hot water, cold climate

I want to use this water heater in the house that I saw down in Atlanta. This is a tankless water heater. It sits on the wall and uses this internal combustion apparatus to instantly heat water and deliver it where it's needed. So there is no excessive energy wasting when you are not using hot water. It lasts twice as long as a typical tank and uses half the energy.... BUT it costs 2.5 times the price!! From a strict cost/benefit analysis over the probable timeline that I will be in this house... its better to go with a tank.

I am, however, trying to get in the mindset of including ALL COSTS in my new Return On Investment models.

I want to get away from... The laziness of self-reliance.(a phrase I recently coined) What I mean is that I need hotwater to be ready and waiting when I want it. I need to be able to get back the extra $400 I will spend on the tankless heater ASAP. I need to choose a system that most plumbers are comfortable with, so I can get it repaired when I need to.

I am trying to think more about what my neighbors need as well.

My neighbors need to have available energy.

Instead of holding 50+ gallons of water in a typical tank that uses energy to keep the water inside warm 24hrs a day, it only operates when needed.

This results in up to a 50% energy savings, plus a potentially endless supply of hot water

My neighbors need to have safe, nontoxic environment to live in.

The tankless heater is roughly 1/6 the size of the typical tank. A typical tank will have to be replaced at least once during the lifespan of the tankless heater. So... in 20+ years when the tankless heater is replaced, we will be sending 92% less materials to the closest landfill.

But back to cost...

If I can't afford to pay the extra cash up front, then I can't look out for my neighbor?

NO I can't... at least not in this way.

I'm seeing that the "right" choice is very infrequently the "affordable" choice.

I think of it the same way I think about soy milk. I can afford to the pay the extra $0.40 at Starbucks to get soy milk. Drinking soy milk instead of cow milk is relatively unnoticeable in coffee. It has the added value of being a protein rich substitute. More protein from soy milk means that I need to eat less meat to get my needed protein. Less meat consumption, means less over-grazing cows, less cruel stockpiled steroid juicin chickens, and all the environmental nightmares that accompany them... erosion... green house gasses... mad cow... bird flu, etc...

But it all comes back to the fact that my grande soy caramel machaitto meant that my local starbucks had to order their next shipment of soy 12 ounces sooner.

And so I guess I am doing my part to support the growth of an industry I believe in.

on moving forward

As I download my digital photos and unpack a travel bag filled with receipts and brochures recalling eco-friendly promises from unnamed product reps, I am reminded of days past in which my soul moved ever so closer to understanding my continued response to a lifelong choice...

...what to do with the time we are given.

Last Thursday night, I found myself at a conference social. I had arrived late do to my conscious, yet regrettable, decision to relax in my hotel room earlier in the evening whilst watching Catwoman. Nevertheless, the social was housed in an old theatre in downtown Atlanta known as The Tabernacle. After an hour or so of people-watching from various vantage points, I concluded that it was time to depart. Upon moving toward the entrance, I happened upon a young black woman behind a table signing and selling cd's for $20. Intrigued, first because I was no longer the primary source of diversity in the room, and second, because I realized that she must have been the headliner at the function.

Her name was Leela James and she was a small, pleasant, smiling young woman with a blow-out afro. I told her that I had not seen her perform, but that I was interested in her cd.

She turned to her assistant and said, "He didn't even get a chance to hear me sing and he wants to buy the album. Give it to him for $10. "

An unprompted, simple, and kind gesture.

I gave her assistant $20 anyway. She signed the CD and handed it to me. In that brief moment, I started to get it.

What was the true lesson of this green building conference? What is this true meaning of this buzz term "biophillia?"(loosely defined as a passion for all living things) Why did I stumble unto this encounter with Leela?

I leaned close to her and said: "You have very kind eyes... and I am sure your voice is equally as kind. I wish you well in everything you do." And then I turned and walked out of the building.

You don't get it yet, do you?

We are all in this boat together. Our fate, sink or swim, is a collective fate.

I go to GREENBUILD because I get a chance to connect with likeminded folks that... get it. I sit through mind blowing lectures about the impact of the built environment on the real environment because I understand its importance and I need to connect with people that can energize me to choose wisely when I ask myself what to do with the time I am given.

I leaned in to speak thoughtfully to Leela, because...

We cannot be ashamed to be profound.

