Charlie & I have always been fascinated  by doors. There is a  certain mystic to them … just what is behind them? Where do they lead? They appear as a statement to the building and a insight at times to the owner!

#57

Green moss on steps

An Entrance should be warm rather than worn.

An ordinary entry door rendered extraordinary.

We tend to see a lot of colonial homes in northern New Jersey and southern New York surrounding our nine Kuiken Brothers locations. The Colonial Architecture style is very common throughout the region. To help maintain the look through the interior of the home, we offer a number of different colonial style crown, casing and base mouldings.  The attached photo shows a colonial inspired design, and in addition to the crown, casing and base mouldings, incorporates a chair rail to round off the design.To see this Colonial Style Moulding Design, and to see how to replicate this look using KB Mouldings, visit the Kuiken Brothers website

Colonial Revival houses have many of these features:*

Symmetrical façade Rectangular

2 to 3 storie

Brick or wood siding

Simple, classical detailing

Gable roof

Pillars and columns

Multi-pane, double-hung windows with shutters

Dormers

Temple-like entrance: portico topped by pediment

Paneled doors with sidelights and topped with rectangular transoms or fanlights

Center entry-hall floor plan

Living areas on the first floor and bedrooms on the upper floors

Fireplaces

About the Colonial Revival Style

Colonial Revival became a popular American house style after it appeared at the 1876 the US Centennial Exposition. Reflecting American patriotism and a desire for simplicity, the Colonial Revival house style remained popular until the mid-1950’s. Between World War I and II, Colonial Revival was the most popular historic revival house style in the United States.

Some architectural historians say that Colonial Revival is a Victorian style; others believe that the Colonial Revival style marked the end of the Victorian period in architecture. The Colonial Revival style is based loosely on Federal and Georgian house styles, and a clear reaction against excessively elaborate Victorian Queen Anne architecture. Eventually, the simple, symmetrical Colonial Revival style became incorporated into the Foursquare and Bungalow house styles of the early 20th century.

* Source: Jackie Craven, About.com

1876 – 1955: Colonial Revival Picture Dictionary of American Colonial House Styles

http://architecture.about.com/od/housestyles/ig/Colonial-and-Federal/Colonial-Revival-Style.htm

Poblado de poesias cripticas, verbos que se articulan atractivamente entre si y se fusionan con melodias seductoras, cuasi-cabareteras. “Pequeños Rostros” es un album que maneja diferentes climas de Hard Rock, Canciones Rockeras con Estribillos, y pretenden hablar de oscuros trances misticos y romanticismos, quizas tambien sobre tragedias, con muchas imagenes poeticas que nos trasladan a una atmosfera particular y ambigua, que en lo personal, ambientan viajes y escapadas nocturnas de una manera perfecta.
Otra apreciacion de esta banda es la calidad y la fuerza que tienen en vivo.

Temas recomendables:
- “Pequeños rostros en piezas”
- “Rock 50 Miligramos”
- “Volvio el Maldito”

Discos para escuchar junto a este:
- “Strange Days” de The Doors
- “Flamingos” de Enrique Bunbury
- “Oktubre” de Redonditos de Ricota

Tapas:

Descarga:
Link

Contacto:
www.myspace.com/atolondefunafuti
www.fotolog.com/elatolon
www.facebook.com/elatolon

Part of the charm of an old house is, well… just that, it’s old. We really liked the character of the old doors and woodwork, so we put it in a safe place during the renovation and now David is re-hanging the 1880’s doors and window trim. How cool!

As you can see, the old doors and trim have seen many layers of paint over the years. We thought about attempting to strip the paint to restore the original woodwork, but decided that we didn’t want to deal with the lead paint hazard and wanted a crisp white aesthetic in the house.

Some boards were in better shape than others. David did have to buy a small plainer to work with the old doors and trim, but he was excited about adding to his tool collection.

The french doors had cracked paint. We aren’t sure if the previous owners used crackle paint or how that happened. David has already sanded and filled the cracks. Repainting the old frenchies is still on the to-do list, but I’m sure that with one primer coat and two coats of paint no one will be the wiser of it’s previous state.

If you look closely, you can see that the marble window cills are back in place and you would never guess that the window trim was 100% recycled! Look’s pretty good!

The doors in the downstairs bedroom/office look like new. The old fashioned hinges and handles add charm that is irreplaceable.

It’s starting to really feel like home.

