Building plans
Mr. A put up the tent last night because it was too hot to sleep in the house. This morning I got up early and got several hours of work done before it got too hot to be in the sun; I drank almost two gallons of water between 8 and 5 and I'm still feeling kind of parched.
Most of the afternoon I spent sitting on the patio in front of fan, sketching out pictures of this mythological building that is purported to be in the early stages of planning.... I got out the graph paper and the tape measure and now have it more or less figured out, except for the exact measurements of windows and doors, which will have to wait until after I actually buy them (see below). I also have some technical questions about what sizes and kinds of lumber to use, and where I should use framing connectors (those metal bracket things) and where nailing or toenailing will be okay. Actually, I think we're going to use mostly screws – not nails. And Mr. A likes to use those brackets on all major joints, which I don't necessarily mind, but then again – I'm trying to keep this as simple as possible. On the other hand, I also want it to be sturdy, safe and durable.
So, about the site: I had a flash of inspiration the other night and realized that if I just turn the whole thing about 80 degrees counterclockwise and move it back about five feet, I can nestle it into a sweet little niche between the apple, redwood and eucalyptus trees – a spot that feels much more private and protected and still has a pretty nice view of the east end of the yard. I want to get the tree guy back here to check out the trees before I start building, because I'm still a little nervous about putting anything so close to such large and brittle species of trees. The redwood has one nine-inch side trunk I want to have removed, and we already had the eucalyptus cut way back after a huge branch broke out of the top of it during the New Year's storm last winter.
In anticipation of the green light, though, I went ahead and got the spot cleared today. This involved moving a huge pile of branches Mr. A pruned from the apple trees this spring, which we have not got around to chipping yet, and raking up all the detritus and chopping down seedlings that have sprouted under the trees – six baby oak trees, a couple of different kinds of pine trees, three baby coyote bushes, and a madrone that's about six feet tall that I decided to just trim, since it's a slow-growing tree, and very pretty, and it's almost five feet from where the wall is going to be, so maybe I can enjoy it for some years before it gets so big it has to go.
Next steps – in way more detail than you ever wanted to know:
1. Build the platform. This will be a 10x12-foot platform built on a grid of 20 pier blocks sunk in holes about 6" and infilled with gravel or possibly cement, with 4x6's going lengthwise, and 2x6 joists on top of that, and a floor of either hand-dyed plywood or 2x4's. Before I start this I need to figure out the best way to secure the pier blocks in the ground (have decided against using sonotubes because it's just too hard to dig a decent hole in our super rocky soil – the property was a quarry for 50 years before Mr. A's uncle bought it; that's why he got such a great deal), and the best way to attach the 4x6's to the pier blocks, and whether I really need to use joist hangers, and if so, what kind. Keep in mind this entire house was built and has been standing firm for more than 30 years with no framing connectors at all, except the ones holding the trusses together. Also: are 4x6's overkill? Could I build the whole deck with 2x6's? It's only a 120-square-foot building!
2. Buy doors and windows. My current plan calls for one regular door, one set of French doors, and seven to ten windows of various sizes. And possibly one more door, if I decide to do a back door that would open out from the back wall into the shady cool space under the redwood tree. I know the basic sizes that can work for my plan and will just pick the best ones I can find from whatever's in stock at Urban Ore when we get there.
3. Finish my drawings for framing, based on the measurements of the doors and windows.
4. Figure out how many pieces of each size and kind of lumber I'm going to need, and how many cuts, and what angles, and put together a shopping list for the lumber store. Create a staging area where I can store, cut and label all the various pieces.
5. Add to the shopping list all boxes of nails and screws, hinges, doorknobs, window screening, tubes of caulk, saw blades, drill bits, and all other miscellaneous things you need when you're building something, that you always forget until you're right in the middle of the mess and can't stop to make a run to the store.
6. Also add: roofing. Probably this will be just that corrugated galvanized metal over plywood. Simple, classic, reasonably cheap.
7. Thrift a pair of boots to work in. My last pair accidentally got left outside all winter (not by me!) in a sludge of water at the bottom of an upside-down dog kennel, and was discovered a few weeks ago wearing a heavy coat of hideous mold ... I've been doing everything so far in my old sandals, but I need something more sturdy to actually work in. Last time I did something like this in substandard footwear, all my toenails turned black from stress!
8. Buy lumber, hardware, etc. etc. Bring it home, cut it, label it, and stack it up in an orderly way so I can find the pieces I need when I need them. Possibly I may abandon this plan and end up just cutting each piece as I need it ... Probably not, though. I think this is getting complicated enough without going all random.
9. Take a few moments to freak out about how much money I've just spent.
10. Lay out cut pieces for each wall on the platform/floor, and nail together the frames. Need to figure out whether it's better to attach doors now & adjust them later, or just hang them in the doorframe after the walls are up. Fixed windows will be installed now; other windows will be removable (according to my own ingenious design).
