Archives
All posts by James
About mid October of last year my little brother Ben sent me a YouTube video of this Spanish chick and her American boyfriend, Bobby, who take the Amtrak California Zephyr line from Chicago to San Francisco. She narrates their trip and seems a little too enthusiastic about the folding hooks in the sleeping car (first class, btw) and how the little shelves become steps to the upper bunk. When the train pulls them by Bobby’s hometown she declares him to be “Happy Bobby. Look at Happy Bobby.”
This was just the push we needed. We had been talking about taking a train trip, and the bonus of ending with a few nights in San Fransisco sealed the deal.
So we hopped on a Southwest flight to Denver to catch the Amtrak California Zephyr the following morning.
I hadn’t been to Denver since pre-COVID and most of the restaurants I remembered on Larimer Square had closed. We settled on a place called Tamayo. It always seems silly to me to eat Mexican food in another city when we have so many amazing Tex-Mex restaurants in Dallas but Tamayo was a delicious surprise.
We toasted to our upcoming trip with eleven dollar margaritas.
How on Earth does a restaurant stay in business selling margaritas for only eleven bucks?
Our Denver Hotel promised a car service to drive us to the Denver Union Station, at least the website AND night clerk both made that promise. It was a different story coming from the 6 am desk clerk, she could not honor that promise. In fact she didn’t know why the night clerk would tell us that at all – she was the only one on staff at that time of the morning. Luckily it was only a 10 minute walk to the station, and an absolutely beautiful morning to boot.
Plus we got to walk up to the sunrise lit Denver Union Station.
We grabbed a quick breakfast at Snooze – inside/outside of the Denver Union Station. Highly recommend this place; pineapple upside down pancakes, crab cake Benedict, and sweet potato pancakes should grease your wheels. Especially if you have an 8:15 AM train departure, like we did.
The Amtrak California Zephyr is actually a combination of a few different routes. The original California Zephyr was privately owned and ran a slightly different route through just Nevada and California. The current Amtrak route runs 2,400 miles, about 51.5 hours, between Chicago and Emeryville, Ca.- just across the bay from San Francisco. This is the second longest line that Amtrak runs. We caught up with it about a quarter into its trip.
The YouTube chick and Happy Bobby gushed over the luxuriousness of the train. We mocked her every time we discovered a new light switch, “Happy Bobby!”, the single electrical outlet for two adults with three devices each, or the 4-inch wide closet, “Happy Bobby!”
Our berth was fine, trust me.
Fine, but 2 inches of foam mattress are far from luxurious.
My brother Ben had served in the navy on the USS Constellation, and he swears that his military rack (1 of 3 bunk beds stacked) was larger than what we had in our Amtrak-provided, fist class coffin.
In all honesty, the inside of the train didn’t matter so much because as we slowly ascended into the Rockies, the views grew more and more than spectacular.
This was what it was all about.
The views did not disappoint.
Most of the time that we wound through the Rockies we hugged the Colorado river where we saw deer, caribou, a fox, a mountain goat, and even 3 bald eagles…. One of which was catching a fish.
I shit you not.
I watched a friggin’ bald eagle swoop down from the sky and jerk a fish out of the Colorado river.
Here’s an interesting factoid; people like to moon trains as they pass. Every time we saw a group of fishermen, or rafters, it was a guarantee that at least one on them would bend over and show us their…. ummm…. bare cheeks.
I had no idea.
First class meals were served in the dining car, at shared tables. Even if there were empty tables, the hostess would still wrangle us all together. It was a great way to meet the people traveling with us, most of which were veterans.
The menu looked pretty good but only half of it was available… something about a broken griddle.
Dinner was by far the best Amtrak meal, they gave us actual dishes and real metal silverware for that one; started with Caprese skewers and coconut shrimp…
Couldn’t get a grilled steak, like “Happy Bobby” did, but the Salmon with couscous was delcious.
Desert was a pretty decent cheesecake…
The sweeping views of northern Utah were the perfect compliment to the meal.
You know, aside from the occasional bare butt.
We returned to our berth to find that our red cap attendant had already prepared us for bedtime… at 7:45.
With no internet – did I mention that the train was without WiFi? because it was – and nothing to look at outside the windows except the pitch black Utah night, bedtime seemed like a decent option.
In the morning we found the train much lighter. While we were “sleeping” (a term I use loosely) we stopped in Provo and Salt Lake, relieving the train of several tour groups headed to Yellowstone.
This left the observation car nearly empty. It seems the second class passengers, the ones who paid for only a single seat, would camp out in the observation car and occupy 2 seats; one for themselves and a second for their luggage.
But now it was nearly barren and we had a perfect view of northern Nevada.