Yet another reason why collecting MP3s just isn’t as much fun, by Christian Marclay.

Sometimes I don’t really know what to write about my photos. Half the time when I post photos and write a story I feel like a babbling 3rd grader. Usually I’m feel like I’m just writing, “And then we went here” … “and the we went there”… “and then we lived happily ever after”. I find this boring. I totally admit that my writing skills totally suck. They always have.

When I started this blog late September, I had no intention of writing a blog or blurb about my daily post. My intention for starting this blog was/is to post a daily photo as well as pushing myself to shoot tons of photos on a daily basis in order to practice, practice, practice. Others might call it “finding my edge”. In the early weeks of October, I began to feel this overwhelming feeling of having to tell a story about my photo or why I took the photo(s). I also began to become more self-conscious about my writing skills at this point. So now, I’m at this point of questioning what to do next  with my blog. I can clearly see that it’s evolving, but maybe I can continue to control its evolution? I’m beginning to ask myself questions like, “How do I expand this blog or rather how do I make it more interesting? How do I attract more visitors to my daily posts? I know I’m totally obsessed with daily blog posts and what would happen if I actually made my blog into a weekly blog? What if I posted that best photo in one week instead of the best photo of the day? How do I engage the viewers of my blog in a way that will make them want to Leave a Comment? Why do I want the visitors to Leave A Comment?”

I’ve been thinking that I need to add a weekly post theme like ”My favorite photos on Tuesday” or “Things I most like to shoot – Thursday” or “New blogs that I’ve found and Tri likes this – Friday”. If you’re reading this right now, what theme do you think would be interesting for you to see on my blog?

 I’ve also been thinking that instead of telling a story or writing a blurb about my daily happenings, that rather I’ll describe the reasoning behind my photo. Maybe I’ll describe why I took the photo or what I like in the scene of the photo or just something that I’ve been trying to capture through this lens and I think that maybe I’ve got one photo that will illustrate this idea.

Oh the complexities and dilemnas in life. I think I’ll pour myself another glass of wine.

The say, “write what you know”. While I’m sure I’m not the first, I tend to agree. On the surface – of course – this seems quite obvious as writing about something you know nothing about would be a tremendously difficult task. But as with any great pearl of wisdom, the true meaning is tucked away.

For me, “what you know” is not necessarily what you know, but rather what you feel and who you are. To me, if you’re not writing – or less specifically, creating – “what you know”, then you don’t stand a chance of creating anything of great meaning. It is from this “what you know” that great art is spawned and that unique voices are born.

And it doesn’t matter what you’re creating: music, sculpture, dance, math and advertising all require that unique voice to be heard. What sets the masters apart in any of these fields is that at one point it was like they were speaking their own language.

Sometime in the ’60s, (I say sometimes because it’s nearly impossible to get exact times with this guy, but I digress) Jim Morrison wrote:

I wanna tell you about Texas Radio and the Big Beat
Soft-driven, slow and mad, like some new language

These words have stuck with me since I first heard the songs, but it wasn’t until I read Ignore Everybody, by Hugh MacLeod, that I really found the right context for them. One of the many topics that MacLeod explores in this brilliant book is the idea of a new a language from the point of view of the young artist, creating, without pressure or expectation, and establishing “a new language that other people could also speak to the world with”.

What Morrison is describing is a feeling that I’m sure most of us have experienced. That feeling when you hear a song for the first time and something about it stops you in your tracks. It’s happened to me countless times, but one of the most vivid was hearing Kurt Cobain perform “Where Did You Sleep Last Night?” on Nirvana’s Unplugged record (see below for the clip). It was a tape at the time, so I had to stop and rewind again and again because I couldn’t get enough. There was intensity and pain in his voice that I’d never before encountered. His somewhat-flawed vocals spoke to me and yet I couldn’t really understand them. It was truly like as if he was speaking a different language.

And in a sense, he was. Like him or not, Cobain changed the way the language of music is spoken. Just like Lennon & McCartney and many others did before him. And the way the Simpsons writers changed comedy, the Google guys chaged search algortihms and Lee Clow changed advertising.

They didn’t, necessarily, do it by being better than their competition. They did it by writing what they knew in a language that was all their own, but would soon become the language that the audience – and the world – spoke with them.

Please, take the time to check out this clip of Nirvana’s performance, as you can watch the transformation occur in Cobain. Pay close attention at around 4:46. It’s as if he slips out of the trance for a second. When he opens his eyes, either he’s looking at your soul or you’re seeing his. Either way it’s a very intense moment.