11. Assemble walls.
12. Build the roof on top of the walls – framing and supports, and plywood, and roofing (whatever that ends up being – I'm not finished researching this part yet).
13. Attach trim around windows and doors.
14. Clean up.
15. Celebrate.
I'm excited and nervous to get started with this. A pricing trip to the lumber yard the other day was kind of a rude awakening ... enough to make me want to consider doing it in stages – the platform and a rudimentary shade structure kind of frame this year, filling in the frame and adding windows, doors and siding next year. But none of these materials will be getting any cheaper and if I'm really going to do it, there's really nothing to do but just DO IT. Right?
I may post some of my sketches, if I start feeling brave again. Writing it all down like that just now has made me a little queasy, however. It's been a long time since I took on a project this big. And it isn't even all that big!
Well, one step at a time. It isn't a race – the only reason I'm doing it at all is for my own pleasure. And I do know people I can call if I run into trouble.
All this is making me remember the summer of 1990, when I ripped out and refinished the entire interior of a house I was renting in Utah ... I was staying with my sister until I got it ready to move into, and I would wake up every morning with my back aching and my head pounding and my hands so sore they were paralyzed in this horrible claw-like posture from gripping hammers and pliers all day (I pulled about ten million rusted staples out of the floor by hand!), and I would lie there not even wanting to open my eyes, willing myself to go back to sleep, thinking, "I can't go back there today. I just can't." But then I would get up and go, and work all day, and eventually it was done and it turned out great.
After that experience I swore I would never put that much work into anything else ever again unless I owned it. And now here I am, ready to finally build my own house with my own hands ... It isn't anything like the houses my parents and brothers and sisters have built. But ... well, it's what I can do, right now. More than that, it's what I want. A 120-square-foot house is just right for who I am, where I live, what I want.
And really, it isn't officially a "house" anyway. It's supposed to be a studio. Or, to satisfy the county, a "detatched agricultural structure." And it does look kind of like a chicken coop.
Most of the afternoon I spent sitting on the patio in front of fan, sketching out pictures of this mythological building that is purported to be in the early stages of planning.... I got out the graph paper and the tape measure and now have it more or less figured out, except for the exact measurements of windows and doors, which will have to wait until after I actually buy them (see below). I also have some technical questions about what sizes and kinds of lumber to use, and where I should use framing connectors (those metal bracket things) and where nailing or toenailing will be okay. Actually, I think we're going to use mostly screws – not nails. And Mr. A likes to use those brackets on all major joints, which I don't necessarily mind, but then again – I'm trying to keep this as simple as possible. On the other hand, I also want it to be sturdy, safe and durable.
So, about the site: I had a flash of inspiration the other night and realized that if I just turn the whole thing about 80 degrees counterclockwise and move it back about five feet, I can nestle it into a sweet little niche between the apple, redwood and eucalyptus trees – a spot that feels much more private and protected and still has a pretty nice view of the east end of the yard. I want to get the tree guy back here to check out the trees before I start building, because I'm still a little nervous about putting anything so close to such large and brittle species of trees. The redwood has one nine-inch side trunk I want to have removed, and we already had the eucalyptus cut way back after a huge branch broke out of the top of it during the New Year's storm last winter.
In anticipation of the green light, though, I went ahead and got the spot cleared today. This involved moving a huge pile of branches Mr. A pruned from the apple trees this spring, which we have not got around to chipping yet, and raking up all the detritus and chopping down seedlings that have sprouted under the trees – six baby oak trees, a couple of different kinds of pine trees, three baby coyote bushes, and a madrone that's about six feet tall that I decided to just trim, since it's a slow-growing tree, and very pretty, and it's almost five feet from where the wall is going to be, so maybe I can enjoy it for some years before it gets so big it has to go.
Next steps – in way more detail than you ever wanted to know:
1. Build the platform. This will be a 10x12-foot platform built on a grid of 20 pier blocks sunk in holes about 6" and infilled with gravel or possibly cement, with 4x6's going lengthwise, and 2x6 joists on top of that, and a floor of either hand-dyed plywood or 2x4's. Before I start this I need to figure out the best way to secure the pier blocks in the ground (have decided against using sonotubes because it's just too hard to dig a decent hole in our super rocky soil – the property was a quarry for 50 years before Mr. A's uncle bought it; that's why he got such a great deal), and the best way to attach the 4x6's to the pier blocks, and whether I really need to use joist hangers, and if so, what kind. Keep in mind this entire house was built and has been standing firm for more than 30 years with no framing connectors at all, except the ones holding the trusses together. Also: are 4x6's overkill? Could I build the whole deck with 2x6's? It's only a 120-square-foot building!
2. Buy doors and windows. My current plan calls for one regular door, one set of French doors, and seven to ten windows of various sizes. And possibly one more door, if I decide to do a back door that would open out from the back wall into the shady cool space under the redwood tree. I know the basic sizes that can work for my plan and will just pick the best ones I can find from whatever's in stock at Urban Ore when we get there.
