This last year was a big one for me in one major way: it was a redefinition of my professional existence. Since the end of 2009, I’ve transformed from a professional manager to a … hmm … well, my title (however formal it needs to be) is “Solutions Lead”, but that belies a lot of what I do every day, and just using “web developer” or “programmer” — even with a “Senior” prefix — completely understates the reality. This year was really about taking all the skills and knowledge I’d acquired as a leader, and merging that back into my day-to-day development practices.

And that, as the saying goes, was only the tip of the iceberg…

I did a LOT of work. I did so much, in fact, that my contracting business is gone. Doors closed, windows shut, lights off. Permanently. I had to make a very painful call to realise that I need to focus on the three most important things in my life: my family. (There’s three of them, in case you were wondering.) To focus on them means to remove all other distractions inasmuch as is possible, and still earn a paycheque along the way (helping to support said family, of course).

Add to that Alex’s return to work after nearly four years off as a Professional Mom, working evening shifts. That meant more time as a Professional Dad, whether I liked it or not. (And I like it, really. Except for dinner time. Suddenly, I have nothing but sympathy for my parents when I was a kid.) It’s adjustment, it’s growth.

As a result of all of this, many things suffered. My hobbies (what few I have) were shelved — even my desire to blog waned dramatically, with more than a couple of blogless months. My TV watching fell to an all-time low, and I can count on one hand the number of movies I saw in the theatre (coincidentally, also the number of movies I watched during the Christmas break at home through iTunes). My health has also been … unattended, with a noticeable increase in girth and an unhealthy increase in my beer consumption (since decreased, thankfully).

But if you were to ask me if I was “unhappy”, I’d have to say “no”. Every day, my kids remind me why I’m proud to be their dad. Every day, I get a challenge in my job. Every day, I enjoy life, even if it’s only for a few moments. To say I’m “unhappy” would be a disservice (if not an outright insult) to my daily existence, and those around me.

To that end, I can safety state that I’ve:

• Been into Banff National Park on a few occasions — both warm and cold — but nowhere near enough for my liking
• Picnicked as much as we could, but again nowhere near enough for what we could have done
• Enjoyed the first brew from Calgary’s new Village Brewery
• Did some renovation work in the kitchen (and planned more renovation work for this year)
• Retaught myself the fundamentals of being a (web) developer, and merged that with the skills and knowledge of a technology director
• Lamented as I saw Choo Choo seem to grow by leaps and bounds, going from my little baby girl to a walking, talking toddler
• Finally accepted the truth, and got glasses
• Came to understand my father in ways I never thought possible, and really wished that he could be here today to see how his son (kinda) grew up
• Accepted the reality that I will only ever be a father of two beautiful girls — there will never be a third offspring
• Watched in horror as Canada succumbed to fear mongering and elected a government that refuses to listen to its own people (a terrifyingly global trend in 2011)
• Mourned the loss of one of Canada’s best politicians since Pierre Trudeau, the Honourable Jack Layton
• Experienced my first general anesthesia to get my hernia repaired … boy, I do not want to go through that again!
• Drank way too much coffee (yes, folks, that is possible)
• Similarly, also drank too much beer (yes, also possible, though admittedly it tasted really good at the time)
• Launched more projects in one year than I had launched during my busiest five years (combined) at my previous company
• Took Monkey on the SUPER SECRET MONKEY SURPRISE — a short trip on CP 2816
• Took Monkey to the Stampede, and realised to my delight (or possible horror, not sure yet) that she loves rides, especially roller coasters
• Also got the Mother of All Headaches while at the Stampede…
• Travelled to Ontario to visit with my family
• Spent a lot of time swimming in the lake with Monkey and my nieces
• Rode another steam train in Huntsville
• Visited with some old and dear friends (especially Stuart and Therese)
• Celebrated Monkey’s 4th birthday, and Choo Choo’s first birthday
• Also rode on the Heritage Park steam train
• Travelled to Red Deer to see the Backyardigans live (oh, the things parents must do…)
• Travelled once again to the West Coast for post-Christmas and New Year’s celebrations

I’m sure there’s other stuff I did, but my blog was so light on content in 2011 that … well, I’m not sure. Sure, I can try to read Twitter, but I used that in lieu of my blog, so there’s a few thousand tweets I’d need to go over. That’s a little too much. So if I’m making any resolution this year, it’s to write more blog posts.

Our first winter in the house, we used that fancy shrink plastic to improve the draft-factor. To a degree, it helped, but the rooms still felt cold. Last winter, the rooms were outright frigid. And after Choo Choo’s window displayed signs of mould, Alex and I started talking much more seriously about replacing the windows not as part of a larger renovation, but for a sense of urgency.

Urgency finally arrived today. And boy, do they look spiffy!

Believe it or not, they’re Sears windows. No, not Kenmore — just arranged through Sears Home Services, which covers a surprisingly wide array of home improvement needs. In this case, estimators who come out to see what you need, arrange for local contractors to do the work, and order the windows through a Kelowna company called NAD.

Windows, for the record, aren’t fun. They’re extremely expensive (some new cars cost less), and choosing the right style and model can produce some serious hand-wringing. Do you have hung windows? Sliding? Casement? Awning? Each has their own advantages, as well as increases in cost. Double-pane? Triple-pane? And do you keep the same size, or do you make the windows bigger?