You may ask ,”With no wifi and spotty cel signals, what on earth did you boys talk about for 36 hours?” We talked about everything. Ben mostly talked about history, and anyone who’s ever spent more than 20 minutes alone with me knows that they will hear more about American glass Christmas ornaments than anyone could ever want to know.
Just ask my coworkers.
Northern California still had snow on the ground. A LOT of snow.
The Zephyr hit Emeryville just about 2 hours late because there hade been two medical emergencies along the route. We watched as one person was removed from the train strapped to a gurney. Our train conductor apologized for the “Mur…ehh…medical emergencies” and we both began to wonder just how rough was it at the back end of the train in steerage?
It was just a quick Uber over the Bay Bridge…
to our hotel by the Pier, the Hotel Zephyr.
If you’re keeping track, our train was the Zephyr and our hotel was also the Zephyr.
Pure coincidence.
Quirky hotel but we both liked it. How could we not? We each had a king size bed and a private bathroom, this place was the Ritz Carlton compared to the past 39 hours.
Visiting Alcatraz has always been a goal of mine. The few other times I’ve been in San Fransisco I was working and there just wasn’t time for a visit, plus the tours sell out weeks in advance. No worries this time because Ben booked tickets months ahead of our trip.
It was just a 15 minute boat ride across the San Francisco Bay to the island – which is just under a mile and a half. In the history of Alcatraz no escapee has been able to swim this distance; at least none that have been verified as surviving the cold water and strong currents. It doesn’t look that far to me. If 14 year-old Boy Scouts are required to swim a mile for their swimming merit badge then I think that I could make it….
If I had a wet suit,
and I was still in my 20’s.
But I’m pretty sure that I could make that swim.
Alcatraz Island is a small island just slightly more than a mile offshore from San Francisco. In the mid-19th century the island was developed into a fortress, complete with lighthouse and military prison, to defend the San Francisco Bay Area. In 1934 the island was converted into Alcatraz Federal Penitentiary. The strong current and icy-cold water temperatures made escape from the island “nearly” impossible. Upkeep from the daily saltwater beatings the structures took outweighed the cost of maintaining the facility and Attorney General Bobby Kennedy closed the prison in 1963.
If you go, I highly recommend that you take the audio tour. The narrators – former guards and inmates – guide you through the prison building with stories of notorious residents, riots, and breakouts – some successful.
The island, now a national park, was surprisingly beautiful – covered in succulents and agave. Unfortunately it also was nesting season for the bay area sea birds. Some were a little aggressive and hissed at us to stay away… which wasn’t a problem since most of the bird infested areas of the island reeked of sulphur and dead fish.
Our hotel was just across the street from Pier 39 so we waddled over to check out the seal lions.
The sea lions first appeared at the pier in 1989 just after an earthquake. Sea lions are opportunistic and found the San Francisco Bay to be a pretty decent place to live; where they are a protected species, with plenty of food and no natural predators – which, aside from orcas, is mostly just human interference. At one point there were over a thousand settled amongst the touristy restaurants an tchotchke shops but now the pack seems to be a steady 93.
Since we didn’t do quite enough walking on Alcatraz Island to make up for that veal-feeding-pen of a train car, we thought we’d get in a few more steps for the week and walk across the Golden Gate Bridge.
The Golden Gate Bridge opened in 1937 and spans the 1.7 miles between San Francisco and Marin County. It’s highest point is 746 feet and the clearance below is 220 feet. Ben tells me that when he was in San Francisco for “Fleet Week” that his aircraft carrier had to wait until low tide to pass under it.
We passed maybe 15 people, most on bikes, on our walk across.
There was a policeman patiently stationed in the middle of the bridge as a suicide deterant. That was unexpected…. and dark.
He’s an interesting factoid that I did not know until this trip; the bridge was painted red so that it can be seen through the notoriously thick bay-area fog by oncoming boats or, heaven forbid, planes.
Perfectly beautiful weather for the Angus boys though.
On our last night of the trip, before our 10:30 am flight back to Dallas, we celebrated in the Tonga Room at the Fairmont Hotel.
We honestly followed a couple of tipsy girls from Austin to this hidden gem of a tiki bar.
Two of Ben’s most favorite things are “tiki culture” – the cocktail/entertaining style boomed after US vets returned from being stationed in the South Pacific – and Sailor Jerry. And two of my most favorite things are strong cocktails and Hawaiian shirts.
We found all that and more at the Tonga Room.
