Day 51 - in which the Schweitz kicks some renovation butt

So much has happened in the past week that I've barely had time to eat chocolate.
Barely.
Hold on, I've had time to eat chocolate, but no time for anything else.
A girl has her priorities, after all.

But all jokes aside (not that i was joking), there were times during the week when the house looked suspiciously like a bad episode of Renovation Rescue. Minus the Suzie Wilks babe factor. And after all my whining, we had in one place at one time: landscapers, floor sanders, electricians, carpenters, plumbers and any old riff raff that felt like wandering in off the street. It was manic.
Tony was very happy. I was very exhausted. Who knew it would take so much energy to watch other people work?

But nothing has managed to get our asses into gear like a visit from the Schweitz.
Or at least his ass is very much in gear, and ours is left trailing behind in his Energizer wake.
He is ace.
We've always known he was generous, it's kind of hard to miss someone with his size heart. His generosity is the stuff of family legend and something he would hit me if i wrote about. But when we were still in Melbourne and arrived home one night to find his sleeping bag and his inflatable mattress on our porch to take down with us, we knew he wasn't kidding about coming down and giving us a hand.

He's here a whole week!!

He arrived Monday, and I swear all the Launcestions must have thought the Beatles had reformed and arrived, by the rockstar welcome we gave him. I was yelling 'where is he? I can't see him!' and Tony is all 'he'll be there, don't worry. Oh, there he is, I'd know that scone anywhere.'

Then, we had another little laugh by taking him to a derelict house situated in small court along with McDonalds, a second hand car yard, a cane warehouse and a plaster making factory and telling him it was our place.
The cruelty!!
But by God it was hilarious. And he didn't even look at us like 'you must be kidding me', he just said 'it's changed from the photos, that's for sure.'
lol

But within days, suddenly rooms are getting finished and he's tackling all the things Tony and said 'gawd, who's going to fix that?' about.

All those little things like 'we've pulled out the entire cupboard and screwed the plaster up. How do we fix that?"
Schweitz

'Crap, we thought we were so smart buying those ceiling roses, but how do we get them up?'
Schweitz














Installing the kitchen?
Schweitz

He is a whiz, and in addition, has a repertoire of mild cuss words I'm thinking of employing on a full time basis. Or maybe it's just the way he cusses. He talks to the plaster/switch/ceiling rose like it actually has some say in the matter.
"Don't you dare you buggar. I'm warning you, don't even think about it" all said with such relish it's hard not to stand at the bottom of the ladder and grin. Then he says 'what're you doing? I thought you were getting me a cup of tea?'
lol

I don't think he has any idea how much it means to us to have him here. I keep trying to tell him, but he brushes it off. It's not his skills, although they are awesome and something my Dad would have been so proud of. It's having someone we love so much here and telling us it's all going to be okay. That we're doing okay. First Freya, and now Rob. We are blessed. In fact I feel so grateful that I have stocked my fridge with premium beer just because I know he likes it. I think I will owe him much babysitting of his children while he goes and holidays somewhere exotic.

In other news - we even have grass now, but that will have to wait till next post to dazzle you with it's goodness. For now, here's the halfway done BBQ area.

Day Um...not sure...maybe...lots

Haha! Freya has taken control of the blog! For one post, anyway.
Actually, I bundled up my painting clothes and went down to Lonnie for four days to kick the tires on Robyn's reno, so I thought I'd better report back.
They have a freaking amazing job so far, and i heard a rumor the men were in to sand the floors today, so it will soon look even better.


In honour of my visit we got to stay in a posh hotel. (actually, it was the fact the bathroom looks like this & the washing the hair in the bucket disaster that led to the fancier digs, but let me have my delusions of grandeur) It was opposite the Boags Brewery, but I was without husband, so didn't have to go on a tour.

In their on-going quest for the perfect coffee/pancake/danish, I think R & T have been to every cafe in Launceston. (They're even giving advice to Fat Wombat, the landscape gardener, on where to go for a caffeine hit.)
I don't think they quite believed me when I said I really did come down to paint, so we had to stop eating and start working! (after blinis and bircher muesli, of course)




Here is me and Robyn on the scaffold.
I tried to take the pic, but managed to get all of Robyn and only half of me.










Robyn taking the pic worked much better. Taking a pic of yourself is a real skill!








It seems looking at the camera is also a skill.


Now it's time to boast. So here's a pic of the bit I did. I did the bit under the window and the rest of the wall after I took this and also bit you can't see, around the other side, but this shot includes Big Al, the little blue trailer.















Here's Robyn and Tony doing the really hard slog up on top of the scaffold. (I went up there to have a look around and found the hardest bit for me was getting down off the bloody thing. Tony's assessment as I struggled to extract myself - Very Graceful. Luckily there is no photographic evidence of how graceful that was. At one stage I thought they were going to have dismantle it to get me out.)


I did take an action shot of me painting to silence the Doubting Husband, who had the suspicion that the trip would be all chocolate & girly alcoholic beverages and no painting.

