Culture Clash, The Country Russian

Not to be overly stereotypical, but when I think of construction labor, I don't think Russians, I think Hispanic. Much was my surprise when I walked in on the gentlemen tiling our shower and heard them speaking Russian. (There is a large Ukrainian population in Tacoma) It was a father and his two sons. The eldest looked as though he was following in his father's footsteps and going into the family business. The younger, 18-20 years old, looked like he would rather have been at the skate park.

All through the day, I heard country music blaring as they meticulously attached tile after tile to the wall. By day's end, I could not help myself and had to inquire who was the country music lover. Vlad, short for Vladimir, was name of the father and the eldest son. Vlad Sr. spoke with a thick Russian accent while Vlad Jr. was likely American born as he spoke with no accent at all. I asked, "So, who likes Country?" Vlad Sr. looked at me with one eye crooked, then his eyebrows lifted in understanding, "You mean the music." (Imagine all his dialogue with a comically thick Russian accent like in a James Bond film.) "I do not hear music. Can be anything. Heavy metal, soul train, country - does not matter. I work. These kids no work, just listen to music." Then after a short pause, "My son spend time in South Carolina. He is like, how you say, red neck hick." After chuckling quite heartily, I informed Vlad Sr. that he had a good handle on the English vernacular. I almost offered him a shot of tequila to go with his ethnic diversity. Maybe next time.

Sorry, but no new photos this week. The paint and trim have all been complete. Lots of little things are happening like hardware on doors, door stops, cleaning, minor repair and touch ups. The carpet gets installed tomorrow and we'll take final photos after that. Looking forward to everything being complete and back to living a quiet life by the end of the week.

link anyway: http://picasaweb.google.com/scott.templin/RenovationsII#

It's Just a Light

If you look in the photo to the left, just left of my head you will see a blue circle in the ceiling. This is a light fixture. This story is about ignorance and ambition, and that light fixture.

As you might know, not only are we doing construction down stairs, but also on the nursery. The reason for this was two fold; the closet walls in the nursery had to be removed to run electrical, vent, and heating ducts through them for what was going on downstairs, and because Sarah and I hate popcorn ceilings. The nursery had popcorn ceilings when we bought the house - no problem, at some point I'll just scrape the ceiling like I've read on the internet. What the internet doesn't tell you is all those techniques don't work when there are 3 coats of paint on the popcorn texture. After 3 hours of scraping, I had roughly 5 sq/ft complete. This method was not going to work. Next concept, re-drywall the ceiling. While I'm at it, I'll move that light from over the door to the center of the room, where it should have been put in the first place. Little did I know that this entire process, drywall and light, would take the better part of 2 months thanks to ignorance, ambition, and a light fixture.

The project started off well enough. I rented a drywall lift from the orange store, and, by myself, in an afternoon, hung all new drywall, covering that old popcorn. So maybe there were some larger gaps than if some pros had done the job, but I could cover that up with mud. A week later after two coats of mud and poorly managed tape repair job, I was glad to get help from a friend who does this kind of stuff for a living. (Thanks again Matt) In 15 minutes, he had the ceiling looking better than I had in 10 days. So maybe there is some technique to this mudding thing. Next is texture. Ignorance, ambition, and a light fixture.

Since the walls in the closet would need to be redone, our contractor said that when the texture guy came for the closet, he could also do the ceiling. This was great seeing as I would not have to do a job I was estimating would take me an entire day, and spare me the need of buying/renting some equipment I may or may not ever use again. After the texture went up the ceiling looked great. Since I never liked the original location of the light fixture, I had simply covered it with the new drywall. Now all I had to do was install the fixture in the new location. Again, this seemed like a simple enough project: get into attic, remove old electrical junction box, cut wires, cut hole in ceiling, relocate junction box, reconnect wires. Simple, right? At least I have a to do list. Ignorance, ambition, and a light fixture.

I decided to crawl into the attic on an afternoon where the temperature outside had climbed to a comfortable 75, on a rarely sunny spring day. What I had forgotten was that the temperature in the attic was a good 20-25 degrees above ambient. What I also forgot was that the nursery, being at the front of the house, was not only the farthest point from the entrance to the attic, but also where the roof pitch squeezes down and leaves about 2 1/2 feet of vertical room to crawl through. The final thing I forgot was that I am not an electrician. Ignorance, ambition, and a light fixture.

The project was going fairly well. I had been up there an hour or so, scraped both knees getting to the location, but finally found a comfortable spot I could lay down and only bruise one hip while still being fairly productive. I had found the old junction box, determined where the new one would go, cut a new hole down into the nursery, and hammered the new junction box into location. I did think there were quite a few motorcycles going up and down the street behind our house, even though it was a beautiful day outside. Now to the nitty gritty - the electrical wiring. I had to cut all the wires out of the old box because I could not remove the box itself from the joist. This would be no problem as I had ensured the light switch was in the OFF position before getting into the attic. In case you didn't know, in many older homes, the hot wire is routed to the light fixture, through it, and then to the light switch, allowing the one hot line to also power several outlets. Convenient enough for the original installers, not so much if you didn't do your homework and recognize this while jammed into a 2 foot crawl space inside a 95 degree oven of an attic. I should have known when I saw 4 wires coming out of the junction box instead of what I expected, two. No matter... A bright flash of light, cursing, and a melted pair of wire snips later, I've had enough. Out of the attic for the day. Sarah was home to capture the photo above which could be titled "Sweat, Insulation, and Frustration" but I like to call "Ignorance, Ambition, and a Light Fixture".