The Tonga Room & Hurricane Bar is a restaurant and tiki bar located in the Fairmont Hotel in San Francisco. Although it was named after the South Pacific nation of Tonga, the menu encompasses many different South Pacific and Asian cultures. In 1945, the Tonga Room replaced the Terrace Plunge, an indoor swimming pool that was installed in the Fairmont in 1929. The pool never left, it simply became the Tonga Room’s “lagoon”…. where it rains every 15 minutes – complete with thunder and lightening.
We sat pool-side, er, lagoon-side.
We enjoyed a Pacific delicacy called a “Pu-Pu” platter. It was the only way to get the house-made Spam. And we were not leaving until we tasted that. (Spam, short for “spiced ham”, was one of the lasting influences that American G.I.s had on tiki culture.)
It was delish,
So was everything else on the sampler; spring rolls, edamame, tuna tostadas.
We also tried the warm creamy coconut curry; with scallops, muscles, and calamari.
Also delish.
We toasted a “Zombie” and a “Fog Hunter” to the end of an absolutely amazing trip.
Maybe it was the house band belting out Toto’s “Africa”. (my ringtone, btw)
Maybe it was decor designed by an actual Disney imagineer.
Maybe it was because our stuffed bellies were topped off with mango panna cotta.
But Ben declared that this, this moment right here, was his best “Happy Bobby” moment of the trip.
I couldn’t agree more.
Happy Bobby, indeed.
When I was in college I spent the weekend with a fraternity brother at his parent’s house in Houston for his birthday.
My finances were usually tight and I was never one to turn down a few days of free meals (and access to someone else’s liquor cabinet). They had a small group of family friends and relatives over and Bryan’s mother made us a Stouffer’s lasagna.
I remember thinking how sad it was that he made the seven hour drive to Houston, to see his parents on his birthday, and his mother put a six pound frozen pasta-brick in the oven.
That was the first time I’d had a Stouffer’s lasagna – or any frozen lasagna – and I remember that it was fine.
Flavorless,….. and fine.
If I had invited a fraternity brother to our house for the weekend my mother would have actually made a lasagna, or white chicken chili, and at the very least her chocolate cherry cake.
When I was growing up we had family diner every night – we rarely went to restaurants because anything they served could always be made better at home. For every meal we sat at the kitchen table, napkins in laps, television turned off and a conversation topic other than who threw up a school that day. Everybody usually helped with the preparation; someone was in charge of a veggie, my brother Josh would be on the grill, and I made the salad.
From a very young age we were involved in the cooking. My mother taught me to roast a chicken when I was eight.
It wasn’t just food that brought us together as a family, it also connected us to our past.
How could I ever make chicken paprika without thinking about my grandmother?
A couple decades ago my mother’s sister Jean was quizzing my grandmother about a dish neither of them had made in a years, and neither of them could remember the exact recipe. Not so much the ingredients but also the techniques it took.
That’s when she started writing them down.
It wasn’t long after that that my Aunt Jean presented me with my personal copy of those family recipes she’s been compiling; like chicken paprika, stuffed peppers, pirogi, rhubarb custard pie, and cabbage rolls. Nothing fancy, nothing overly complicated.
Just the same good food we’d been eating at those family diners all of our lives.
She called her book “Family Secrets”.
But it was so much more than just a recipe book, it was also a charm-filled read.
Because recipes, and more importantly the techniques, weren’t the only thing that my aunt had documented. She also incorporated stories about her family. There are tales of growing up Polish Catholic in a small town, and her childhood summers in Ohio, of my young grandparents, their neighbors, family holidays, and, of course, every story ends with a meal.
Last month she had the joy of seeing her book published.
Good thing too, because my original copy is a little stained (I prefer to think of it as “seasoned”) after all these years.
That’s my Aunt Jean, with my mother and my Aunt Pat, on the cover.
If you care to mosey on over to Amazon and grab yourself a copy I guarantee it’ll be worth your while.
I don’t cook as much as I used to.
But when I do,
These are the dishes that remind me of those family diners at the kitchen table.
If y’all know your Robert Preston/Shirley Jones musicals then you already know that “P” stands for
POOL!
That’s right. We took the plunge (sorry) and got a pool.
After interviewing with about 30 pool companies, (No lie. The ones that bothered to return emails and phone calls anyway,) we finally met with Pools123.
We knew we wanted a pool… but weren’t really sure what kind of pool we wanted.
Apparently it was a “plunge” pool – that means it’s too small for diving but just the right size for a couple of old dudes to cool off in.
And Pools123 had just that. We choose the Harmony model; 10′ X 20′ X 5′ deep – just the right scale for the size of our humble yard.
This is the pic of the Harmony from the Pools123 catalog.
Beautiful, right?
Since their pools are all fiberglass the installation is so fast and even better yet economical.
Two details we’re always looking for.