What we had naively thought would be a 30 minute conversation stretched to nearly two hours as we wandered through what seemed like countless options. (And never mind colour. That’s another ballgame. We went with white, by the way, for sheer simplicity.) Part of it was Alex and I arm-wrestling for window size — I’d wanted an increase, to improve the light situation, where Alex just wanted to replace the things and get on with life. I’d grown up with huge windows in my bedroom, so I’m very partial to large windows. In the end, we compromised on the kids’ rooms — each got windows 12″ taller.

Earlier this week, I got a call from Walter, the installer, who said the windows had arrived (much earlier than we’d expected, I might add — we were told “November”), and could he come on Thursday and Friday to install? Frankly, I wasn’t too keen on being home again this week (I was already at home yesterday awaiting a new stove delivery — that’s another story), but it seemed like the right thing to do.

Sadly, the “right thing” ended up being “too busy to do my job” (there is a certain fallacy that working from home is more productive than at an office), as I spent a fair bit of time roaming up to see how the work was progressing. But first things, first…

The first crew arrived just after 10:00. Yes, first. Due to a cancellation, we ended up with two crews at the house, all of them scattered about on pretty much every window at once. That was an unexpected twist, since we’d planned for two days, and expected just the kids’ rooms to be done today. (Good news: the work is done. Bad news: had to spend more time getting the other rooms ready.)

The first window out was actually the ensuite, since it’s the smallest and easiest to get at. While one guy tackled that window, two guys were working on the kids’ rooms. For that, they had to cut open part of the wall (remember, they’re 12″ taller, now), including cutting off the stucco on the outer wall. (One bonus of the work — it proved definitively that there is actually insulation in the walls.)

By the time the first of the kids’ windows were out, the ensuite and master bedroom windows were fitted into place, shimmed and all. Alex and the kids (and I) had retreated to the basement to stay warm (the basement has a separate heating system; the upstairs heat was shut off to keep the furnace from running constantly). The largest window — the living room — was the last to come out, and remained out for the better part of two hours, leaving the upstairs in a veritable deep-freeze (it was quite cool in Calgary today).

It wasn’t long before the interior trim was set on the bedrooms, and the living room window was shimmed in. It started to feel more homey. With the insides complete, the exterior casing was installed (with a healthy dose of spray insulation between the house framing and the window) and caulked for each window.

As the job started to wrap up, the second crew headed off, leaving the first guy who arrived, and Walter (the crew chief, and primary casing installer, it seems). The two of them finished of the rest of the work, departing shortly after 17:00. But before they left, the Monkey had to tell one of them “thank you”, for she could now see out her window (while standing on her bed, mind you). She seems quite happy about that.

Already the house seems much better, as the old windows not only looked tired, but were quite cold. The new windows are cool to the touch (it’s cold outside, remember?), but not freezing. The draft is considerably less (I hesitate to say “eliminated”), and hoo boy does it look a stinkload better.

The best part? The all open. That was a requirement. I hate windows that don’t open. Security aside, my biggest beef is when we can’t get airflow through the house. Next summer, windows will be open a lot!

The only problem now? We need new curtains.

Sigh.

Okay, so here’s the before/after shots. (‘Cuz you know I just can’t let this post go without one.)

Kids’ rooms:

Master/Ensuite (and in progress!):

Living room (and during!)

I’d hoped today’s job would go reasonably quickly. After all, I don’t want to spend the entire day tearing things apart (although it is terrible fun) and putting in new things (admittedly, rarely ever as much fun), when I could be … well, doing other things.

But I digress…

As you might have read, on Monday past, Alex and I had bought lights for the kitchen. Installing them wasn’t straight-forward, mostly because the Florida ceiling had to first come down. After our weekly visit to the Calgary Farmer’s Market, I got down to the job of destruction.

I like destruction. It’s … cathartic.

Taking down the Florida ceiling revealed a few things. First, the diffusers that made up most of the ceiling actually blocked a fair amount of light (we’d taken them down last weekend, mostly to see what kind of mess we were getting into, and it almost felt like we were getting a tan when the lights were on). Second, the lights had been manufactured in 1982, which likely meant the ceiling went in about the same time. Third, the guys who installed the ceiling cut a number of corners to get it done (wiring exposed, no proper wire clamps). And finally, my personal favourite, they used the ceiling to cover the fact that they hadn’t bothered to paint over the original ceiling colour (a teal, since you asked).

The Florida ceiling had four basic parts: the wood lattice frame (by far the most attractive and well-built part of the ceiling), the diffusers, the light fixtures (15 double-tube fluorescent lights), and a whack of wooden strapping to give a place for the lights to be held to the ceiling. The lattice came down not too badly, the lights in an huge bunch, and the strapping with a crowbar.

By 14:00, the kitchen was a mess. It was another hour before it was in a state for the next step — hanging the new light. The new light is a combo pot light/pot rack. Pulling the new light out of its box, it was clear I needed to make another trip to Rona — I needed an octagon box, and a pair of heavy-duty hooks to hold the rack.

I know what you’re thinking — shouldn’t the rack have come with the hardware to actually hang? Well, kind of. The “hardware” they provided was a reinforced mounting plate that would hook into a normal octagon box (though the manufacturers also recommend you reinforce the octagon box), and then hang from that point. My issue is that we wanted to actually put the pot rack to use — awfully darn hard to use it when it’s not well-secured.