The next day, the electrician was at the house installing a new electrical panel. It was at this point, when the power to the entire home was cut, that I reentered the attic. Once I regained my prone position over the half finished job I thought to myself, "There really shouldn't be that many motorcycles out and about today, it's raining." I then, by chance, look toward the attic vent on the gable at the front of the house, not 6 feet from where I'm working, and not 2-3 feet from where my legs are braced against a joist for leverage, and I see 2 small wasp nests and 8 or so wasps hanging from the very timber I have been and would be hammering on to complete this project. I have seen a lot of movies where the hero is standing over a bomb and sweat is poring down their face while they try to concentrate on how to diffuse the bomb before it blows up the entire school full of children. I believe I now have an inkling of how that situation might feel. The next hour of work consisted of me holding my breath as I tried to move around and hammer as gently as I could, sweat pouring down my face. IF I GET THIS WRONG - THINK OF THE CHILDREN! Ignorance, ambition, and a light fixture.

When I was retelling this story to Sarah, she asked me, "Why didn't you just climb out and get some wasp spray?" She had obviously not crawled into the attic two days in a row. The amount of effort required to get into and out of my position in the attic made it worth the risk of possibly getting stung by all 8 wasps. As horrible and painful as that would be, I'm not allergic to wasps and nothing would be permanent unless they sting me in the eye.

I also ended up getting help from the electrician of how to properly rewire the light, seeing as how I didn't know for sure how to get all the outlets working and the light working at the same time. That's the difference between reading the Home Depot do-it-yourself manual vs. actually being certified to complete the job. Ignorance, ambition, and a light fixture.

There's no "after" photo as of yet, but the nursery is coming along quite nicely. We now have the crib, cradle, and glider assembled. The dresser/changing table will be in later today/tomorrow and we can then start washing all those new baby cloths and getting them ready to be worn by Templin Jr. Only 3 weeks and counting!

Surely a baby is easier to take care of than a light fixture... ignorace?

Jazzfest New Orleans!!

My recent road trip from Orlando to Tacoma, and visit with family in Birm-ingham, gave Sarah and I the opportunity to visit New Orleans, together, for the first time. We were also extremely lucky to visit during the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival. If you are like myself about 2 months ago, and have never heard of the Jazzfest, then this might not seam like a big deal. If, however, you are like two of my neighbors who have been to Jazzfest, they would consider it an absolute sin to be in New Orleans during Jazzfest and NOT attend. Having now been inducted into the Jazzfest alumni association, I can say with certainty - to describe Jazzfest is like trying to describe how big the ocean is, or how breathtaking the Grand Canyon is, or how earthshaking a live space shuttle launch is, or how beautiful a sunset is. Jazzfest just IS.

Ever since my first visit to New Orleans, I have held the belief that NOLA (New Orleans, Louisiana) is once of the best cities in the US to eat some of the most amazing food and listen to some of the most amazing music on the cheap. Jazzfest does not embody this concept, it transcends it. For a $45 admission, our senses were bombarded for 8 hours by 10 stages and the smells of over 50 food vendors. As you walk the grounds of the horse track, where the event is held, you are almost overwhelmed as both the sound of music and smells of competing food stands mingle in the air.

When I say food stands, I don't mean hotdogs and hamburgers. In fact, hotdogs and hamburgers are not available at Jazzfest. Only local delicacies grace the counters of each food dispensary. Local cuisine includes: po-boy sandwiches (with any meat you desire - catfish, crawfish, pork, shrimp, crab ect), Crawfish Monica, crawfish strudel, crawfish cheese bread, jambalaya, creole style food of every sort, alligator pie, beignets, boudin, muffuletta, and the list goes on! Sarah and I stuffed ourselves with delicious dishes all day long, not repeating any dish between ourselves or throughout the day, and I want to go back for 3 more days just to try all the food I didn't get to eat. The amount and variety of music is just as astounding. Between the gospel tent, blues tent, jazz tent, Congo Square, and the 6 other stages on location, there is no place on the grounds where you cannot hear music all the time. Sarah had never experienced Zydaco music so I was excited to expose her to the high tempo, accordian filled, local style - and just our luck, Buckwheat Zydaco himself was playing on the day we attended. An extremely enthusiastic performer and exceptional musician who really knows how to get the crowd jumpin'.