And look husband, I'm wearing that old shirt of yours to paint in. You know the one that was lying on the floor...what do you mean that wasn't old?








R & T, having been unsuccessful in canceling my ticket and keeping me as a renovation slave, drove me to the airport on Sunday afternoon via a Devonshire Tea. A peacock tried to eat Robyn's.

As you can see by Robyn's face, no one was going to take her scone.









The weekend just flew by, a wonderful mix of cafe, op shop and painting (oh, and sleeping - manual labour, how you tire me!) and today I kept getting that nagging feeling that I should be painting.

Thank you Robyn & Tony for having me.
Any dodgy paintwork is no doubt the bit I did!

Day 40 - in which we discover what SOME people will do for a day off

Word on the street is that I'll do anything to get a day off. Even give myself heart palpitations, numb arms, and shooting pains.

So I spent yesterday at the Launceston General, letting them stick me with needles etc. I've never had an arterial blood test before! It is even more interesting when they let a university student jab away trying to find said artery (unsuccessfully). 'A little more angle, yes, maybe the artery is a little deeper than I led you to suspect.....oh, move to one side, I'll find it."
And then they tell me NOT to be nervous but to hold very very still if I just could. I find I have an unparalleled talent for holding still. I am the holding-still queen.

Anyway, long tedious day short, there's nothing wrong with me (apart from the obvious) and I should try and relax a little.
HA!!

I thought they were going to have to admit Tony, he looked so worried. He even took me out for cake afterward, but not coffee, because let's face it - I obviously create enough stimulation all by myself.

Day 38? I've lost count

Task for the day:
Paint exterior. More specifically - second coat on the tinwork at the front of the house in a desperate attempt to have it finished before the landscapers rock up. In a strange twist of tradesman fate - they came a day early YESTERDAY when we were only halfway through the first coat. They say they're coming back Wednesday....I think you can trust anyone who calls himself 'Fat Wombat'. It bodes well.

Here's where the bathroom is at:
GONE!














Here's where the kitchen is at:
GONE!










And here's the mess we had after all that fun:










And here's where the painting is at:











Renovating is a journey of self discovery. I have discovered i am not at all scared of heights. Happy as a pig in the proverbial way up on the roof, looking out at the mountains, watching the rain clouds come in.
Then swearing at the rain clouds.
Then getting rained on and watching my whole mornings work turn into a puddle. Then clambering down as fast as my legs will carry me when the wind picks up.
Maybe i'm a little bit scared of heights after all.

But I find that unlike city driving, there is very little that can annoy me. I am so laid back you could carry me around in that little yellow bucket I toss the brushes in when I'm on top of the scaffold. Perhaps it is the disintegration of my muscles after all this hard work.

Tomorrow the action heats up (!) with the plumbers/carpenters and landscapers all expected to lob early am.

I, on the other hand, am lobbing myself and Tony into the nearest hotel tomorrow night.

This is after the none-too-glorious experience of washing my long hair in a bucket (yes, the same yellow one) yesterday. And bathing in a tepid pool of inch high water is not up there on my 'must-experience' list either. Put them both together, with me bathing in an inch of water and washing my hair in a bucket while the wind whistles up my wazoo through the crack under the door - and you've got one unhappy little camper.
Which I think in all conscience, I must now add 'camping' to the list of things I have no intention of ever trying.

I'm trying to convince Tony that tripping off ladders and spraining his ankle should never have made it on his list of 'to-do's' but now he's laid up with a bag of peas (the same bag we used on his neck two weeks ago) on his ankle and a very distressed look on his face. Those peas have been frozen and unfrozen so many times they probably don't know what the heck is going on.
Please send him good vibes (Tony, not the peas).

Anyway - I must go back up on the scaffold to finish the eaves. HOLY MOTHER OF GOD this is taking a long time.

Day 32 - in which we haul our aching muscles back up the scaffold

More exterior work today. Here's a pic Tony took of me at the end of the day when all I wanted was a good stiff drink.
He handed me a Midori Illusion.
I said 'that's not stiff enough'
He said 'too bad, it's what you bought'.

Why do I always pick the prettiest bottles in the bottle shop rather than something that will do the job, i.e. knock me out? Perhaps I should take some Panadeine with it.

Just joking, Mum.

So we've done two coats of the top part of half the house. We're going to be at it next easter at this rate. I have also discovered that Builders Bog is the Putty of Satan. It hardens in three minutes, smells like hot fibreglass, and has fumes that feel like they're burning my eyes out. After it glued my rubber gloves together, I made a stand - I don't care if the bucket of it cost $30 -- I'm NOT USING IT!!!

Tony discovered that with a little ingenuity and an even spraying method, he can make the ugly chrome door handle a thing of beauty. I am very impressed. Especially considering when he insisted on buying the spray at Bunnings today, I said : 'Oh, go ahead. But don't come running to me when it looks poxy.'
So of course it looks fabulous.