Let’s start at the very beginning, here’s the plan that Pools123 did for us…
and the actual space we were working with…
(Please ignore the curious boxer in the pic – it’s nearly impossible to take any pictures without a dog, or even two dogs, insisting on being into the shot.)
When we returned from Puerto Rico last July, this pile was waiting for us.
Hard to believe that this was all the equipment they needed. But it was.
It was a warm Monday morning in late July when the crew arrived and marked off the digging spot in blue.
Clearly we got to keep the tree, the solitary tree in our backyard, but the post for the hammock wasn’t quite so lucky.
When the backhoe arrived, I sat on the deck and watched the entire dig.
Honestly, I think it took about 45 minutes.
He would scoop and then twirl the backhoe to unload into a dump truck waiting behind him in the alley.
When the guys were satisfied with the size and shape of the hole, they filled it with a layer of pea gravel to level off the bottom.
That little ledge on the right is where the bench part of the form will rest.
They then used the same backhoe to “crane” the pool through our alley, into the backyard, and lowered ever-so-gently into place.
Here’s an interesting fact about fiberglass pools, they fill them with water before backfilling the ground around them to keep them from warping. Those struts in the middle of the pool are part of that structure system too.
Who knew?
Here’s where we landed at the end of day two.
The next step was clay.
Lots and lots of beautiful red clay to lay the foundation for the concrete deck.
So, this is where we went slightly off script…
and kind of expanded the concrete deck…
just a little.
Ok, maybe we extended the concrete deck A LOT.
If you scroll back up and check the original plan you’ll see there was only supposed to be a 3 foot border of concrete around the pool.
And, you know, I was going to build “something” to extend the deck.
But this just seemed right.
I have to admit that I was a little nervous about turning our entire backyard into a sea of concrete
Jamie had the concrete guys stamp our initials into one of the corners with a branding iron.
After the crew trenched and ran electricity for the pool pump, it was my responsibility to replace my pea gravel and concrete paver pathway to the tool shed/potting bench.
Of course, there was also sprinkler repair and new sod laid. We have two big dogs that need a place to run, play and (ahem) poop. Even though they both prefer to poop in the pea gravel.
I also replaced the missing fence sections and re-stained the entire fence with a coat of Russet stain so everything looks fresh.
Ohhh, and I built a smaller version of our fence to hide the pool equipment, with a completely removable front panel for easy access.
Huge improvement, I know.
We can’t thank Pool123 enough for the ease, and speed, of making our humble backyard into the oasis we always knew it could be.
As a quick reminder, here’s what the backyard looks like just about 12 years ago…
and the relaxing space that we’ve created since….
No comparison, right?
I know which yard I’d rather spend my time in.
As always, there’s still a few more projects to finish the space; like a little landscaping, maybe a few new furniture pieces, a kegerator would be nice, or even French doors installed off the living room and master bedroom.
Stay tuned.
But, in the meantime…
“POOL PARTY AT THE CAVENDER HOUSE!”
It’s going to be a great summer.
Yes, I realize that Christmas was a couple months ago at this point,
But I really wanted to share our trip, and the handful of the quintessential New York touristy things we did;
Like visiting the top of the Empire State Building.
There are actually 3 different observation decks on the top of the Empire State Building, and we hit them all.
Each smaller,
higher,
and slightly more fear-inducing than the last.
I believe you can see the Archer hotel – where we stayed a few years ago on our last New York trip – just over Jamie’s right shoulder seam.
Spent a day slowly wandering around the Museum of Modern Art.
Skip the Met Folks, this is where it’s at.
Wyeth, Picasso, Monet, Frieda, Polock, T.C. Cannon, Hopper, Warhol;
I honestly didn’t know that Van Gogh’s Stary Night was there…. I just turned a corner and there it was.
I think it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen in person.
A close second place would be the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center.
It wouldn’t be Christmas in Manhattan without the department store windows, this is what I do for a living after all, and the Holiday windows at Bergdorf Goodman never disappoint.
Since we each pick a couple activities whenever we travel, and Jamie has always wanted to take a helicopter tour of the city, we booked a tour with Manhattan Helicopters.
It was a hazy morning when we started, and we could just make out the outline of the Empire State Building through the fog. But all this burned off nicely as we rounded the Statue of Liberty and the lowest part of downtown.
If you ever have the chance, I highly recommend it. The entire tour lasted about 15-20 minutes but we both agreed that it was definitely worth the money. Be sure to book it in advance though.
Now it was my turn.
I’ve always wanted to go skating in Rockefeller Center and we’ve never had a chance before because the limited amount of tickets sell out pretty quickly.
Not this time, we bought our tickets in November.