Shortly after 16:00, the hooks were starting to go into the ceiling. #6 gauge, 5/16″ threading, and about 4″ long. More than enough to hold up this wee beastie, I thought. Sure enough, a test hang proved that the mounting was good. Next came a hole cut into the ceiling to install the octagon box. That’s when we had the next big surprise…

Wood chips. Actually, wood shavings. Insulation. Old stuff. I’d never seen insulation like that before. It poured out of the hole, and all over the island, and into the sink. Thankfully, I saw pink fibreglass insulation above it, so I wasn’t as worried. Soon the box was in, and there was only one thing left to do — have a fibreglass bath.

I’d crawled around in the attic in the house I grew up in a few times, following my dad up into the space to do a number of different things. So going up into our attic didn’t really worry me. I found very quickly that, unlike my childhood home, I couldn’t walk (crouched) in our attic — I had to crawl. And I barely fit under the wooden struts. There’s not a lot of room in that attic.

I found the wires I’d pushed up from the kitchen, and spliced on new wiring for the pot lights. I also threaded new wiring to three repurposed fluorescent lights that now rested on top of the cabinets, to provide some general lighting from above (the potlights are directed onto the island — there’s not a lot of spillage). Even with a mask, long sleeves, heavy jeans, and a tucked shirt, I felt horrible the entire time. (A hot shower helped, but I still feel itchy.)

I took an hour break, having dinner and watching Ice Age with the family (it’s movie night), resuming once the kids were in bed. The hookup went well, and soon the potlights were lit. About thirty minutes later, the above-cabinet lights were working, too.

The kitchen now looks and feels a lot better. I think a lot of that is because the ceiling has been raised, and the extra space makes the kitchen feel more open. I also far prefer the indirect lighting that isn’t nearly as bright as it was (I’m dead certain our power bill should drop as a result). The ceiling, sadly, looks like crap now, but we’re going to hire someone to put in a knock-down ceiling to match the one in the dining room.

Another step down…

But that’s a long time away. We’re talking a major improvement, which we can’t afford right now. So we’re going to start with the room that bothers Alex and I most — the kitchen. It’s too small, dark, and frankly doesn’t work well for us. (That, and I’m constantly comparing to our home in Garrison Woods, which had a kitchen that I loved.) As the saying goes, you gotta start somewhere.

So I threw out the sink.

The old sink bothered us. It was a yellowing, easily-stained double sink made of porcelain (so I discovered when I lobbed the piece of junk into the backyard) that we constantly struggled with. It was never quite big enough, and we were always cleaning it — ALWAYS. Just not attractive. The faucet was total garbage and needed to be replaced anyway. It was high on our list of “must do” items.

It was also one of the ones I could start on first. The lighting is also quite doable, though the Florida ceiling will require most (if not all of) an entire day to rip out and replace. The sink, at least, I could do in an evening, if I had all the right parts. That was part of our first trip out to the Rona yesterday morning.

The trip, sadly, quickly exposed all the things we hadn’t completely thought through yet. The only thing we walked out with was a suspended pot rack with built-in lights (destined to hang over the sink island, and get our pots out of the all-too-small drawers). Frustrated, we sat down to figure out the next steps.

That led me on my next trip to the Home Depot over at Chinook. (As much as I would prefer to buy at Rona, being Canadian and all, the one in Westhills is just too darn small and lacks the selection.) Acquired: one light for the dining room to replace the ugly-as-sin fan + light fixture, one three-bulb directional light originally intended for the kitchen (but will be likely deployed in our bedroom to remove the even-uglier-as-sin chandelier), one double-sink that measured to the same dimensions as the existing sink, one new faucet, several pieces of PVC piping and connectors, and some PVC cement.

Installation waited until after the kids when to bed. As much as I would love to show Monkey what I was doing, she’d have constantly been underfoot, and likely playing with the insanely sharp things I had laid about to get everything into place.

I started at 20:00 (by coincidence, I assure you) by first verifying that I had a sink that would fit. (I didn’t want to be in the position of having removed the old sink only to find the new one didn’t fit.) Then I cut the piping from the sink, removed the garburator (which we didn’t want), and had to turn the water off to the entire house (for some reason, the cold tap under the sink sprays when turned off). Total removal time: 45 minutes.

I figured I could do the new install in just over an hour. Sadly, having never installed a sink before, I grossly underestimated the trickiness of the project. Namely:

• Not fully looking into one of the boxes to find the screw clamp that kept the drain fitting attached to the sink (basically, me = idiot)
• Learning as I went about how to properly centre the new sink so the seals were in place, and so that I could properly clamp the sink to the countertop

The latter was the part where I was actually fairly proud of my ingenuity. The front of the sink was too far away from the countertop to use any of the clamps (even if I angled it, the clamp just missed the edge). But I needed to clamp the front of the sink, no matter what. What I needed was a bar to clamp to…

This is one of those extremely rare situations when men get to pride themselves on not throwing away the things (included tools, nuts and bolts, plastic ties, squeaky toys, etc.) that get thrown into the installation kits for appliances or IKEA furniture sets, and having a set of tools that mostly don’t get used. In my case, it was two short (about 4″) punched-metal double-ended wrenches (be damned if I can remember from where), my electric drill/screwdriver, and some deck screws (left over from the fence I built earlier in the summer).