Click Away

I just love the doors of Old Delhi – unfortunately, I do not know their histories – so I will leave it to you to imagine their stories……

What? Could it be? An update? You bet your turkey it is. Instead of my usual keyboard runoff, this time around everyone gets treated to a video and a few photos. More updates soon, we promise.

The Bowman Manse Update from Zach Bowman on Vimeo

~Z

We had the crown and windows done before the weekend started, but not much else.

When it comes to plumbing access panels, Pappaw was a function over form kinda guy.

Every time I see those hardwood floors, I can’t help but remember just how fortunate we are. “Amen,” Her Sweetness says.

Let there be closet doors…

And bedroom doors, too…

Her Sweetness sanding away.

The new and improved plumbing access panel.

Finished product. Her Sweetness and kitty.

Night time is a nice time to say I love you.

Quiet morning…up way too early waiting for the next snow report in the morning to confirm there’s another foot or two of fresh snow.  I am losing count but the opening week has gone something like this: Saturday 70cm, Sunday 70cm, Monday 30cm, Tuesday 40cm, Wednesday 56cm and now Thursday another 53cm, Friday don’t remember…you do the math…it’s deep!  Can’t sleep…

Heard a gentle ‘hwump’ the other morning and thought for a moment it was an avi bomb echoing down the valley but looked out to see a small dark bird twitching on its side in my son’s sled beneath the window, wings folded tight to her chest, struggling to catch her breath and then still.  My wife and I watched silent, I turned to her and shook my head with my eyes and we finished getting our little boy ready for school.  Later that morning I returned, picked up the motionless little body and took her to a hollow in the rocky bank next to our home after holding her long enough to be certain she was not coming back.

I am reverent in these early days in the snow and of our friends who are not here to laugh and smile and tell us tales of just how deep it was or about the stupid trick they pulled or line they skied.  Only a week after Remembrance day and here we are heading up the mountains with that same anticipation we had when we were kids and this year (once again) there are fewer returning after their lives were cut short so suddenly…but if we listen closely between the turns and windswept lines we will hear their voices beneath the snow.

The first 70cm day was epic (what else do you call those days?)…dropping into the same lines I had just skied the last two days that had vanished.  The next 70cm day was beyond…literally too deep to turn on any of the terrain that was open and the usual trees and rocks my size were gone beneath the surface, the cliffs on top of Rat Fink, gone in two days…enough, stop thinking…sleep.

In the dream this opening week in Whistler has become, each day repeats like it did for Bill Murray in, ‘Ground Hog Day’…I get off the gondi goggles, gloves and zips all set, click the buckles on my boots and slide unnoticed past the crowds with that silent nod that says ‘Here we go…’ (aka ‘I’m local, trust me, you don’t want to follow me’)…but more than that it says, ‘I’m home’.  I slide past Green, right, a little left of right, nearly out of sight and slip between the markers without a second thought…like slipping into my favorite pair of jeans ‘that fit like  an old lover come back for more’ (Max Blagg).  A short hike over the roll, west wind at my back pushing, driving me to that bottomless familiar escape into the white…and beneath the snow echo the ageless muses of younger days like the soundtrack of my life.

The low base of “Love me two times…” sinks in and the voice of Jim Morrison reciting the Graveyard Poems of a forgotten era before my time…and, “the voices of singing women are calling from the far shore and they are saying, forget the night and live with us in forests of azure.  Meagre food or souls forgot.”  The constant sting of the wind numbs and the blur of white that suddenly surrounds is calling me home. ‘A little more right son, you know the way.’  Alone, together, like an old friend pouring one more drink for the drive home.  Punch drunk love-sick ramblings…like it’s the first time all over again. 