Turns out that neither of us is a very good skater.
But that’s not the point of skating in Rockefeller Center, now is it?
Even though it was bitter cold – for a couple Texans – we wandered through Central Park and ate various crap off of food carts.
Not everything we ate was off a sketchy food cart, we had Christmas Eve diner at the Polo Bar.
I have better manners than to shoot off a bunch of random pics in a restaurant, but it was pretty exciting and I did manage to get a few stealthy pictures.
Like the heat-stamped ice cube in my cocktail. (Notice the polo mallet stir stick too)
And the chocolate pudding cake we shared for dessert.
It was a short trip, and over much too soon, but one we won’t soon forget either.
It just wouldn’t feel like Christmas without a house tour.
Even if we’re not home this year, we still wanted to open our home.
I found a set of these red Noma bells at an estate sale a while back and knew immediately what I’d do with them. Four more sets and a box of “blinkers” later and I swear our front door has never looked so festive.
The big tree this year is entirely American unsilvered glass World War 2 era ornaments.
When silver nitrate – used to make ornaments reflective – was deemed unnecessary during the war, the ornament designers countered with hand-painted details and colors that look like stained glass…. especially when the sunlight shines through them.
If you look closely, you’ll notice that some of them even have pieces of tinsel inside and a few have paper caps and hangers – those are the absolute rarest.
On the mantle is my ever-growing collection of plastic Santas.
Made by companies like Union, Miller, Empire, Rosen and Rosbro. Most of these are dime store candy containers.
One of them is even a baby rattle.
My Rosbro snowmen candy containers have been moved to the coffee table with a vase of Kentlee glass candy canes.
There’s a smaller tree filled with quite a few early Corning-made ornaments. These were designed by the Stuben glass division of Corning. The designers looked for inspiration from German imports, but their deco shapes were more streamlined and decidedly American looking.
I’m completely obsessed with finding them.
The C-6 cone lights and punched tin reflectors are from the 40s too. They heat up pretty quickly, so I have them on a tabletop dimmer.
There’s a third tree in the living room
This one’s even more 1940s ornaments; mostly early stencils and hand-painted designs.
If you’ll look closely, you’ll see there’s also a flock of Santas.
I’m pretty sure they were made by the Coby Glass Company.
Anyhoo…. Scooby,
And the rest of us wanted to wish y’all a Very Merry Christmas.
And a Shiny & Brite New Year!
It’s so unbelievably nice to be able to travel again.
Puerto Rico may sound exotic, but it’s still part of the United States, and entering was relatively painless.
We simply uploaded our vaccination cards, and checked in daily with a local health app.
We’d been there about 9 years ago, with our dear friends the Pecks, and spent a single night before our Caribbean cruise. That one night was enough to convince us that we had to come back and spend more time.
So very glad we did.
We landed in sunny San Juan on Tuesday and flew back home Saturday afternoon.
Perfect amount of time for us to…
Visit the Castillo San Felipe del Morrow Fortress, (that has been guarding the port of San Juan for centuries)…
And waddle around the blue cobble-stone streets of Old San Juan…
And, of course, enjoy mojitos and soak in the sun on Isla Verde Beach….
And take a day trip to the El Yunque National Rainforest…
And take a cooling dip in the waters of the Rio Espiritu Santo (River of the Holy Spirit) at the Cascadas Saltos waterfall…
And eat mofongo – a local delicacy of smashed plantains and pork in a sweet creole sauce – and drink guava sangria…
I know, right?
GUAVA-FREAKIN’-SANGRIA!
And just plain goof around the resort…
It’s good to be back home,
Where they are currently, as I type this, installing our pool.
But it was also nice to return to a little more normalcy in our lives.
I know, I know… this year’s been a disaster.
I can’t even get my shit together long enough to post my Christmas pictures before Christmas.
Being a hoarder/collector of vintage Christmas, there’s almost always a pile of old ornaments on the kitchen counter, or on the coffee table, and the kitchen counters…
or my desk….
And the floor under my desk….
Anyhoo, since hardly anyone got to see any of this in person, I just had to share with the interwebs.
Enjoy.
The “Big” tree isn’t really that big; it’s only 7 foot.
The bubble lights are modern, I get them on Amazon lately, but the big Japanese lanterns are actually patio lights from the 60s.
Since last year the tree was entirely American glass, this year I crammed it with only European ornaments. About 95% Polish teardrops and reflectors, from companies like Fantasia Glass and Santa Land, that are hand-painted with Santas, snowmen, girls in ballgowns, bells, Poinsettias, and snowy cabins and churches. There’s also a sprinkling of free-blown Italian ornaments, mostly made by the De Carlini family, of all my favorite characters; Mickey/Minnie, Peter Pan, Captain Hook, Linus/Lucy, Tinkerbell, and Frosty.