It was a total MacGuyver moment. (My dad, despite never watching the show, called me “MacGuyver”. But that’s another story.) I slipped the wrenches between the counter top and the flimsy piece of particleboard that made up the counter frame, and screwed them together on either side of the wrench. To look at it, you’d almost have to call “fate” — there was never a more perfect fit.

Well, once I’d repositioned the sink ten bloody times, anyway…

Next up, the piping. Thankfully, having a) helped my dad a few times, and b) having watched more than my share of home improvement shows, I knew the basic process to installing PVC piping: dry assemble, and then glue. The trick? I have somehow lost my ultra-awesome pipe cutter. I know I had one, but I haven’t a clue what happened to it. So I had to cut the PVC with my drywall saw. (Hey, it worked.)

Eight cut pieces of PVC, two sanitary tees, one elbow, and a new trap later, I had the assembled pieces of the new drain. Always dry-fit first, folks — that way you can be sure everything gets together. (I had to trim one piece a bit — something I’d have totally blown had I not dry-fit tested.) Then came the tricky part — cementing it in place.

I don’t like PVC cement. Aside from the stink, you have to move quickly. It’s sort of building a LEGO model, then taking it apart and having to reassemble as fast as possible, in the right order, because the bricks will fuse in a few seconds after putting them together. It’s a bit panicky.

In the end, I had to pull pieces together tightly. Somewhere along the line, either my dry fit didn’t seat entirely, or I didn’t pull/push hard enough with the cement. I’m not really sure which. So it’s not perfect (there’s a slight push to one side), but it fits, and as of this morning, tested to be watertight.

Total time, start to finish: 3 hours, 45 minutes (counting the testing this morning). About an hour of that was getting the sink straight in the first place.

That concludes Phase 1 of the kitchen renovation. Phase 2 will likely be the Florida ceiling tear-down, and the light install (and likely in two parts, since I can do the dining table light pretty easily).

Here are the before/after pictures. Because it’s important to know what we’ve done here. We started off with a 70s reno gone wrong. We’ve ended up with a nice, modern space ready for almost anything.

From this:

To this:

From all this:

To all this:

Assuming we come back to this house when (if?) we leave Costa Rica, we’ll do the upstairs.

Just in time for us to leave the house and let someone else enjoy it. I’ve still not really come to grips with that part.

But as you can see, the basement is looking pretty good. At this point, the outstanding issues are installation of the floor; getting the toilet, sink, and bathroom hardware in place; hanging the doors; putting covers on the rest of the holes left in the ceiling (e.g. vents); a second coat of paint on two walls (looks a bit thin); and fixing the cable in one bedroom (which is mysteriously non-functional).

I think we’re okay with that. But it can’t go on much longer. Time’s a-runnin’ out.

This is where we left off when we left:

Basically: framing, insulation (particularly in the theatre area), wiring, and plumbing. It looked pretty rough as we headed out the door for the airport — a few of those pictures were literally taken minutes before we left!

Okay, so we’re back now, and progress has been made:

A lot of drywall at this point — almost at the point of doing finishing work. Flooring will be among the last things in. Alex is handling all the final beauty steps.

We’re not really certain when it’ll be all done, but it’s definitely coming along. The biggest problem? It’s really going to make us want to do the upstairs…

Anyway, we finally decided it was necessary to get a contractor to come in and finish the job.

No, scratch that.

To undo the mess I made, and do it right.

As you know, we already talked to one contractor who came back and suggested that it would cost over $50,000. Considering we had hoped to do all the house renovations, including our (apparently far more expensive than planned) heating system, for $100,000. It didn’t make sense to go with that.

Fortunately, I have connections. Loose ones, but ones that led us to someone who believes in doing solid, effective work without all the cost of the Taj Mahal. We want nice, not museum.

They officially started on Monday. So far the progress isn’t quite as fast as I thought it would be, but probably because I’ve got stupid expectations. The job is going to take them until May, which is an absolute hard date for us. So far, it’s mostly putting in bulkheads (which I’d never gotten around to), removing a wall that’s turned out to be effectively useless, and installing the framing for some closets (and for hiding pipes, sumps, and gas meters).

So far, they do better work than I do. I can’t wait to see how this room looks when it’s all done.

Today, I had my ego carved out of me with a dull spoon and splayed out on my poorly-installed laminate floor. Mike Holmes couldn’t have done a better job.

Ouch.

I’ve come to the realisation (with Alex’s careful guidance) that I cannot finish the basement solo. Nor with a level of quality that I would be happy with. The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, and my basement project is just one milestone along the way.

So we’ve called an expert — someone with a lot more experience and know-how. We found him through RenoMark.ca, a website that provides a list of renovators that come bonded, follow WCB rules, and so forth. Might not necessarily be Mike Holmes-approved, but it’s gotta be better than picking up some guy at the side of the road, right?

Richard is an honest guy. He pulls no punches, makes no apologies. He told me I shouldn’t have done a few things. He didn’t sugar-coat anything. I screwed up. I shouldn’t have tried to do certain things because I simply don’t know. He’s right — I rushed, and didn’t do somethings correctly. Somethings will have to be scrapped and redone.