Galvanizing people to move towards being more comfortable with each other, with the need to think collectively, and with the challenge to be stewards of the environment in which we all exist will happen one kind conversation at a time... one unprompted kind gesture at a time...one blog entry at a time... one blog entry comment at a time.

get it?

interior beginnings

We started framing out the first floor interior wall this weekend and today. I ate lunch over at the house. The downstairs is the only place where there are real partitions in the space, so it was good to be able to walk down the soon-to-be hallway and get a feel for the first floor... right turn, bathroom on the right, bedroom/office on the left.

cooling man in the hot seat

So I got a phone call from the site this morning and the potential Heating/Cooling guy was there sizing up his gameplan to get started. Mind you, this is the first time I'm hearing about this guy and he's ready to start. So I was a little defensive because I felt like he felt he was in the door without my go ahead. Nevertheless, powertrip not withstanding, I started to talk to him over the phone about some of the issues I was concerned about regarding the indoor climate of the house. For example, my thoughts about possible using radiant heat on the first floor. I instantly realized that I needed to look this guy in the eye and see if he was going to be able to do the same. Not that he came off as being shady, it's just that as the project manager, you want to feel comfortable with people. So I drove over there (in record time 6 minutes, No, Dad, I wasn't speeding........ much) and met the HVAC Man. He had a honest shake and a knowledgable tongue. I like that. For a second he might have thought that he could have tossed out a bunch of industry terms like return air, BTU's, and CFM's... he kept referencing the guy that did the drawings and the layout design for the mechanical systems, not knowing that that guy was me. It was a subtle, almost undetectable, but nevertheless existent change in his tone that followed his recognition that I designed all my mechanical and plumbing work as well. He knew that his talk of Brittish Thermal Units was not falling on deaf ears. Not unlike the guys putting on the roof, once you hear me repeat a question I asked in english, in spanish...all of a sudden we all back into this place I like to call: The Respect Room

And honestly, I don't mind.

I'll earn your respect... and you repay the gesture by doing great work for a fair price,?Verdad?

an open conversation

I was able to have a lengthy conversation with my neighbor across the street this morning. Nice guy. As usual, when I have conversations with my neighbors, I am exposed to the unedited reality of my block... a more and more frequent occurence that I am growing quite fond of. I often wonder who the person is that I project to people. I have found my neighbors to be, on average, very open and engaging. Is that a result of them, or me? Do I project an honest non-threatening persona? Or have I just stumbled into an honest and non-threatening community? What about the demographics of this possible pleasantville? For the most part, my neighbors are older and elderly black folks, many having southern roots. What does that say about the neighborhood's lifespan? Is it approaching a crescendo? Mr. Johnson, the man that sowed the structural seeds for this site, was elderly and relatively sickly when he passed. Was he a reflection of his environment? If so, what does it say about the new blood that the growahouse site could pump into this microcosim? I'm not sure. Apparently, when most of these neighbors moved into the area twenty or thirty years ago, it was largely comprised of white residents. Not so much anymore. But what role will history play in the near future?

My studies have helped me to appreciate the nature of how most communities develop as they react to the pressures of time, diversity, amenities, economics, and politics. Often the demographics of an area shift in cycles. Washington, DC, however has a slightly unique and somewhat civic workforce, which skews the easy reading of a pattern. On the Federal side, the population changes with administrations and this transient, but wealthy, group brings continual capital into the city's infrastructure. On the DC Government side... its mostly black folks... mostly middle to lower economic brackets...mostly life long DC residents.

This is an interesting mix in the current light of an unprecedented building boom. A mix that leads to two things, respectively:

Gentrification

Migration

But what if you're older?

What if you live in one of the few remaining enclaves characterized as a stable black neighborhood with good stable people, like yourselves? How do you ensure that the neighborhood will live on?

Or should you?

Should you take advantage of the real estate market, sell, and move out to PG County? Do you contribute to your community by having a well earned equity payout that you can pass on to your family... you know ... build some generational wealth? I'm not sure.

many questions remain...

How do you pump blood into the tangible fabric of a community that is fading without replacing it? How do you say that the buildings are important, as well as, the bodies that inhabit them?

like a glove

So the roof is closing up quite nicely. The inspector came to inspect the ground floor column footing. Shingles came in yesterday and they are everything I hoped they would be. These bad boys have a minimum 50-year warranty. AND they look like slate. AND they are made from recycled rubber... basically car tires. Thats how real we keep things over at growahouse. Everything is fitting where its supposed to... well most things.

But nothing that a little elbow grease can't fix.

la puerta grande

So I adressed the issue with my gigantic front doors. I went over the Brass Knob and they painstakenly pulled out all the huge wood and steel doors from my high school (Thanks guys!!). We found the right one in the yard out back. So we will make the swap sometime this week. I want for the doors to be my first "official" project.