Higher right, roll, straight line, wind lip…pass a huge bomb hole the size of my body with a moments glance that snaps me back, awake.  No results from the blast, just a perfect round hole like a meteor evaporated on impact and left nothing to show but the crater…safe for now, game on, here we go.  There’s a small group of struggling searchers to my right too close to the tree line, too flat over there for today, and I instinctively cut left, air between the trees, drop weightless, land, and drop again when the ghostly cushion beneath the K2 Kahuna’s says, “yes, now”.  I run straight exhaling through the chest deep compression while the group stands still in time watching as the flash of red disappears into the glade at the bottom of the second pitch. Pine branches loaded with snow brush by and windows between the heavy trunks appear from my dreams and open one after another and I’m certain they close behind me as I pass…but I can’t look back.  I am ‘one’ with the forest, nearing unconsciousness, like Bruce Lee and, “the art of fighting without fighting…it is like a finger pointing to the moon.  Do not focus on the finger or you will miss all the heavenly brilliance.”  I let go, I release the inner turmoil to the wind and deny the inevitable collision of man and earth and focus beyond the trees, beyond the forest, until the voice fades and I am conscious again for a moment on top of a giant log.  I slide up and drop over the hollow gap below and find the muses waiting on the other side.

Five minutes to midnight or 3:28am, I don’t know which, and I am there throughout time with all the dead poets, friends and heroes who left before their time…James Dean, Jim Morrison, Bruce Lee, Trevor Peterson, Craig Kelly, Alex Loewe, Goran Kropp, Denis Fontaine, Heath Ledger, Shane McConkey…my cousin David at 16…and more.  In a world of exceptional people there are precious few who truly inspire and as they fall, each one in turn reminds me of the next.  It is so sad to say, ‘in turn’, like it was meant to be, by design.  The names and voices call us from the snow, and at home, far from the empty dreams we walk the halls as years pass and find our wives asleep and little boys and girls who woke up and crawled into our beds after a bad dream.  It is an all too true reminder that we take them with us when we do these things.  Like Shane said, there was a time when I too wrote I might never see 30 or 40 and yet here I am with their voices.

I imagine I see in those stolen moments what they saw and taste ‘the search’ at the tip of my tongue.  Unless you have fallen from a plane (a perfectly good one) and touched that awakening moment that commands you alive, or better commands that you question your life in a flash of white not knowing if you will surface from a wave or be forever one with the white light of an avalanche or slide down the pavement or dirt until the friction of the impact and the bone crushing clash of gravity and normal force make you stop breathing, you can’t imagine what they felt the instant before the inevitable.  It is like they say, your life flashes past in the blink of an eye, no, faster, and I mean your whole life before and beyond the chaos of disaster…the loves, the triumphs, the failures, the regrets, loved ones laughing, the dreams of your own seemingly inevitable funeral, that first ride on the Honda 50 motorcycle that had you hooked on speed, the children you have yet to hold, the dream of growing old with the one you love…all time and place and spirit combine and before you are lost, you are whole, and you know the truth in that fleeting moment before death and then, god willing, you are alive, thanking god (or whatever other divinity  you denied you implore the moment before) that you are alive.

My heart races…and then, at the open light at the end of the glade I slide to a stop and breathe…it’s nearly morning now.  I look up at the clock, check for daylight through the blinds, see the new day has arrived, and know if I listen closely the voices will be with me.

I AM a Domestic Goddess.  I can do almost everything I need to do at my home, but I do ask my wonderful husband to do some things.  I can’t have him think I can live without him!

However, on this one, he let me fly solo.  We are having two doors replaced, a storm door and an entry door, the back door to be specific.    I really love our house, the location, the floor plan, all of it.  It’s ten years old now and beginning to show it’s age in a few spots.  We recently had  the exterior repainted, installed a new dishwasher, water heater and now it’s time for the doors.  Our back door faces West and gets some sun in summer. The problem is the weather seals on it are shot and there’s a gap big enough at the bottom to allow webworms to come into my house.  ICK!  Besides, the people who lived here before had small dogs and there’s a dysfunctional doggie door at the bottom that’s covered w/plywood. Not an attractive look.

We went to our local Lowes and Home Depot to get an idea of what’s available for doors.  DH had to work so he sent me on my way to order the doors.  we’d discussed it and it seemed easy enough.    As I am ordering the doors, I see a charge on the printout for delivery, which is separate from the $250 I’m paying to have them installed.  What is this? He explained that this is the charge for the guy to pick them up at the store.  I wasn’t happy about it and the guy said he could take it off, but in the shuffle, forgot to. 

I went back yesterday to get it refunded and change the installation of the doors.  Initially he told me it would save me $30 to have them done at the same time, but in actuality, it was only $9.  Needless to say, I didn’t want to wait the extra week or two to get them done together.  Long story short, they were going to charge me this $25 two times.  I said, um, no.  He called a manager over and I explained that I didn’t appreciate it and wasn’t going to pay this charge when I’m already paying to have them installed.  He had the cojones to ask me if I could take the doors.  Um, NO. Not doing it. 