But still — it hurt. Truth is like that. Pure truth is hard for a self-inflated ego to take. You believe you’re doing a good job. Then someone better tells you otherwise. It’s pride messing with you.

I wish now that I had found someone back last May. I wish I hadn’t embarked on this fool’s errand. I feel like I’ve let my family and myself down. And I feel like a disgrace before the memory of my father. I can hear the words of disapproval. But I’ll never have his helping hand.

Sorry Dad, I screwed up.

It’s probably going to cost almost $50,000 to do the job. Richard assures me that only a tiny portion will go to cleaning up my mess. But still, it’s a big freaking number. It’s Calgary, though — that’s what it costs here to do things right.

So now these entries will no longer be about any successes of mine. They’ll be others’. I’m okay with that … almost. It’s part of growing up.

It’s that time of the year again — to look back on the year passed, and reflect on the things I’ve done. Where did I go? What did I do? What have I honestly got to show for myself. It’s been an insanely long year. Sure, it was still 365 (and 1/4) days, but it felt at least three times longer…

Before I dive into the bullets, yes there is one overriding event that outclasses everything else I did in 2007:

I became a father.

Absolutely nothing else tops it. Not the trip around the world, not the CBC adventure, not getting promoted, not moving to a new city, not even seeing old friends (as truly awesome as that is). Being a dad is an experience I never truly experienced until now. And it’s an experience that I get to have each and every day, that changes almost daily, for the rest of my life.

No way could that ever be eclipsed.

Anyway, this is the other stuff I got around to last year:

• Upgraded this blog to run on WordPress, and I’m never looking back
• Also upgraded from storing pictures through the blog to storing pictures on Flickr — a far better solution
• Went to Tamara’s dad’s funeral
• Had some very good discussions about how Calgary Transit needs to improve
• Helped Tamara get another job at Critical Mass
• Saw the Rankin Family perform
• Guided the launch of the new Rolex.com website (a Herculean effort by my team)
• Went to Huntington Beach, CA for a conference
• Went to Ruskin (Maple Ridge), BC twice
• Went to Beaverton, ON for my friend Kathryn’s wedding
• Went to Huntsville, ON
• Went to Oakville, ON for a night
• Went to the Big Island of Hawaii
  • Had my bag lost
  • Went to a sunset luau
  • Swam with the dolphins (sort of)
  • Almost got suckered into a timeshare
  • Saw the Kilauea volcano
• Complained about Air Canada’s continuing dip in service
• Sold our house in Garrison Woods, and bought a house in Westgate. And moved. Again. Ugh.
• Started to renovate the basement:
  • Tore out the old basement in its entirety
  • Build new walls
  • Had a new heating system installed (I didn’t do it, though — I ain’t that crazy)
  • Had a new air circulation (and heating for upstairs) system installed
  • Had plumbing for new appliances and a bathroom installed
  • Had the electrical panel moved, meter put outside, new service installed, and put in electrical sockets around the basement (myself)
  • Laid down flooring (rather poorly, it would now seem — too many damned gaps)
  • Installed insulation and put up drywall in the largest room
  • Did most of the flooring and drywalling in one week while Alex and baby were in Ruskin
• Had too many friends leave the city
• Said farewell to my friend Rich, who passed away in May
• Rode the zipline at Canada Olympic Park twice
• Found out I’m pretty good at laying sod
• Didn’t have nearly enough dim sum
• Chased CP 2816 from Calgary to Canmore
• Nearly injured myself badly pruning a tree (just don’t tell Alex!)
• Got a new camera lens
• Taunted people with fake birth announcement entries on the blog (I’m such a jerk)
• Was a partial recipient (with the rest of my business unit) of a TP’ing
• Really realised just how long I’ve been in this industry, and how much I’ve seen

And I had a great Christmas break, since most people I work with were taking a MUCH needed vacation, and I got to relax with my now-expanded family. I hope you got time to spend with yours!

As for this year, no resolutions (I follow the belief that if you have to wait until 1 January to set resolutions, you’re not really looking to change) — though I do have a big plan in the works. And for now, that’s all you’re going to know about it.

No, it’s not another baby. That’s coming later.

Yes, I need to provide pictures of progress. But you’ll understand why I can’t in a moment…

When I got down to work last Monday, I had a huge mountain of work to deal with: installing the laminate floor (including laying down all the foam underlay first, cutting boards to specific lengths and widths), putting in insulation (and cutting to length), putting up vapour barrier, putting in drywall, and starting to mud.

All of this so we can move stuff from the upstairs to the downstairs, so we don’t feel like we’re living in a storage locker anymore.

By Monday just passed (3 December), most of this was complete. (I had also dreamt of tiling floors in a closet, the utility room, and the bathroom, but I abandoned that about two days in.) The only really outstanding parts are finishing drywall along one wall (my fancy-schmancy drywall drill bit gave out on me), finishing the mudding, and helping to organise the stuff upstairs so it makes more sense.

Oh, and I cleaned up a bit, too.