I'm going to scrape and sand them down a bit and then...

COLOR

I want to paint them a very bold, vibrant, and engaging color. Keep in mind, you can't just go willy nilly painting for the sake of painting. The doors will need to complement the stucco coloring around the rest of the house, as well as, the interior design of the courtyard area. I have appointed a one woman design team to help with the courtyard aethestic. She's visualizing water, earth, fire, and stone. Its going to be hot.

I have all kinds of help with the nuts and bolts of this project.

For example, I have my NY Storage Maximization team flying in over the weekend. These pros can fit a fit a full linen set in a shoebox... with pillows!!!

all in good time, my friends... all in good time.

fingernail dirt, splinters, etc...

Its all about SWEAT EQUITY!!! Today was long, but rewarding. I decided that it was time to start getting more involved in the building of this house. Coordination, design, and construction administration are heavy tasks, but you gotta haul a stack of 2X6's off a truck and bust out your tape measure to get some street credit.

Thats what I'm talking about.

No longer just this mysterious guy lurking around the site from 7am to 10pm... no longer just this guy with sketch pad, a set of drawings, and an unusual knack for on-the-spot translations. (FYI, madera = wood). Now... I'm just that guy in the blue coveralls and the high-tec dust mask, cutting wood like everybody else, right?

NO

Not at all, dummy! I'm the homeowner and designer. That means that I'm up late freeking out about how I'm going to add a new window or how I'm going to haul back one of my gi-mungous front doors to the shop because they gave me a door with the hinges on the wrong side. You think the rest of the guys from the site are worried about the hinges? You think it's keeping them up? Construction is not a take your work home kind of industry. Architecture, on the other hand, is very much a take your work home and make your home your work kinda deal. So here I am... tired and hungry... some might even say irritable. Gues what?

Doesn't Matter.

I still need to deal with the hinges. No cuddle time watching Extreme Home Makeover (Still waiting for that response to my letter, Ty). No waiting in line around the Capital Rotunda to see Sister Rosa Parks laying in State. Did I mention I'm hungry? Anyway... it could be worse

It could be worse. You could be a cartoon. You'd meet a pretty girl, get to know her... fall in love, and then kaboom!! She turned out to be a bomb.

"Its all happening"

Friday evening, I re-watched a not so old favorite movie... Almost Famous. While there are an overabundance of coming-of-age trials to speak of when referencing this particular film, there was one overriding theme that I found to be engaging as I breathed in the film once again.

The death of a musical genre, and the subsequent birth of "an industry of cool."

Although I may have some rock star aspirations (learning the play the guitar for example), I find that is more engaging a theme if I relate it to design.

There are so many things that I want to do with this house. Yesterday, I stretched myself out across the newly laid joists for the third floor. I looked towards downtown and found myself staring at the Washington Monument. I recalled that one of the incredible things I rememebered about being on the roof of the original house was being able to see downtown, focusing particular attention on the Washington Monument and the Capital Building. My current design doesn't capitalize on the view as much as I had originally wanted to. Because the site is on a hill, I knew that looking downtown would be pretty cool. How cool would it be to be able to show folks my view? How cool would it be to look at the city from across the river and then walk, ride or drive into it?

A few weeks back, I told the seventy-year old black man that poured my concrete that it was going to be cool cus I could see the city from the top of the house.

He said, "What do you want to see the city for? It's not for us."

His view, however dismal, speaks to a larger truth. Being excited about this house cannot and must not destroy the original agenda. The truth in his statement comes from feeling like a forgotten people. The truth in his words comes from the downside of gentrification, which originates from the latin gentrificus, which loosely translates into: Making poor or underrepresented people someone else's concern.

The city, not unlike an eight minute guitar solo of the mid 70's, is dying and giving birth to an "environment of cool."

This new environment is paved with camera phones in place of conversation, designer dogs in place of watching your neighbor's children until their parents get home, overpriced natural grocery foods in place of window sill herb gardens, ipod nanos in place of street performers, and ultimately... placing more value on your view of the city, than on the people in those buildings... or better still... the people that used to live in those buildings.

dos cafes? y leche?... bueno

Time seemed to stand still this morning as I waited for my turn to order at the Subway sandwich place near the site. It wasn't simply the amazing one man bangaladeshi operation simoltaneously mastering various pre-packaged meat patties, vegetables, and a new-age hi-fi toasting machine that somehow embodies the ability to cohesively toast sandwiches in seconds ... undoubtedly to the envy of NASA. Nor was it the internal pride I felt having moments earlier eloquently conversed in spanish with two of the workers at my house. That eloquent conversation being the genesis of my sojourn to the Subway establishment. (Todos los personas necesitan desayunar, verdad?) Nevertheless, it was neither of those things. It was , instead, this man.