I really didn’t want to have to do it, but he was not being helpful.  I had to play the bitch card.  I looked at him and said, ‘Please don’t make me play the cranky customer card and cancel this order. Don’t make me do it.’  He actually stopped and THOUGHT about it!  Seriously. In this economy, in this climate, I’m sure he wouldn’t want to have to explain to his boss why he lost a big sale, b/c I’m telling you these damn doors are a lot more expensive than I thought they’d be.  I hate having to do that!

I’m telling you, I have learned my lesson.  After that experience, I will NEVER shop at Home Depot again, no matter how much I might save. Period.

B o o k m a r k

Listening stills us.

Holding it in your hand

brings a refrain.

The wave of your voice grows

roots from my feet. The ink

of this pen turns bright blue.

A child would know. Under three?

You get in free! Doors are for

when you grow up.

Laughter will open any door.

But we all gotta agree!

Leaves too, they don’t hesitate.

Abandon your keys to jingly

places. Keep your ears.

Keep your fingers, your toes.

They know how to turn the pages.

And I’m right here,

page twenty-two.

Neil Reid © November 2009

There are many benefits of installing RETRACTABLE SCREEN DOORS in your modern home. For one, they allow maximum amount of air and light to go through inside the house without obstructing your view either from the inside or the outside.

Secondly, they can fit on any contemporary door types, such as sliding, French and patio. These advantages make retractable screen doors ideal replacement doors. Get a glimpse of some screen doors being offered by online retailers.

Retractable Screen by Zanzar:

This screen door allows fresh air and natural light but prevents pests and bugs from coming in. The design is unobtrusive that whenever the door is closed, the screen is kept completely hidden from view. No seasonal removal and storage of the screen is required. Furthermore, Zanzar screen is spring-loaded making standard screen doors obsolete. Screen door kits consist of a roller case with measurement of 1 and ¼ inches by ¾ inches. They are designed for vertical retracting applications only. This is available at doorandwindowscreens.com.

Wizard Retractable Screen for Sliding Doors:

This screen door matches naturally with your sliding door, providing the same functions offered by traditional screens minus any negative consequences. You can pull the screen only when you need it, giving you an unhindered view from the inside or outside. This door can also be customized by choosing from the 424 color matches. The standard colors that you can match are white, linen, anodized, coffee tan, sandalwood, grey, black and brown. Wood grain finishes are also available, including dark acacia, dark cherry, dark ash, light fir, light ash, dark fir, light knotty, light oak, dark walnut and dark oak. The door is available at wizardscreens.com.

Alpine Lite-Touch Model Retractable Screen Door:

As the name suggests, this screen door can be opened or closed with just one gentle sideward push on the handle. The screen door stays in place once you removed the pressure on the handle. This is due to the company’s exclusive counter-balance system which prevents slamming of the door. The door features a fiberglass insect screen that is manufactured extra strong by Phifer Wire Products Inc. The top and bottom closing channel and screen guides are tightly sealed, preventing insects from coming in. Sill ramps are provided to protect screen guide at the bottom from any damage and to allow wheelchairs easy access. You can find this door at alpineretractablescreens.com.

Pull Down Retractable Screen by SecretScreen:

This screen can be pulled down from above eye level housing, resulting to a fully visible front door and completely unobstructed doorway. You can have several choices of valances to match the trimmings of your house. The door is constructed with weatherproof and durable aluminum and you can adjust the tension and speed of the screen door. Available screen materials are charcoal screen and vertically striped white and charcoal. If you do not want to use the screen door temporarily, just remove it from its housing by pressing the tab on the mounting clips and store it.

Retractable Screens by Hid-N-Screen:

Replacing the conventional screen doors, the Hidnscreen Retractable Screen is easy to install, cost effective and simple to operate. It provides protection against pests and bugs without obstructing your view. They fit any door types including double, French, inswing, outswing and sliding glass. Check them out at hidnscreen.com.

yes, Simeon the carpenter. Not Simeon of Biblical fame.