The Italian Santa topper I found at a rummage sale for $5…. no lie.
And I debated whether or not I needed it.
Obviously, I did.
On the coffee table there’s a mercury-glass bowl that holds glass ornaments all year long.
These are all American, made by Corning Glass in the late 30s and early 40s, and featuring a few of the more unusual shapes; disco balls, grapes, a guitar, American Santa Claus and a few lanterns. My favorite is the square lantern with the stars on the sides.
I started collecting these glass candy canes just a few years ago. They were mostly made in the 1940s by the American company Kentlee.
The little plastic skater next to them is really a candy container made by Rosbro in the 1950s.
On the mantle are a few lighted Santas. The big one is Union and he’s a very hard plastic. The smaller “blow-mold” Santa was made by Empire and is their most popular Santa shape.
These toy Santas are mostly Rosbro candy containers, sold at five and dime stores in the 50s and 60s. The tallest Santa once held a wreath, that’s why he has his arms spread and holes in his hands. (I can’t afford one with a wreath) The second tallest Santa – with the crown – is a “King Santa” made by Harett-Gilmar, he’s a bank.
This table-top tinsel tree is the perfect way to display my 1930s Corning pinecones. Most glass pinecone ornaments were made in either Germany or Japan, and are a little more “organic” looking, so these guys really stand out with their perfect, American deco symmetry.
I absolutely love hunting for them.
On the TV console is a small white “feather” tree with figural light bulbs.
(The Roy Rogers magazine above it is from January? of 1952 and depicts Roy decorating a tree with Shiny Brites)
Once I knew what look for, I find these guys all the time for just a few bucks. They were produced in Japan and I think peaked in popularity in the 1930s. Once one of them stopped working – the whole string stopped working – so most people would hang them as ornaments. Because Santas and bells are a dime a dozen, now I focus on the more unusual characters.
At the other end of the console, next to the photo of our sweet Harley Davidson with a wreath around her neck, is a small styrofoam cone filled with vintage Holiday pins.
Just when y’all think all this stuff is mine… this is Jamie’s collection.
He even found the silver ice bucket it’s in.
The shabby little deer is a vintage bank from Montgomery Wards, the company that invented Rudolf the red-nosed reindeer. (They did, Google it). At one point he had a red light bulb in his nose that would light every time you dropped a coin in his slot. (I can’t afford one with a light-up nose either)
Across the room, next to Christmas cards and plastic Noma bells, there’s a small, dingy tinsel tree crammed – and I mean CRAMMED – with unsilvered striped ornaments. When silver nitrate was rationed during WW2 American ornament companies countered with clear glass ornaments; sometimes with a piece of tinsel inside for sparkle.
The colored lights are C-6 size cones with Diamond Ray punched tin reflectors. Because they heat up so intensely, and I also want them to last another 80 years, I dim them with a table-top dimmer.
The plastic Santa on top seems to ruffle a lot of “vintage Christmas purest’s” feathers because he’s from a completely different decade than the ornaments and lights.
He’s a 1950s Santa Glo tree top or wall plaque.
And as if that weren’t enough options, he also sits flat on a table.
Shiny Brites that didn’t make it onto a tree this year are stacked next to my War-era tree in their 1950’s boxes.
As if you can’t tell… it’s my favorite vintage ornament box.
Even more Shiny Brites fill a glass cylinder on the kitchen table.
The slim tinsel tree in the living room is filled with Premier ornaments. Premier was a small American ornament company that competed with Shiny Brite for almost 20 years. Shiny Brite eventually bought them out and converted several Premier molds to fit their own wider caps. I think their bright colors shine like precious jewels on the silver.
Found this galvanized “Holiday Flowers” tub at a junk store last year. I’m sure it’s from Home Goods or Pottery Barn or some other such place…. but I really like it.
And it works perfectly lifting this tree up another 2 feet.
Here’s even more of Jamie’s collections, ceramic trees.
These were pretty popular in the 60s and 70s.
So that’s our post-holiday house tour.
Hope y’all enjoyed.
MERRY CHRISTMAS
So here’s a situation we didn’t expect to be in this soon.
This was our main bathroom a few short weeks ago.
Not bad,
Not particulary memorable either.
We’ve known about a water leak somewhere, there was always a small puddle on the floor behind the toilet. (No surprise really, the whole bathroom floor slopes slightly towards that one corner.)
One day the toilet tipped… as if it weren’t even attached to the floor… and we knew we’d better address the situation immediately. The broken toilet had to go. We’d been planning to replace it with a match to the one in the Master bathroom anyway.