When I went to the airport last night to retrieve my family, I was exhausted. Several people remarked that I “looked like crap” (or some variant thereof). Which was true. Bags under my eyes, over a week’s growth of beard (which was itching like crazy, but I was more worried about renovation than shaving), I think the same pair of pants I’ve worn for a week (my only other pair of cold-weather wear developed a hole in an inconvenient location), my left hip hurts from what I think amounts to seven simultaneous sprains, and who knows what else.

Alex laughed when she saw me. I was probably quite the site. I was happy to see her smile. It had been a while since the last time. I was even happier to see my baby again, who also smiled (and drooled), though likely wondering what happened to daddy’s face.

It’s good to have my family back. If nothing else, this past week just reiterates how important it is for me to have them.

This is sort of my own private “While You Were Out”. The problem is that this is a one-man job. I don’t have any help. That means I have to do everything myself. Including lugging 30 sheets of sheetrock.

And this stuff ain’t light.

They’re standard 4 foot by 8 foot by 1/2 inch panels. They weight about 28 pounds apiece. They’re not easy to move. I had to get help at the Home Depot (I really only went there because Home Depot also has rental vans, which the local Rona doesn’t have — the Mini would be crushed under this weight) to get the stuff to checkout and into the back of a heavy duty van.

But there ain’t no-one at the house but the cat, and she’s too wimpy to even think about going outside these days (it’s -15 right now). So it’s just me.

Thirty sheets of drywall at 28 pounds a pop isn’t even a half-tonne (Metric) of material. But it’s big, awkward, and you’ve got to have a tight grip so you don’t drop and shatter it on the floor.

My forearms are killing me. It hurts to type. But it’s in the house, and it’s one step closer to having a near-complete rec room. Which means I can start moving stuff from the upstairs down on the weekend.

I hope Alex likes what I’ve done with the place…

I’m ranting because I’m on night #2 trying to get this stuff into the basement while Alex and the wee one are out of town. I’m pulling long nights, spending virtually every moment downstairs wrestling with a Tarkett laminate we purchased a couple of weekends ago.

I’m trying to do this mostly as a surprise for Alex — finish off as much of the basement as I can, so that when she comes home the upstairs is fully liveable, and the main room of the downstairs is finally useable. It won’t be complete, but it’ll at least be a start. And we can start to live in this house, rather than merely exist.

The instructions printed on the insert with each box make it sound simple. This stuff is the “clickable” type, which means there are special hooked grooves that interlock. The idea is that once the stuff is down, it doesn’t separate and you don’t get the gaps common with ordinary tongue-and-groove types.

It’s a complete and utter myth. This stuff is actually worse than tongue-and-groove. Especially if you’re one person. When you lay down the first row, it’s easy — lay end-to-end, and they magically interlock. Done. The problems begin with the second row. According to instructions, you lay down the row end-to-end, and then slide the entire row into the previous one, completing the effect. In principle, it makes sense.

But it never works. Once you get one section of the row in place, another part pops back out. The interlock is tenuous. And you can’t tap it into place with a hammer. Although the floor is durable, the grooves are flimsy as hell, and are prone to breakage. I’ve got gaps everywhere. They’re not just unsightly, they’re highly annoying. I can already foresee cuts forming.

And no, I don’t have any friends I can call on. I’m doing this installation until well into the morning, and I can’t ask friends to stay up that late to help me. It’s simply just not acceptable.

That’s my rant. Next time, I’ll use engineered hardwood. Or the real thing. But I’m sure as hell never using laminate again. I wish the floor had been regular concrete…

The biggest hurdle has just been getting the heated floors to work with our fancy new HRV-cum-fancoil. A problem because we had two different vendors do the install.

Canyon, as you know, installed the floor. They got it so we at least were getting warmth when it started to turn cold. But we also needed (by city code) to have airflow in the house, and the new code states thou shalt have an air exchanger. And since you don’t want to suck in -40 degree air into a warm house, you toss it through an HRV first. And since we have no direct heating source upstairs, we needed a heat source — a fancoil.

Baker Heating found us a combination HRV and “fresh air furnace” (another name for a fancoil). We had to have a number of in-person chats with Phil (the installer) to make sure the furnace was placed properly, to ensure ducting went where we wanted, to align the air intakes and outlets, and to wire it all together.

Technically, this all went well, as we now have a house without all the humidity we’d been plagued with for weeks and it doesn’t smell like musty concrete anymore. But it didn’t go perfectly.

Miscommunication reigns supreme. We didn’t understand the size of the furnace. We didn’t realise that the spaces I’d left for ducting weren’t big enough. So doorways that I’d built into walls need to be moved. In other words, my previous exclamation that [[Framing is complete!|the framing was complete]] isn’t entirely accurate. I’ve got more work to do.

But at least we can do it in the comfort of warmth. Important, as we’re likely only a few short weeks from the arrival of snow.

But there’s still a lot left to do.

Flooring still remains an issue. We’re expecting another quote back from Kensington One, which will hopefully lower the cost of the flooring a bit. Alex still wants someone with far more skill than I to handle the tiling (especially with the shower) in the bathroom. Can’t say I blame her, either — I’m not too keen on doing that, myself.

Electrical is much better off than it was a couple of weeks ago. Lights, a fully-wired utility room, proper wiring for both the boiler/floor pump assembly (it had been hacked in for the time being) with a separate switch for the HRV (going in today), and now we’ve got all the electrical sockets in rec room wired and operational.

