Category: Family & Home

Miles has exploded on the scene. Two months ago he started standing up while holding onto things. A couple of weeks ago he started skipping the props and standing on his own. And yesterday he took his first step. Not a big daddy step, just a wee step followed by a crash, but it was a step. By the end of today he could take several small steps in a row. Pictured here as a mighty Teamster with industrial lunchbox and coveralls heading off to build skyscrapers.

He seems better at lifting one foot than the other, and sometimes walks in a semi-circle. Nine months old and already wallking. We’ve got our hands full. Amy was in the shower today and he crawled in to join her, clothes and all. Just looked up at her, “In case you were wondering where I was, well, here I am!”

A few months ago the game was for me to try and build a neutron tower faster than he could crawl over and knock it down. Now the game is that I build the tower sans cherry and he “walks” over and puts the little red cup on top (only his coordination is kind of gross — he tries to place it gently but whacks too hard, knocking it down by accident — that’s okay, it’s all fun).

Miles can pull toilet paper off the roll and eat it. Miles can steal keys off tables. Miles can change channels with the remote and can go to Picture In Picture mode (we hate that). Miles can pull turds out of the cat box (which is now safely out of reach). Miles can pull items off the shelves at the hardware store from his perch in the trolley.

You try moving into a new house with a Tasmanian Cutey Pie Tornado!

Delay on assembling the nine-month gallery until my server finds its way back home.

Saturday a huge effort — half a dozen friends helped us load and unload a 14′ truck twice and a half. Everyone sore and exhausted and totally satisfied by end of day, wrapped up with beer and a big Thai feast — El Cerrito has a bunch of great Thai restaurants. Head cold deepening and worsening, worked right through it, no choice. Sunday Amy and I back to Raymond St. alone to clean up – three hours of excavating dust bunnies and Murphy’s-ing the floors. Kind of a drag to be working on the old house when all you want is to assemble the new one, but in the end it felt really good — pardon the cliche’, but “closure” felt whole. Ready to move on. Head cold turned into chest cold. Hacking chest and it hurts, but Monday spent bootstrapping the house, bringing up systems, putting the kitchen together, etc. Clean slate. And the million hidden expenses begin.

Me: Did you know Buddy Hackett died yesterday? I read in his obituary that he was born “Buddy Hacker.”

Wife: When I was a girl my dream husband was Gregory Peck.

Me: I’ll try to fulfill your ideals and be more Gregory Peck-like.

Wife: Not just Gregory Peck. Gregory Peck as Addicus Finch in “To Kill a Mockingbird.”

No problem, baby.

Because life is rich, the hottest days of the year mount as we prepare to move. Just want to flop over sack out, but must keep packing. The bummer part is that the heat wave really kicked in as I applied the final layer of acrylic to the floors. The idea is to let it pool up, then let gravity work out the irregularities and bubbles as it dries. But in the heat, it dries faster, i.e. with imperfections. Not terrible, just not the icing on the cake I was hoping for. Tomorrow expected to challenge Oakland’s all-time record of 103 degrees.

Up at crack of dawn to apply acrylic to floors this morning and tomorrow, and after work as well. All told there will be three thin and three thick coats. On way back home this morning, car started to sputter and choke, running on three cylinders. Mechanic can’t take it till tomorrow. Amy tried to rent a car, they brought it over, but it wouldn’t accomodate the baby seat. Borrowed neighbor’s car instead. Will and Sage blow back into town and as quickly back out. Marina had her twins today – Abigail and Claire — not sure yet whether they’re identical. We reserved a moving truck three weeks ago for this Saturday’s move. Today called to confirm it and they had had no record (despite our confirmation #). More digging, turns out the central office at Budget has promised the same truck to seven people, but doesn’t even know where the truck is — they have to call everyone and tell them their weekend moves are flummoxed. Found another truck locally, just in time. Amy and I both have caught Miles’ head cold – he’s a regular snot factory the last three days. And his front teeth are coming in, so he’s double whammied. Preparing to move birdhouse hosting to a temporary network during the move (expect some downtime Thursday night). Got the news yesterday that in addition to the crack house up the street that’s been making neighborhood life crummy the past few months, we now have actual machine gun violence a few blocks away — getting out just in the nick of time. Read today that according to the EPA, 40% of the nation’s waterways are unfit for fishing, swimming, etc. G5s are out.

Floors after three days of sanding, then after a couple coats of clear acrylic. Wish I had taken a “before” shot.

Day three sanding floors. So many layers to this job. Belt sander. Orbital edge sander. Vibrating edge sander. Hand blocks. Three grits of sandpaper for each — 60, 100, 120. Difficult corners. Putty. Emptying sawdust catch bags laden with varnish-saturated dust. Eyes puffy and irritated this morning. Endless trips to hardware store and rental place for fuses, sandpaper, tarps, tape, snacks for friends who drop by to help, back to house for forgotten tools.

But there’s something just right about tackling a huge project the minute escrow closes — sweat equity goes right in (literally — drops of sweat will be entombed forever in the raw floors tomorrow when acrylic goes on). Becoming familiar with every nook and cranny, eye-to-eye with cobwebs, glitches, anomalies.

The closets were the real test. The belt sander won’t fit. But the bag on the orbital doesn’t seal properly, and tends to fall off if knocked sideways, which happens frequently in the small confines. When the bag pops off, the powerful blower throws plumes of sawdust in your face. You recoil, letting go, and the unit spins like a helicopter blade, wrapping its cord around itself. The room fills with dust and smoke. Cuss. Regroup. Vacuum. Retie. Duct tape. Carry on. Our closet floors will look dynamite.

Chris, Andrew, Mike, Roger, Paula, thanks all for your generous help these past few days. Like an old-fashioned barn raising, friends coming by to raise high the roofbeams.

Through the mask of sawdust, I am falling in love with the house we just bought, in an intimate way I don’t think I could if we had had the floors done professionally.

Amy and I retrieved the keys to our new house at 1pm, then spent the rest of the day bouncing off the walls, making lists, having ideas, trying to prioritize. Heating and plumbing guy came at 2pm and the first foible arose: to install forced air heating they need to get the heating appliance under the house, which requires a 20″x30″ opening. Our crawlspace entrances are too small and can’t be enlarged, so we’ll need to have a new one put in. And so the story begins. Tomorrow the big sanding job begins. Here’s to us!

This entry initially posted as audio from cell phone in the empty, echo-y house:

audblog audio post

Just returned from the title company, where Amy and I signed about 4″ of documents, closing escrow on the house. It’s been such an insane month, we’ve barely been able to digest the whole home purchase thing. But ready or not, here it comes… taking keys in a few days. Scary to sign your life away like that. It’s the American Dream, brother!, or something like that. But we are very excited. Summer projects yawn out in front of us.

Amy and Miles wanted to color me a card for my first Father’s Day, but Miles isn’t quite ready for that. “Color like the wind!” Amy told him, trying to get the job done before I woke up. But he had never held a crayon before. He chewed on it for a while and then flung it aside. Repeat for each color in the box.

Installed Gallery last night, both for birdhouse use and for matthewsperry.org, then made a little gallery of images of my brother, dad, miles and myself for father’s day.

Miles is a nut.
He has a rubber butt.
And every time he turns around
He goes putt-putt.