3. Finish my drawings for framing, based on the measurements of the doors and windows.
4. Figure out how many pieces of each size and kind of lumber I'm going to need, and how many cuts, and what angles, and put together a shopping list for the lumber store. Create a staging area where I can store, cut and label all the various pieces.
5. Add to the shopping list all boxes of nails and screws, hinges, doorknobs, window screening, tubes of caulk, saw blades, drill bits, and all other miscellaneous things you need when you're building something, that you always forget until you're right in the middle of the mess and can't stop to make a run to the store.
6. Also add: roofing. Probably this will be just that corrugated galvanized metal over plywood. Simple, classic, reasonably cheap.
7. Thrift a pair of boots to work in. My last pair accidentally got left outside all winter (not by me!) in a sludge of water at the bottom of an upside-down dog kennel, and was discovered a few weeks ago wearing a heavy coat of hideous mold ... I've been doing everything so far in my old sandals, but I need something more sturdy to actually work in. Last time I did something like this in substandard footwear, all my toenails turned black from stress!
8. Buy lumber, hardware, etc. etc. Bring it home, cut it, label it, and stack it up in an orderly way so I can find the pieces I need when I need them. Possibly I may abandon this plan and end up just cutting each piece as I need it ... Probably not, though. I think this is getting complicated enough without going all random.
9. Take a few moments to freak out about how much money I've just spent.
10. Lay out cut pieces for each wall on the platform/floor, and nail together the frames. Need to figure out whether it's better to attach doors now & adjust them later, or just hang them in the doorframe after the walls are up. Fixed windows will be installed now; other windows will be removable (according to my own ingenious design).
11. Assemble walls.
12. Build the roof on top of the walls – framing and supports, and plywood, and roofing (whatever that ends up being – I'm not finished researching this part yet).
13. Attach trim around windows and doors.
14. Clean up.
15. Celebrate.
I'm excited and nervous to get started with this. A pricing trip to the lumber yard the other day was kind of a rude awakening ... enough to make me want to consider doing it in stages – the platform and a rudimentary shade structure kind of frame this year, filling in the frame and adding windows, doors and siding next year. But none of these materials will be getting any cheaper and if I'm really going to do it, there's really nothing to do but just DO IT. Right?
I may post some of my sketches, if I start feeling brave again. Writing it all down like that just now has made me a little queasy, however. It's been a long time since I took on a project this big. And it isn't even all that big!
Well, one step at a time. It isn't a race – the only reason I'm doing it at all is for my own pleasure. And I do know people I can call if I run into trouble.
All this is making me remember the summer of 1990, when I ripped out and refinished the entire interior of a house I was renting in Utah ... I was staying with my sister until I got it ready to move into, and I would wake up every morning with my back aching and my head pounding and my hands so sore they were paralyzed in this horrible claw-like posture from gripping hammers and pliers all day (I pulled about ten million rusted staples out of the floor by hand!), and I would lie there not even wanting to open my eyes, willing myself to go back to sleep, thinking, "I can't go back there today. I just can't." But then I would get up and go, and work all day, and eventually it was done and it turned out great.
After that experience I swore I would never put that much work into anything else ever again unless I owned it. And now here I am, ready to finally build my own house with my own hands ... It isn't anything like the houses my parents and brothers and sisters have built. But ... well, it's what I can do, right now. More than that, it's what I want. A 120-square-foot house is just right for who I am, where I live, what I want.
And really, it isn't officially a "house" anyway. It's supposed to be a studio. Or, to satisfy the county, a "detatched agricultural structure." And it does look kind of like a chicken coop.
5 Comments:
hi tina! i ran in to stan b last night. how r u?
Will your project have its own site? Or will you keep us posted on the progress here? Does it (your studio) have a name? (Questions! Questions!) :)
Hey Tina, check out Reuse and Restore in Oakland. They are MUCH CHEAPER than Urban Ore. Kimm and I only go to Urban Ore as a last resort because they are obscenely expensive. Reuse and Restore are both on San leandro Blvd. (cross street is around Hegenburger or 90th) They are in warehouses that are right next to each other. Restore is owned by Habitat for Humanity and Restore is just salvage but you'll appreciate the cost difference.
Can't wait to hear more about your exciting building experience.
Oh yea, definately wear good boots AND Pants AND gloves (AND eyewear when you use a saw)---I have learned my lessons..
Sounds like a good plan Tina. I'm very curious to see your sketches...so post them please. You may want to give Dad a call to see if he has any advise - and I'm sure he will.
Keep us posted!
"Last time I did something like this in substandard footwear, all my toenails turned black from stress!"
I think this may explain why you now are suffering from onychomycosis. I know it is presumptious of me to posit this theory. But my toenail fungus issues started right after a black toenail incident. I'm just sayin'.
Anyway, I am mucho impressed with your carpentry knowledge and skills! I think your mythological building is going to be beautiful!
And I hope you never have to get rid of the madrone. I love madrones.
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