Then there was the farce of my door lacquering ability. You might remember that we sent the front door off to get dipped. Well it came back and I've been mildly successful in my stain/lacquer job. In fact, I thought I was pretty hot stuff, until we went to look at the other doors today and saw the professional kind of job the dip&strip joint does.
Oh dear.
THEY didn't have any drip marks.
THEY didn't have some areas darker than others; and
THEY didn't have any brush marks whatsoever.

So putting on my best 'i-really-don't-want-to-pay-any-more-but-please-mr-nice-man-please
-varnish-my-doors-for-free' face, while Tony COMPLETELY undermined me by saying 'just pay it. Just pay whatever they want', I proceeded to bargain a whole $20 off the price.
Go me.
So now, at least, the rest of the doors won't be bodgy.

So it's triumphs all round here, as we gear up for a night in which we take a bootful of our dirty washing down to the laundromat and eat take out Chinese while we wait for it to go through spin cycle.

I have such a glamorous life.

Day 27 - In which we move on outside

Exterior, Exterior, our boring white Exterior.
Why do i think you'll be a pain in our posterior?

It's not like we're finished with inside, or anything - but apparently the weather is going to turn NASTY in about three weeks (maybe two) and the people in the know have suggested we get our butts outside and start to paint before it's all too late. I mean, you can see me, can't you, being so very very happy to be outside painting on a cold foggy Launceston morning. Nope. Can't imagine it. In fact it sounds like a quick route to hell.

Which of course begs the question - what the heck colour are we going to paint it? I mean, I thought choosing interior colours was hard - but exterior paint is OUT THERE for the whole world to see when i screw it up majorly.
So much faffing and tooing and frooing has been happening down here.
None of which makes Tony happy.
In fact it makes him very UNhappy.
To the point where yesterday, just before I bought the sample pot he didn't think was necessary to buy, he said to me: "If you change your mind again, I'm going to kill myself."

WELL!

That's quite a forceful and shocking thing to say, when frankly, all I'm trying to do is make it all look good.

So I bought my little sample pot of 'Portland Stone' and spent the afternoon putting it up while he worked like a demon scraping paint off the guttering. And let me tell you, despite my superior understanding of colour and wonderful eye for decorating (ha!) - it looked like total cack.

I'm talking, hey, who rubbed the nappy up on your wall??' kind of cack colour. So disgusting, that I wondered what the heck I could possibly have been thinking. AND to make matters worse, I teamed this godawful colour with a greeny grey that screamed at it just as loud as the screaming in my head.

Ha!

So after a while, Tony came to see what I was up to. He just looked at it and said 'so, we have to find a new colour.'

Thank GOD!!!

So in the end, I trawled the internet and found this NZ company called Resene that makes really pretty exterior colours and two sample pots later we're ready to go. It's not going to set the world on fire - but it's pretty, and i'm happy.

We've got our scaffold (which I'd like to throw our mattress to the top of and sleep on, looks like fun), and Tony has put in some mammoth effort scraping the entire exterior, so there are paint flakes covering the ground.

In other news, I had my first experience with a high pressure cleaner yesterday when I cleaned all the weather boards. And in another one of those 'who knew' moments, it turns out that what i thought was exhaust fumes covering the house is actually a lovely black MOULD.

Attractive. Needless to say, I blasted the crap out of it.

Tony then saw how much fun it all was, and blasted the BBQ area which now looks as good as new. We are exceptionally talented at blasting stuff.

Day 24 - in which we discover the basket of too-hardness

It should probably come as no surprise that we've been finding it hard to pin tradesmen down.
They either:

a) can't quote because they're too busy,
b) don't show up to quote
c) show up and then don't send us the quote,
d) show up to quote but then never show up again
e) have a three month wait period

....ad neuseum. I'm sure you either get the idea, or have experienced it yourself.

But Tony took out the cat herding honors today by booking a tiler AND a plumber AND a floor sander. He is up for some big treats like a back rub or something for his stellar effort. I don't deal well with tradesmen (a fact he refuses to believe). Today he asked me to call one. Being the good and dutiful wife I am (lol) I complied, only for the whole debacle to end with me screeching that it might be all very well and good for HIM (the tradie) to go without a shower, but I SMELL and need to have one, so could he PLEASE tell me when he is coming. It was probably pure embarrassment that caused him to give me the date.

We were going to do the floor sanding ourselves, but after a few days of (Tony) pulling up carpet only to find foam stuck to the floorboards, only to lift that to find CARPET GLUE underneath that, we bow to the fact that IT'S TOO FREAKING HARD and we'd spend two weeks just getting that glue off when a professional will probably do it in two days. In line with the 'each room is a different colour' debacle, each room has a different flooring problem. Some have glue, some mold (ick!) some lift up perfectly. Like these three rooms:













There are times when the money is just well spent. And I'm sure this is one of them. Otherwise, we'll be here so long that I'll have to sign up for the dole to get some money because that seems to be the job of choice down here. That might sound narky, but I assure you, I am merely conveying the truth of the job situation down here. On the news the other night, tassie had the lowest participation in the job force in Australia. Huh??