So I grabbed a hammer and a crowbar to find that reason for the loose toilet AND the constant puddle.
No surprise, the toilet wasn’t attached to the floor anymore.
The flange had broken away from the drain pipe. Completely. Probably years ago. See that pipe with a rag stuffed in it? There should be a flange attached to the top of it to hold the toilet to the floor….
and there isn’t.
Honestly, my first intent was to just to replace/repair as much of the floor as I could, but once I started tearing things out…. I couldn’t stop. The floor tile, the damp MDF underlayment (don’t use MDF as an underlayment. EVER), tar-paper, a layer of linoleum floor (probably original to the house), down to the damp/rotted subfloor. The sink cabinet went next (I’ve never cared for it), the sink, the tile half-way up the walls, ALL of the drywall – down to the studs, everything surrounding the shower,
I was like an unstoppable machine,
until I got to the cast iron tub.
There was no way that beast was moving for us.
I grabbed a Bagster from the Home Depot ($30 for the bag, about $175 for the company to fetch it once it’s full) and we filled it with bathroom shrapnel in a day. The very same day that our neighborhood’s big trash pick up was.
And the city took it. For FREE.
On to Bagster numero dos. This one was solely for the cast iron bath tub. Our plumber removed the thing and dragged it to the curb, where the scrap metal guy, who regularly patrols our neighborhood, pounced on it in less than an hour.
Our second FREE Bagster removal.
That constant leak rotted out a good amount of the subfloor. Which we removed.
Once again, we had a reverse-Nevada-ish shaped hole in a bathroom floor.
Benjamin Franklin Plumbing did the work on our other bathroom and I can only think of good things to say about them. Although, this may just be a coincidence, but two out of the last three plumbers had grandmothers die while working for us.
I’m not implying that they were lying.
That’s their karma to deal with.
It’s just that the mortality rate for our plumber’s grandmothers seems to be unexpectedly high.
Plumber Johnny arrived early, and after surveying my damage – and 20 minutes of math in his truck – he came back with a plan of attack. And at a decent price.
You’re hired.
The only wrinkle was that Johnny couldn’t start for a week…. his grandmother had just died.
No lie.
One week later Johnny returned and removed that tub so I could replace the subfloor with a level layer of plywood. (Sistered up all the old floor joists too for some extra stability)
Who doesn’t like an empty box of a room with limitless possibilities?
Now, I’m probably not the most tech savvy guy – Jamie will enthusiastically tell y’all about my flip phone and foil-covered TV antenna that I had when we met – but in the land of online shopping;
I’m a fearless Viking.
In just under an hour I’d ordered a modern toilet, beveled subway tile, and a new door with a frosted glass insert from the Home Depot. Sink, sink cabinet, and shaving mirror from Ikea. Scored an out of production Ikea faucet for a song on eBay. Can lights, bathroom fan, towel bar, and even a modern/industrial light for over the mirror. The West Elm mirror was the only thing we salvaged from the old bathroom.
Still needed a bath tub and all the shower fixturing.
So Jamie and I made a trek to Apex Plumbing Supply to survey deep bathtubs and shower fixtures (I’d been demolishioning all day and probably looked a little….. homeless; ratty T-shirt, shoes with holes, and drywall in my hair) where I was promptly met with,
get this shit…
“Did you need something?”
No kidding. That’s honestly how the chick at the showroom greeted me; like I was freakin’ Julia Roberts trying to buy a cocktail dress on Rodeo Drive in the early 90s.
Obviously, everything there was “VERY expensive”.
At least we established who wouldn’t be getting the commission off of our meager purchase.
While the bitch with the attitude was distracted on the phone with a “real” customer, Ricardo helped us. What he may have lacked in product knowledge, he more than made up for with his people skills.
Here’s the new tub Ricardo had delivered to us.
Beautiful, ain’t she?
And deep. OOOh so very deep.
Especially compared to the 7-inch deep, cast iron “tray” we’d been bathing in for the last 9 years.
Some of us couldn’t wait to try it with water in it..
There is exactly 67 inches between the studs, and bathtubs come in standard sizes of 60 and 66 inch widths. “The bigger the better”, we thought…… anticipating the major wrestling match to get the darn thing in the space. But I didn’t want that weird 6 inches of wasted space on the left side of the tub.
But ya know what? There was hardly any issue at all. A little wiggling was all it took for us to get her through the door opening and sandwiched perfectly in place.
(I was seriously prepared to remove an entire wall if need be.)
Best part, it weighs about 60 pounds. The glory of fiberglass, ladies and gentlemen.