As far back as I can remember, there was Simeon, our in-house carpenter at my mother’s beck and call. So sometimes when we’d come home from school, we’d find newly painted cabinets. Or scaffolding made of bamboo for the sala’s high ceiling. Sometimes we’d catch Simeon painting that by his lonesome. And Simeon was always smiling quietly when we’d greet him. Simeon, Mama’s loyal carpenter, our friend. I am no longer sure if he outlived Mama. But my sisters and I collectively remember Simeon and sometimes wish we had our own Simeon.

why do I suddenly write of Simeon? these past week, we’ve had 3 carpenters over. I think I wrote about them a few days back. Their leader is a told, old man. He is not burly the way Simeon was. But he is as quiet and efficient. His name: Angel. And he is one. We hired his services and those of his friends pakyaw.I guess he believes he overpriced us because he’s been looking around for other things to do and make for us. Initially, he was hired to make one china cabinet, replace the doors of the kitchen, the bathroom, our bedroom door and the maid’s bathroom door. But he has since made my husband a computer table and a platform for our generator so when it floods in the garage, the generator need not be put inside the sala. Thank you God, for sending Angel and his friends. Angel is the cousin-in-law of the maintenance person in my husband’s workplace whom we’d call for minor tasks. He initially thought he could take on the house repairs but when he saw the magnitude of the work, he recommended Angel. Oh yes, Angel has also replaced hinges in our closets. Oh and per the contract, he replaced kitchen cabinet doors.

******

In relation to the repairs, our bedroom door now is maple brown. For 34 years now, it has been white, or dirty white. Seeing it brown and living with that takes some doing. Certainly it looks better because the old door had deep scratches/gashes from my wheelchair but the color is a bit off-putting. My preferred share of brown would have been lighter. When the project started, it was just right. So why is the hue deeper now? Truth be told, I’d like a house with palo china brown colors but furniture of the sort usually use wood-laminated boards. After Ondoy, I don’t want to have anything to do with wood-laminated stuff.

Wood, hard wood, solid wood, can withstand extreme weather conditions. So our galinera in the sala breezed through Ondoy. They continue to stand proud, no damage, thank you. But the parquet flooring of our room is anything but even. Funds permitting I’d like them replaced. Are there bedrooms that have tiles as flooring? Or will resorting to that defy convention and wisdom?

You take a deep breath and you walk through the doors
It’s the morning of your very first day
You say hi to your friends you ain’t seen in a while
Try and stay out of everybody’s way
It’s your freshman year and you’re gonna be here
For the next four years in this town
Hoping one of those senior boys will wink at you and say
You know I haven’t seen you around, before

(Chorus)
‘Cause when you’re fifteen and
Somebody tells you they love you
You’re gonna believe them
And when you’re fifteen feeling like
There’s nothing to figure out
But count to ten, take it in
This is life before you know
Who you’re gonna be
Fifteen

You sit in a class next to a redheaded Abigail
And soon enough you’re best friends
Laughing at the other girls
Who think they’re so cool
We’ll be out of here as soon as we can
And then you’re on you’re very first date
And he’s got a car and you’re feeling like flying
And you’re mamma’s waiting up and you’re thinking he’s the one
And you’re dancing ’round your room when the night ends
When the night ends

(Chorus)
‘Cause when you’re fifteen and
Somebody tells you they love you
You’re gonna believe them
When you’re fifteen and your first kiss
Makes you head spin ’round but
In your life you’ll do things greater
Than dating the boy on the football team
But I didn’t know it at fifteen

When all you wanted
Was to be wanted
Wish you could go back
And tell yourself what you know now

Back then I swore I was gonna
Marry him someday
But I realized some bigger dreams of mine
And Abigail gave everything she had to a boy
Who changed his mind
And we both cried

(Chorus)
‘Cause when you’re fifteen and somebody tells you they love you
You’re gonna believe them
And when you’re fifteen, don’t forget to look before you fall
I’ve found time can heal most anything
And you just might find who you’re supposed to be
I didn’t know who I was supposed to be
At fifteen

la la la la la…la la la la la…la la la la la

Your very first day
Take a deep breath girl
Take a deep breath as you walk through the doors

One day, as I was coming inside from enjoying lunch on the patio, I ran into a small problem with the door.  The doorknob would not turn.  I jiggled it a bit, and it still wouldn’t turn.  I sprayed it with WD-40, and it still wouldn’t turn.  I gave it some time to rest and when I came back to it, it still wouldn’t turn.  I even tried hitting it on the side, which always fixes the tv and bad attitudes in brothers, but it still wouldn’t turn.

