And so it begins.
This morning, after measuring for the 16th time, I got out my drill and drilled through my dining room ceiling at the spot I hoped marked the center of my future stovepipe. Then I took a trusty coat hanger (as a kid, I was always using coat hangers for the darnedest things), straightened it out and poked it up through the ceiling tile. It wouldn't stay put. A piece of tape changed its mind.
Then I lowered the folding ladder to the attic and crawled up there. I had to traverse about 18' of roof trusses to search for my hanger. How I moved thru the trusses will not be detailed, except to confess that my ample backside came into the equation. A ballet, it was not. However, I'm sure there is a fancy French phrase to describe it colorfully.
I have a handy dandy LED flashlight that straps onto my head. Boy, is that thing handy AND dandy. So, anyway, brushing away cobwebs and ignoring mouse poopie, I do my clever French maneuvers and there's my hanger, poking up thru the insulation, exactly in the middle of two trusses. Life is good.
Back to terra firma, and it's time for a trip back to Home Depot. I was there Thursday and had selected an earthy, greenish brownish tile. My project for today and next week is to cut out the carpet, install cement board, pretend that I know how to lay tile, ditto for grout, etc.
My hearth will be 5' deep by 6' wide, mostly because the cement board comes in 3' by 5' pieces and I don't feel like messing around cutting one down. My stove will sit on the left side, and the tile on the right will be just right for a firewood rack, hearth tools, etc.
The stovepipe and chimney should arrive around the time the hearth is ready for the stove. Serendipity.
Change of direction:
For this installation, I am enlisting the efforts of Norman, a dear friend, a contractor, a member of my Quaker Meeting. Norman and I once spent a memorable afternoon crawling around in the humongous roof trusses of our meeting house, inspecting the construction method that was used back in 1887. We were on a mission to determine whether it was safe to have 100 or so folks on our second floor during a large potluck.
Floor joists holding up the second floor are of one piece. Incredibly long. They're about 4 by 16s, and maybe 36 feet long (?). Heavy metal bars are suspended from the peak of the roof, also helping to hold up the second floor. The floor bounces as you walk across it. Norman and I pulled up some flooring and made some structural repairs to those 4 by 16s. Someone had cut rather large notches in the tops of the joists to run gas lines (gas lighting, I suppose). We put two wedges into each notch, tightened them up and screwed them in place. Good as new.
At one time, the second floor was used as a schoolroom. Lots of old desks are still up there. I don't know about the rest of you, but I find this kind of stuff just fascinating.
There might have been as many as four wood burning stoves in the meeting house at one time. The flues are still there, but the openings have been covered over.
The point of this is that Norman gets to go up into my roof trusses for the installation. All by himself. I've done MY part...
One more change of direction:
Some years back, not long after I became a Quaker, I was traveling to Cape Cod. I like to visit meeting houses when I travel. Some snooping on quakerfinder.org showed a meeting house in Sandwich, or East Sandwich, I forget the exact location. I stopped there on a Saturday and nobody was around. A notice listed times of meeting, so I planned on attending meeting the following Sunday. I arrived early and poked around the meeting house, which is, if I remember correctly, the oldest meeting house in continuous use in North America.
The building follows the old style with a moveable wall down the middle, separating men from women back in the oooooooooold days. Someone had arrived early to start a fire in an old pot belly smack in the middle of the main room. This was October; we needed the warmth. After silent worship, I introduced myself and was promptly invited to share in their potluck.
Enough. This isn't a book publishing outlet, after all...
And yes, there will be photos. Just gotta figure out why my camera didn't talk to my laptop the other day.
Nancy (aka Frenchie)
This morning, after measuring for the 16th time, I got out my drill and drilled through my dining room ceiling at the spot I hoped marked the center of my future stovepipe. Then I took a trusty coat hanger (as a kid, I was always using coat hangers for the darnedest things), straightened it out and poked it up through the ceiling tile. It wouldn't stay put. A piece of tape changed its mind.
Then I lowered the folding ladder to the attic and crawled up there. I had to traverse about 18' of roof trusses to search for my hanger. How I moved thru the trusses will not be detailed, except to confess that my ample backside came into the equation. A ballet, it was not. However, I'm sure there is a fancy French phrase to describe it colorfully.
I have a handy dandy LED flashlight that straps onto my head. Boy, is that thing handy AND dandy. So, anyway, brushing away cobwebs and ignoring mouse poopie, I do my clever French maneuvers and there's my hanger, poking up thru the insulation, exactly in the middle of two trusses. Life is good.
Back to terra firma, and it's time for a trip back to Home Depot. I was there Thursday and had selected an earthy, greenish brownish tile. My project for today and next week is to cut out the carpet, install cement board, pretend that I know how to lay tile, ditto for grout, etc.
My hearth will be 5' deep by 6' wide, mostly because the cement board comes in 3' by 5' pieces and I don't feel like messing around cutting one down. My stove will sit on the left side, and the tile on the right will be just right for a firewood rack, hearth tools, etc.
The stovepipe and chimney should arrive around the time the hearth is ready for the stove. Serendipity.
Change of direction:
For this installation, I am enlisting the efforts of Norman, a dear friend, a contractor, a member of my Quaker Meeting. Norman and I once spent a memorable afternoon crawling around in the humongous roof trusses of our meeting house, inspecting the construction method that was used back in 1887. We were on a mission to determine whether it was safe to have 100 or so folks on our second floor during a large potluck.
Floor joists holding up the second floor are of one piece. Incredibly long. They're about 4 by 16s, and maybe 36 feet long (?). Heavy metal bars are suspended from the peak of the roof, also helping to hold up the second floor. The floor bounces as you walk across it. Norman and I pulled up some flooring and made some structural repairs to those 4 by 16s. Someone had cut rather large notches in the tops of the joists to run gas lines (gas lighting, I suppose). We put two wedges into each notch, tightened them up and screwed them in place. Good as new.
At one time, the second floor was used as a schoolroom. Lots of old desks are still up there. I don't know about the rest of you, but I find this kind of stuff just fascinating.
There might have been as many as four wood burning stoves in the meeting house at one time. The flues are still there, but the openings have been covered over.
The point of this is that Norman gets to go up into my roof trusses for the installation. All by himself. I've done MY part...
One more change of direction:
Some years back, not long after I became a Quaker, I was traveling to Cape Cod. I like to visit meeting houses when I travel. Some snooping on quakerfinder.org showed a meeting house in Sandwich, or East Sandwich, I forget the exact location. I stopped there on a Saturday and nobody was around. A notice listed times of meeting, so I planned on attending meeting the following Sunday. I arrived early and poked around the meeting house, which is, if I remember correctly, the oldest meeting house in continuous use in North America.
The building follows the old style with a moveable wall down the middle, separating men from women back in the oooooooooold days. Someone had arrived early to start a fire in an old pot belly smack in the middle of the main room. This was October; we needed the warmth. After silent worship, I introduced myself and was promptly invited to share in their potluck.
Enough. This isn't a book publishing outlet, after all...
And yes, there will be photos. Just gotta figure out why my camera didn't talk to my laptop the other day.
Nancy (aka Frenchie)
I have one and never thought to use it