As I mentioned, the HRV/fresh air furnace goes in today. That means — finally — we get fresh air back in the house. And hopefully all the damned humidity will be sucked out. It’s a 3-4 day job, having discussed it at length with Phil (the installer) last week. He’s got his work cut out for him, that’s for sure.

I’ve got one wall insulated, but mostly so I could install the two dividing walls that define bedroom from bathroom from office. I still need to insulate the rest, but I want to give some more thought about electrical first. I’m thinking we’re fine in the walls now, as I’m more likely to run lights in the ceiling. That means I can start thinking about ordering drywall.

But I think the floor is more important. That way we can get all of our junk currently wedged into corners upstairs moved downstairs, and empty our Public Storage locker.

I spend the weekend working as much as I could in the basement, trying to make some more headway given the three-odd week break I’ve had getting to know my child a bit more.

Up for work: mostly electrical (I’d hoped to have a “framing complete” post today, but the aforementioned child needed some attention from daddy, so I didn’t quite get there). And that means lights.

For the last few months, I’ve been working off of two banks of fluorescent lights, neither of which I’d moved since tearing the basement apart. With more and more of the walls in place, it’s become more important to have actual lighting on actual switches so we can actually find our way through the basement.

I repurposed some of the lights I’d pulled out during deconstruction — specifically, three (of the six) halogen pot lights. They’re designed to actually sit on top of a ceiling, which I don’t currently have, so I strapped them to the beams instead. (It’s temporary until we can figure out what we’re doing.)

I then had the brilliant idea: run the power from the panel out to the first light, connect the three lights in series, and use a dimmer switch at the far end to control them.

Those of you who have an inkling of circuits will have caught my blunder.

“Series”.

There’s two ways to hook up multiple things on a circuit: series and parallel. In a series circuit, each item receives its power from the previous item. I can’t remember all the details of where you’d use one over the other, but I do know (now, having been reminded) that series connections mean less juice for succeeding items … and possibly they might not work at all.

Doh.

After realising what I’d done wrong (I bypassed two of the three lights, accidentally electrocuting myself when I forgot to turn the circuit off at the panel), I also remembered my circuits, and broke the whole thing out into parallel circuits.

Voila! Let there be light!

Somewhere along the line, though, I’ve switched something around. My off is on, and my on is off. I’ve flipped the switch around for now, but I do need to fix it eventually.

Maybe when Craig stops laughing at the work I’ve done, he can give me a couple of pointers…

The biggest question is: what will be the deciding factor?

Initially, we set no budget, preferring to get the “right” answer first. So we went to Kensington One, one of the best flooring companies in town. They sent out an estimator, and we were quoted for 630 sq. ft. of engineered hardwood (for the rec room and office) and 250 sq. ft. of tile for the laundry and bathroom. We’re leaving the bedroom unfinished for now, until we’re ready to finish it off properly.

I expected a high quote. This is what you expect from one of the best companies in town, using quality materials. This is normal.

But about $13,000 is enough for you to pause for a moment, swallow the bile that unexpectedly ran into your mouth, and wonder if you’re actually doing the right thing.

I’m not suggesting in any way that Kensington One is wrong, or attempting to gouge us. The reality is that we hadn’t figured on that high a cost for what is effectively a simple floor. And let’s also make one thing understood — the floor itself isn’t that expensive. It’s all the labour that goes along with it.

So I took a trip to Home Depot on the weekend to see if there were any alternatives to blowing through the equivalent of our heating system budget on a new floor. Home Depot is the home of the DIY. In theory, yes, I could have also gone to Rona, but the nearest one to me is seriously lacking in options because it’s so darned small.

Kensington One’s prices came out to over $14/sq. ft. At Home Depot, I could get a rather nice-looking engineered floor for about $4/sq. ft. If I went really cheap, I could get a laminate floor (“a picture of wood”) for less than a buck. Basically, put in my rec floor for about $630. That’s versus the about $8,000 I was quoted.

When does “right” mean “cheap”? I dunno, but at less than 1/10th the cost, it’s not a stretch.

So we’re in debate mode. As much as Alex really wants someone to come in and do the job right, I’m keen on keeping the budget in check — and $13,000 is way out of check. Sadly, even if we go to a cheaper material, the cost will only go down maybe a couple thousand at most — it’s the labour, and that don’t come cheaply.

The other pressure is to get any floor down at this point, so we can move stuff around upstairs. We’ve got no space, and after a fairly serious baby shower, we’re left with a lot less room than we had before. And we’re getting hand-offs from Cathy. Soon we’ll need mountaineering equipment just to get around.

Space is at a premium, and we need that basement back in order, quickly.

The house is warm again (and not due to summer temperatures), and our old hot water tank has been permanently disconnected.

So here’s what we’ve got in our basement:

From right to left (there’s a reason for the reverse order) we have a new hot water heater, the boiler, and the “board” that distributes heat from the boiler.

Okay, so first, the boiler. It’s a Laars Mascot 150. Technically, this is a pretty simple little doodad. It consists of a natural gas heater, a water loop, a blower, a small computer with temperature sensors, and a couple of solenoids to distribute the flow. There’s a wad of piping that comes in and out of the boiler, sending it to two places: the hot water tank and “the board”.

