-r water ... WATER !

Story time line: Late April to present

As promised on his last field visit, Virgil came through for us and returned on his own time to help us with the dreaded plumbing rework to correct that last numbing bit of craftsmanship left by the Handyman from Hell. Without his help, neither of us were going to get around the stroke-inducing memories of that fiasco. And so that day held exciting prospects beyond few others out here to date. I awaited anxiously for the check-in call saying "We're only a half hour away right now."

When they finally arrived (a half hour seeming like an eternity), they did not come to the door as expected but went right to the work site at the rat's rear. Wot!? Such serious intent? We'll have none of that here! I ran the inside length of the trailer and exited out the rear door to head them off. I grabbed the cordless drill on the way out and lay in wait behind the metal 'doghouse' which we had recently lowered into place with the skid steer. Virgil rounded the corner first and I mowed him down quite effectively with the drill ... Grishzzzzzzzzzzz!!!! Well, he was no fun at all and kept on walking even though I knew that I had scored a direct hit on this invader of Billy the Kid's secret hideout. But wait! There is one more invader to be dealt with! I hunkered down again and sprang up in full blaze as his wife rounded the corner. Grishzzzzzzzzzzz!!!! Grishzzz!!!! Grishzzz!!!! I wasn't about to take any chances this time, nosiree. It just had to be done.

Now maybe some would consider such things as "Ewwww, like so totally sophomoric, you know?" but then again, I never signed any contract saying that I would grow old gracefully either - or even sanely, for that matter. And there's something satisfying about making younger folks wonder if their own parents are like this when they are not around. My reward for all this foolishness was a sighing reprimand from Matty as she restrained a patient grin and said "Sigh ... oh, Lin, you-are-SUCH a little kid ...." Some moments just don't get any better than this, seeing that adorable ever-patient little face in chastise mode. I can see why Virgil is completely sold on her, I really can.

It wasn't long before Virgil, being the no B.S. kind of guy he is, surveyed the situation through the skirting panel we had just removed, donned his Carharts and disappeared under the rat for serious business. Matty remained content to browse through her school supply catalogs on the back steps nearby, soaking up a good sunburn in the process.

Soon we heard "Oh man, I can't believe he did this ... what a complete doofus!" issue forth from the dark under belly of the Rat. But there were no real surprises for us in his findings. It would figure that the Handyman from Hell had reduced the 3/4 inch supply line that he made such a dog and pony production over down to 1/2 inch well BEFORE the branch-offs to the kitchen bath and laundry occurred. But we knew deep down that more inane practices would be revealed in time.

The best we could do now was to hover by the opening in the skirting and toss him tools and supplies as he needed them. It was a sheer and envious pleasure to watch his lithe, young frame squeeze by UNDER the rat axles - something that neither of us could accomplish with our latter day bulges.

While the remainder of the system set-up was not ideal, by the end of that day, we had gen-you-wine running water in the rat. We celebrated over the lunch which THEY had brought and then with a Chez Rat supper. And Virgil reminded me that he got one of our private property mulie hunting passes for the effort. Now just hoping that he might share a backstrap or a round roast if he gets lucky this Fall.

With Virgil's absolutely crucial part in the scheme completed, we could now seal the skirting back up and proceed with the foundation for the proposed addition. This was a glorious step forward. The photo shows that momentous progression.

Click on photo for larger image

To be continued!

RE: Siding, Re-Siding and Residing at the Rat

Da Moose, Red, et al continually remind me to post photos of our rat re-siding project. They're right, this has been a major step towards civility and economic sustainability here. Why I have waited this long to present the status of this project is beyond me - perhaps due to not having finished the window and door trimming. It will look great if I ever get around to that final touch, however, just don't hold your breath, okay?


Click on image for larger view

We hadn't been moved into the rat for more than 24 hours before we realized that something had to be done to stop the wind and the cold air from infiltrating. While this trailer had probably been state of the art efficiency 35 years ago, both time and technology had long since advanced. We even got a good laugh out of the surviving climate zone (-50 F) certificate in the old furnace closet. Admittedly, the trailer had full 2x4 stud walls stuffed with pink insulation. If you are thinking about buying a cheap rat, do yourself a favor and get one with at least that much going for it. I kid you not, we had carefully diced our way through a number of rat trailers with 2x2 walls - don't even think about those jobbies. This one at least had the big 'P' (Potential) going for it in that regard.

The detractors of the rat were that it had 3/8 plywood paneling on the interior walls and a beer can thick coating of aluminum on the outside and the place leaked air like a bicycle tire in a prickly pear patch. Since it was winter by the time we settled in, we started with the cozy fixes on the interior; putting up drywall here and there and re-securing and caulking the original paneling where needed. Even that helped immensely as far as the number of 20 pound propane tanks we were going through although we still sequestered ourselves into just the living room and kitchen area that first winter. You'd better like each other's company before trying this however. Even Slim testified that he doesn't doubt that this same scenario led to a divorce in his case. So be forewarned.

During the following summer, we started skinning the rat. The aluminum siding was tacked on here and there with hex-head screws and innumerable staples but it was easy enough to take down in ten to twenty foot sections at a time with the help of tin snips to define the cut-off points where necessary. In the process, we eliminated two leaky old doors; one to the now defunct water heater closet and the original side egress. And good riddance. They were nothing but wind and bug liabilities anyway. The hard part was deciding which old windows and doors would stay and where new windows and doors needed to be framed in and installed.

Once the framing issues had been addressed, Mark began infilling each stud center with a precisely-fitting piece of one inch styrofoam over the existing fiberglass insulation. I was impressed since they managed to stay in place even with the high winds ripping by before we could proceed to the next step.

The game plan was to do one complete side at a time and then wrap over the entire side with Tyvec before beginning to install the new exterior paneling. The strategy worked very well, too (sometimes our plans DO NOT work as envisioned). We cut and installed stepped flashings both above and below the paneling as we went and this has paid off nicely in terms of avoiding moisture infiltration.

When the last panel was in place, we painted the paneling. This paneling proved to be a nice material to work with. They're 4'x8' particle composite sheets with a deeply embossed weathered barn board effect which took the paint very well. For the color, I took an average of various pieces of weathered board that we had salvaged for our fencing. If I decide to get fussy at a later date, I will go back and highlight the embossing with a nearly black stain. But, you know what, it looks just fine at the moment and may stay that way forever. As an acquaintance used to say repeatedly "I may be young and ambitious but not THAT young and ambitious." And that was uttered 30 years ago. My former anal perfectionism has mellowed considerably over those intervening years.

Being both pragmatic people, our biggest pleasure in completing the siding project was in being able to expand into the rest of the trailer without any increase in heating costs. The difference was remarkable, in fact. Now that we are entering hot weather again, the benefits seem just as remarkable in terms of heat infiltration. This has definitely become one of our most cost-effective efforts so far.

Next stage: working towards running water in the rat.

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Appropriate humor of the week:

What's the difference between a divorce in Arkansas and a tornado?

There is no difference. One way or the other, somebody's gonna lose a trailer.