There are few things in this life that put the world in perspective in as unique and profound a way as a grey haired middle aged man rocking a chocolate brown polyester leisure suit in a Subway sandwich restaurant at 9:00AM.

shingle shingle

Got out to the site this morning feeling much better than last night. I'm sorry that you guys had to witnes that display of weakness in the face of exhaustion. Nevertheless, we're all back on track and I'm back to solving problems that I create!! I changed my mind about going with Bob's (Structural guy) reccommendation on how to fix the doorway I placed in front of a column. I decided to move the door. It was the right decision and if we can use scrap brick to patch the hole, I think we will all be better for it.

But on to other concerns. We have to get the shingles for the roof. Mr. Walker estimates that we will be placing those roof trusses by the weekend.

In the spirit of being a Steward of the Environment, growahouse is advocating the use of Recycled Rubber Shingles instead of your typical asphalt shingles.

So I located a place in the metropolitan area called roof center and they carry the rubber shingles (Color: Slate Midnight Gray) in stock.

Note: Roofs are measured in squares, which is a 10' x 10' area.

So don't go up in a roof store talking about your house dimensions or building square footage... they don't want to hear that.

They are roofers... they talk in squares. If you don't know the lingo, you will literally pay for your ignorance. Everyone in this building industry can smell the weekend warrior stink on you if you don't bone up on the appropriate colloquialisms ahead of time.

bearing the weight

Lets start this sequence of information dispersal by stating the fact that I have been operating in sleep defeciency for the past few days. The occupational requirements that led up to that are inconsequential. Just know that I'm beat. I dropped the ball.

I added a door to the house during demolition. The noble intent was to create a more secure entry into the house, but I have, in turn, created another headache for myself. The door is in direct conflict with a structural column. So I had to call my structural engineer, Bob, and have him make a quick stop by the site to help me solve the problem. I should have seen that problem coming. Now I have to find a piece of steel to beef up the lintel of the door.

Whatever.

So that bring me to the point that I am currently existing in. I'm tired, folks. I think that my marathon at my work desk on Monday has dramatically increased my carpul-tunnel-itis? I had to buy socks midday, cus all I could find this morning were ankle socks and jack frost was bitchin all morning... thus my feet were freezing.

I want to be asleep

BUT... I can't. I have to work on this webpage, cus there are people who support me and want to watch the progress... so I too must find new ways to bear the structural loads of my wednesday.

Oh yes... I almost forgot...NO MORE FREEKIN RAIN!!! Finally, we were able to get a solid day of work in at the house. The second floor deck is almost entirely framed and three of the four stud walls are up. Next stop is the third floor and roof. I might have mentioned that the roof trusses arrived Monday morning. The ground floor is shaping up. It was definitely the right decision to add the two courses of concrete block on the existing walls and raise the ceiling height... it makes a tremendous difference to have such a large volume of space despite its small square footage. Note to self: The Toilet people are coming Thursday to empty the Jiffy John.

blame it on the rain...

Yesterday and today were both moist melodramas wrapped in misty confusion. Lets see... Galiher & Hugley delivered my LVL beams to the site today. By the way, if your thinking about using them for your lumber, DON'T. These guys have failed to meet the litmus test for good salesmanship and punctuality. These dingbats misdelivered my wood to my neighbor five houses down and then came back to pick it up and took it back to the lumber yard. Take a look down the block, Einstien. Does the half-built house with the port-o-potty out front make just a little more sense then this poor woman's driveway? I don't know... maybe I expect too much?

Accoplishment: I hauled the Pepco sample window over to the site. Setback: I had to acknowledge to myself that it weighs a ton and I have no idea how the guys are going to hoist it up above the entry doors.

What is it with me and heavy things?

I bought my front doors from a place called The Brass Knob. It's an architectural salvage place that re-sells pieces of buildings (with varied usage) at a marginal price. So... my front doors are actually from my high school. In addition to engendering a comforting bit of nostalgia, the doors are the embodiment of the what the modern urban philosopher refers to as "hardcore." I'm talking 8 feet tall...3 inch thick wood and steel. There like 300lbs.

I mean seriously folks... 300 lb steel doors. I'm out of control.

simmering down...