Plumber Johnny returned again and plumbed the tub drain, then set all the knobs, spouts and diverters for the fixtures. I furred the walls to prep for…..
Hardie-board.
Starting to look like a bathroom!
Am I right?
Jamie ran mesh seam tape over all the seams….
Then spread mortar over all the tape and screw heads, to keep them water-tight.
But the real water-proofing is in the Red Guard water-proofing membrane.
Jamie smeared it on all the wet surfaces.
Up Next: Tile.
So, I know what most of y’all are probably thinking. “Here he goes again. 3 years of teasing us with a bathroom remodel with no climax.”
Not this time.
I assure you.
Stay tuned…
There was a squirrel nest in the only tree in the backyard, and intricately woven into that ball of leaves and twigs was a long strip of a weathered American flag.
It stopped me in my tracks.
It was like when that dove shit on Dianne Lane in Under the Tuscan Sun.
The squirrels here were decorating with American flags.
They get me.
It was a clear sign to me that that this was the house for us.
That we were home.
Flash forward a couple years to the moment when I caught our back-door neighbor (I like to use the term “Back-Door Neighbor” because it sounds like the title of a 70’s porn) shooting at the squirrels with a pellet gun…
and I just lost my shit on him.
Seriously,
LOST.
MY.
SHIT.
He never said a single word of rebuttal, just stood there staring at me as I loudly ranted; comparing him to Jeffrey Dahmer and Ed Gein – both of whom tortured and killed small animals as children. I know, I know. I should have held my temper. He did, after all, have immediate access to a gun… it was still in his hand.
But these were MY squirrels. Squirrels that I had names for. I feed them in the winter months leaving pecans along the top of the fence. I talk to them whenever I do yard work, and they talk to me too. They really do. They let me know whenever there’s a cat in the alley. When I chase one out of my fig tree they never hold back their disagreement, chattering loudly at me from a safe distance above our yard, that the figs are just as much theirs as they are mine.
Which they aren’t.
Yes, of course I should have done the adult thing and apologized to the neighbor for being so overly-emotional – we might be living next to each other for the rest of our lives – but within a month he had sold his house and moved…
…for reasons that I’m relatively sure were completely unrelated to me – the high strung, rodent-loving fag across the alley.
Anyhoo, Jamie saw one of these things on the internets the other day and since I have a butt-load of scrap wood in the garage, ferrel animals that need pampering, and all the free time in the world, I thought I’d give it a go.
I’ve included some basic instructions just incase y’all might wanna try making one of your own.
(I used pressure treated lumber, only because that’s what I had on hand, but you can use whatever wood you like.)
Here’s what ya need to cut;
- 5 – 1″X2″, 8″ long
- 2 – 1″X2″, 5 3/4″ long
- 4 – 1″X2″, 4 3/4″ tip to tip
- 2 – 1″X1″, 9 1/2″ long
Start with the table top, Line up 3 of the 8″ boards, table top planks, with a 1/4 inch spacing between them.
In case y’all are wondering how three 2 inch boards lay on top of a 5 3/4 inch board with space between them, it’s important to point out that a 2 inch wide board is really 1 3/4 inches wide – wood shrinkage, apparently. “Why don’t they just cut the wood slightly larger to accommodate for the shrinkage?” you may ask. No clue. It’s been driving me crazy for decades… but every single straight man on the planet just accepts this fact. So let’s move on….
I attached the top cross pieces to the table planks with drywall screws. Be sure to leave distance between the cross piece and the ends of the table planks; 1 inch at one end and 3/4 an inch at the other.
Next I built the seats with the remaining 8 inch planks and the two 1X1s. Also leaving 3/4 inch distance on one side and 1 inch on the other. The narrower side will go up against the tree.
For the legs, I set my miter saw at 22.5 degrees, that’s one quarter of 90 degrees, and cut 4 of them at 4 3/4 inches long.
The legs I attached with a brad nailer because I didn’t want to see the screws on my finished table.
Then I slipped my seat piece in-between the legs, resting just about an inch from the bottom of the feet, and brad nailed it too.
And here’s my finished table.
The front has a slight overhang, while the back of it is flat so it will hang flush on a tree, or fence, or wherever.
I obviously just screwed mine to the side of our tree, about 8 feet up –
just high enough to really piss of our dog,
and baited it with raw peanuts.
Didn’t take long for Jamie to snap a shot of one of our squirrels enjoying it.
I think this goes without saying, but it’s mounted on our side of the tree and not facing our new backdoor neighbors; Anna and Diego.
They don’t really strike me as the types who would shoot at little animals…
…but I have no intention of helping them with their target practice either.
You’re welcome squirrels.
Now stay out of my fig tree.
THE CAVENDER DIARY 