The hot water tank uses what’s called indirect heat. In other words, there’s no flame under the tank to heat the water. Instead, a pipe of 160 degree water comes from the boiler to heat the cold domestic water. The tank is about twice the size of our previous heater. Alex can finally have that bath without running out of hot water!

Finally is “the board”. This is what provides heat to the floor. Allow me to annotate what you see here.

At the far left are two pipes — the return to the boiler and the inlet into the board. At the bottom left are the pipes that put water into the floor. On the bottom right are the pipes coming back into the board, with solenoids that open or close the circuits depending on the thermostats. At the top is a pump that forces the flow to continue.

Now you might notice the inlet and outlet positions as being a bit “odd” — they’re right next to each other, with nothing (effectively) stopping the hot water from being sucked out and sent right back to the boiler. I thought this odd, too. Apparently, this is to protect the boiler.

The boiler needs to always have circulation, otherwise pressure builds up and … well, it might not be good. The board is built such that if the board’s pump fails, the boiler remains unharmed.

This equals heat. It’s not perfect — we still need to get air circulation and heat the upstairs, but this is a good start.

Now I just need to get the framing all done, run electrical, get a floor laid, insulate, wallboard, mud, and paint.

No problem…

Yesterday (yes, I’m a bit slow on this) the work was finished.

I wasn’t there to witness, but as I understand, Enmax arrived to do their work. The electrician (Shane, Mark’s partner) handled the rest of the work inside.

The new line was run from the pole in the alley to the mast on the roof, and the old line cut and taken away. The old meter was removed from the basement (though the bulk of the gizmo was left behind — the actual metering part was taken), along with the old panel. The bypass was removed, and the new panel took over as the direct recipient of outside power.

That means that I got to finally remove the old panel’s support from the wall, so I can finish the outside framing. (Well, as much of the outside framing as I can. The gas meter is still in the way.)

Turns out that I’m just ignorant. Electrically-speaking, anyway.

So here’s a tip for those of you who go the DIY route in putting in your own (modern) dryer. Several, actually, since the process isn’t terribly-well documented.

First, understand that your fancy new (electric) dryer is not a hair dryer, a microwave, or a toaster. This is a fairly large chunk of electricity-sucking mechanical wonder. It needs juice. A lot of it. Usually, about 30 amps, rated at about 125V/240V (more on this in a sec). You won’t be able to plug this into any regular socket, either.

If you’ve already got your dryer, you’re probably staring at the plug. It’s a beast. You won’t be wiggling these terminals — they’re at least 1/8″ thick. And there’s a weird J-shaped one, too. What the heck? This is how you’ll get your electricity. The round pole is your ground. The J-shaped one is your neutral. The two rectangular ones are your hot leads — and you need both for this sucker to work.

Assuming you don’t already have a receptacle for this (in which case you probably don’t need this page), you’ll need to install one. Let’s also assume you’re not going for an electrician and want to do this yourself. You’ll need the following:

1. A dryer receptacle. You gotta plug your dryer into something, right?
2. The box to attach said receptable.
3. Two cable connectors / strain releases. This will keep the cable from being cut by sharp edges on the box.
4. A length of 4-wire 10-3 electrical cable. (Measure the distance you think you’ll need, and add a metre or so just to be safe.)
5. A double-pole 30-amp breaker for your panel. (Again, assuming you don’t have one.)

Drill holes (using at least a 3/4″ — preferably a 1″ — drill bit to run the cable through your walls. You might want to soap the holes so the cable glides more freely. The stuff is stiff, and does not bend easily. (It also doesn’t cut easy, so have some strong shears around to cut ends off.)

At the receptacle end, find a proper place on a stud to secure the box. Use screws, as they’ll hold better than just nails. Attach the cable connector, pull the cable through connector (leaving enough room for strippping), and secure the cable by screwing the connector closed. Strip your wires about 1″ at the various ends, and ensure you’ve attached them correctly to the receptacle.

Okay, you’ve got one end. Now you’ve got to do the other. Wiring a panel is a little more involved.

1. Turn the main power off. The entire panel. (The entire house.) Don’t even think of doing this any other way.
2. Pop one of the blanks out in the panel, insert a cable connector, and pull the cable in and tie it down. Give yourself a lot of room — you’re going to need it.
3. Attach the ground (the bare copper wire) and the neutral (the white wire). It should be pretty obvious how you connect these.
4. Here’s the biggest trick: Make sure your dual-pole breaker is spanning across phases. (More in a second on this.)
5. Insert the two wires (black on top, red on the bottom). Screw everything tight, and close up the panel.

More on that phase thing. If you look closely at the metal part (usually down the centre) that the breaker plugs into, you’ll see that the plugs are arranged in twos. If you insert a breaker so that it sits in one of those pairs, your breaker will be on the same phase. This means you’re not actually getting the juice you need.

Think of it as one of those fancy executive balls toys, with all the balls swinging in the same direction at once. Really boring, right? That’s because all the balls are in the same phase. No energy transfer. Put the balls in different phases, and things bounce off of each other. Same principle in electricity — your breaker needs to span the pairs, with each half of the breaker in two different pairings. This keeps each of the two wires on different phases, and presto! You have a drying dryer.

Otherwise, you have just a gizmo that spins clothes around. Not so useful.