I just got a call. My wood beams are coming in the morning and we might get started framing despite the looming threat of rain. Thats what I'm talking about. Be on top of your game. Thats the kind of phone call I want to get. So I'm simmering down now. I'm thinking that the day needs a soundtrack. There has been too much texture, emotion, and inclimate weather for it to also be devoid of melody.

And I heard 'em say, nothin ever promised tomorrow today. Nothing's ever promised tomorrow today. But we'll find a way. And nothing lasts forever but be honest babe, it hurts but it may be the only way.

david banner in the mirror

I am not a violent man. Furthermore, I have not reached my boiling point. I do, however,offer this warning: If you make me angry, I will make an example out of you.

Why... at 9 in the morning on a rainy Friday in the brisk autumn of 2005, do I have to elevate my heart rate and, dare I say, my temper? I understand weather. I understand buildings. I understand setbacks. I understand the rules of project management. What I don't understand, is why in the H, E, Double Hockey Sticks, do I have to hold your hand and coax you into making me feel comfortable with your ability to get my freekin' wood beams to the house on time??? come on, black people. We have got to do better than that. Exceed my expectations. Show up early. Call me before i call you and tell me that the supplier is acting up, but these are the things that you are doing to keep the project going. Make me say... Damn!!, You're great at what you do!!! I was fool to ever consider someone else for this project. But instead... I got wet in the rain helping some guy drop off the joists in front of the house, cus you weren't there to meet your delivery man. Luckily I stopped at Home Depot at 7am this morning and bought that extra tarp, cus if it were up to you... My wet TJI joists would be sitting in a puddle, moist and forsaken... awaiting their untimely removal by the same neighbors that broke into my car.

palm greasing

I slipped a crisp five-er to my garbage man yesterday. I felt good about it.

I got to the house late and the truck was already down the street. A novice would have shrugged his shoulders and opted to endure the lawn bags sitting against the side of the house for another calendar week... but I'm no novice. I flagged them down and made a series of gestures as they cruised passed the house. Easily dismissed as idle gibberish hand waving by most passerbys; this was a complex interwoven cultural textile of hand signals passed down through generations of smooth cats that share my bloodline.

no words. just a head nod.

Five minutes later the truck eased gingerly down my street halting to a stop alongside a makeshift mailbox (a mailbox that sadly lacks a flag). In an instant, the remnants of a Saturday afternoon spent clipping a massive shrub back to its infancy were thrown into this hulking truck and... then it happened. ...yet another simoltaneous head-nod-hand-gesture. This time from the garbage man back to me. Its was subtle, silent even. Again, undetectable to most... but to the trained eye...ahhh... yes... to me... it whispered can you help a brotha out?

As they drove on, passing countless empty refuse containers,perhaps empty lives,or empty dreams; I stood proud... pointing to my silent comrade. Shouting without words... merely an outstretched index finger that said clearly and honestly...I got you covered.

of mortar and men

Day Fifteen I stopped by the house to see the progress and much to my delight, the masons had shown up and were breezing through the laying of the concrete block. In a less than a day, they had added two courses of block to the existing building and cut in the new doorway off of the driveway. (Safety addition to enable entry to the house that was not through the courtyard)

The site was teaming with excitement and energy.

I felt like I needed to be there all day ... you know, be one of the guys... eating food off the hood of a truck.... drinking gaterade and... oh... that reminds me... I need to order a Sani-John first thing in the morning.

That is an important lesson.

The guys that are doing work for me have to go to the bathroom behind the house... like passerby vagrants... that's not cool. That is not the type of show that growahouse is all about. Sorry I let you guys down today. I will do better tomorrow.

Lesson learned.

When you're a cheetah out on the serengeti, you can't let the excitement of the kill distract you from eating your wildebeast.

In other words... protect your investment.

Day Eleven

I learned how to pour concrete yesterday. Interestingly enough... that was the least impressive of the lessons learned out on the site. I sat with a 70-year-old man named Eugene and listened as he blended stories of men falling off of construction sites from the mid 1950's to the the late 1990's with respectfully raunchy tales of women of days past. I translated English to Spanish and back to English and everywhere inbetween. I walked the site with purpose, yet found it difficult to mask my excitement. It was a day of missed conduit opportunities, friendly neighbors, sunshine, mosquitos, and eager antiocipation of a dreaded concrete truck driver from St. Thomas named Gus.

We build foundations and reinforce our lives with every choice we make. It is the resolve of person setting the formwork for the theoretical liquid rock that creeps into crevices and spills into unsuspected casms that will determine the possibilities.

Pouring Concrete. check.