The festivities do not stop at the gates of the fairgrounds. On the way into and out of the festival, the streets are lined with all manner of other groups, choirs, and bands playing to their hearts content. Why do they play? I can only imagine it is in the hopes they they one day too will be invited inside the grounds to perform, and, of course, for the love of music.

There are only a few things in this world that I recommend everyone try to see sometime in their life - and Jazzfest is one of those things. Check their web page for info and future dates simply by googling Jazzfest.

Check out all the photos from our spring vacation, including photos of New Orleans and Jazzfest at: http://picasaweb.google.com/scott.templin/SpringVacation2010#

The Ultimate Hand-Me-Down

"I'm going to write down an offer on this piece of paper. Then I'm going to slide it across the desk to you. Read it, and tell me how close we are to getting you to take this sweet baby home today." Sound familiar? It's the classic TV version of the haggling between dealer and buyer at a car dealership. Fortunately for me, or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, all I know about buying a new car is what I've seen on the TV. You see my dear friends, I'm an only child, so most of my life i have been immune to the hand-me-down; that age old tradition I hear complaints about from those younger children in multiple sibling families. However, little did I realize all this would change on my 16th birthday. On that glorious day I received my first hand me down car. It was my Grandparent's 1985 Buick Century. NICE. Little did I realize this would be the beginning of a dangerous precedent. Since this momentous event, every time my parents buy themselves a new car, I get the option of receiving the oldest wheels in the Templin fleet as my personal transportation. This was an amazing opportunity during those years after high school when you are dirt poor, and spending all your money on women and booze anyway. Now, having just turned 30, and taking ownership of my 4th Templin fleet hand-me-down, the luster of the event just doesn't have the same power it did back in those cash strapped days. DO NOT confuse this lack of enthusiasm for a lack of appreciation. Centuries of breeding frugal practicality into the Templin line (substitute "cheap" for "frugal practicality" if you know us well) has made me not only enjoy what feels like is becoming a tradition, but even look forward to the event.

There is a catch... Ever since 2002, although my parents continue to live in the Sunshine State, I have lived within an hour of the pacific ocean. Subsequently, as you may surmise, I drive across the US delivering my new-used car. After including up to 4,000 miles worth of gas, meals, snacks, hotel rooms, lotto tickets, speeding ticket, new CD's for the long hours, bubblegum, and time off work - that new-used car can quickly turn into the most expensive free car you ever had. Again, don't confuse my explanation for a lack of appreciation because I more than save money vs buying the car from a used car lot, and always have a blast in my travels. Most folks, if pressed, can drive upwards of 800 miles a day, making the trip in 4 or 5 days. I, being a lover of all things Americana, find it hard to pass up the opportunity to visit all those national monuments, parks, and all around iconic roadside attractions. In my past travels I have visited: Graceland, Sunset Crater Volcano National Monument, Death Valley, hike the Grand Canyon, Bonneville Salt Flat speed test range, gamble just a little in Reno, attend the press conference after the second landing of the x-prize reusable space launch vehicle in Mojave, and even check out the "Honk N' Hook" outside of Cheyenne, WY (but that's a completely different story), and always lots of friends I haven't seen in too long. This time was no different - except for a few key items worth note. I was accompanied by a beautiful, 34 week pregnant woman riding shot gun, and I would be pulling a 5x8 Uhal trailer full of family heirlooms.

The Trip. After picking up the car from my parents and visiting Grandma in Orlando, we drove to Birmingham to visit the other side of my family and check out Mimi's new lake villa. If you have never had grits with tomato gravy, come over to the house and I'll make some for you - thanks Mimi for the recipe. Then we headed to New Orleans for good food, good music, and good times. More on our New Orleans visit and JAZZFEST in a subsequent post. This is where Sarah took a jet plane home. I wasn't about to submit her to 6 more days of long driving. I, however, would not be alone. I was fortunate enough to visit Drew, Karlene, and Dave in Austin, TX - hang out with Travis who was going though instructor pilot school at Altus AFB, OK - check out the Karlan clan in Albuquerque, NM, spend more time with almost the entire Hesseltine family (my in-laws) in Denver, CO - and finally stretch the last 1400 miles back to Tacoma in a two day drive. Along the way I passed though 13 states, drove 4100 miles, and caught up on hours of podcasts I'd been neglecting.

On a regulatory note (somewhat in response to the Polillo DMV fiasco) I will admit I was lucky enough to visit the DMV in FL and WA as well as the Security Forces office on base, and each time walked out, first try, with all items accomplished. There were certainly road blocks at each office, but my smooth charm and often times more money was the answer. If you are unfamiliar with the Polillo story ( Polillo Blog ) I can only say, don't register your car in VA.

Sadly, I have not one single photo of the Chevy Envoy and Uhaul trailer in tow. How did that happen?

Drink from the Fire Hose

As you might have noticed, we haven't updated our blog for a few weeks. Well fear not merry followers, prepare to drink from the fire hose... of information that is!

If you have never seen the movie UHF - you should Netflix/Redbox it.