That was when I realized I was just going to have to replace it.  I devised a grand plan that involved replacing the front door lock and knob with a matching set and transferring the working knob to the back door and the keyed lock to the garage door, since I don’t have a key to that lock.  I thought it was a pretty good plan.

Joe and I made a trip to Home Depot and picked out a nice new doorknob and deadbolt set.  It claimed to be easy to install.  As it turns out, the installation of the new ones were not what we should have been worrying about.

As we soon realized, it’s pretty complicated to get a knob and deadbolt off a door.  It makes sense, don’t get me wrong, but it just seemed like we should be able to just unscrew it from the inside and be done with it.  But no.  After looking at things from all angles and with a flashlight and poking everything with a screwdriver, we had to resort to some internet research.  Luckily, Joe is good at internet research and doesn’t just type “how do I take a doorknob off the door” like I probably would have.  Who knew that each doorknob company makes them differently?

Eventually we got the knob and deadbolt off the door and, as promised, the  new lock and knob fit perfectly and were relatively easy to install.

Kind of hard to see, but it looks lovely.

After this ordeal, we had to call it a night.  On my next day off, I was planning on implementing steps 2 and 3 of my plan: putting the knob on the back door and the lock on the garage door.

The knob on the back door was much easier to remove, or maybe it was just that I was that much more knowledgeable about doorknobs at that point.  Either way, I was very disappointed when I realized that the knob from the front door was not going to fit on the back door.  The front door was a 2 3/4″ and the back door was cut for a 2 3/8″.  I was a little frustrated with this, but decided to just use the very secure method of deadbolting the door and leaving the knob-hole open.  Only someone with really skinny arms would be able to break in.

Even after the doorknob sizing letdown, I was still ready to tackle the deadbolt on the garage.  After removing it, I found that it had the same size problem.  I had to just put the old one back on and sit on the couch pouting because my plan had not worked exactly as I wanted it to.

I did eventually buy a new knob for the back door and it was quite easy to install.  It turns out that the doorknob/lock makers figured out a way to make them adjustable and end all my frustration.  I love it!

The mother walked away,

with an exasperated smile,

She’d been trying to wean her daughters,

from the bottle for a while,

She said,”If you want to be big girls,

you must leave the bottle behind”,

The youngest said,”Tomorrow mom,

I need my bottle one more time”,

Years later in a treatment room,

with her brother of forty-two,

She listened as the Doctor said,

”Sir I have bad news for you”,

“To live you must let the bottle go,

and leave that life behind”,

Her brother spoke with a trembling voice,

”I need my bottle one more time”,

Sometimes we are weak,sometimes we are strong,

and most don’t understand,

There are times in life when weak or strong,

we all need a helping hand,

If we reached out more with love,

perhaps then we would find,

The strength to let ‘our’ bottles go,

and leave the pain behind.

c.d.m.11/09

this poem was written by  my good friend Cheryl, (Photo by me) to visit her blog and check out more of her poetry…go to “Whispers of the Day”  on my  my blog roll or try clicking my link posted here.

http://whispersoftheday.wordpress.com

At first I thought it was slightly strange that this lady kept potatoes in a room, but then I realised that I keep my potatoes in my cupboard. (Side note: When exposed to light, potatoes turn green, which can turn poisonous). Anyway, what WAS strange was that she kept potatoes in her outfit, like a marsupial of some sort. When one does this, the potatoes cease to be called potatoes, but are instead called, Poeys. (Note: this may or may not be true).

The doors in Nepal were like an old school, French window hybrid. A lot of them still use metal slide-in bolts and padlocks. On top of that, wood carving is not only a big part of the Nepalese culture but also an integral aspect of the country’s architecture. There were plenty of things to see, but I was particularly charmed by its doors.

Whilst my infatuation with doors may seem peculiar, that is because it is, and I have been told so, many times before. Ah, well.

Like I said, they seem more like windows. They have ledges and several frames, and mirror a hole in a wall more than they do an actual door.

To get it out of the way, I’ve been thinking about what it is about doors that infatuates me so. Firstly, I just like them because some of them are beautiful, be it a steel sliding door of a converted warehouse, or a hand-carved wooden antique door, or a large, two story medieval-looking door.

Aside from that, doors are like peep holes into a life I may never know or encounter, which in turn, sparks my imagination and wonder. Like, I wonder, what’s beyond that door? And I imagine what could be beyond that door. (That is to say, if I were Pandora, I’d be fucked. Having said that, I don’t go around opening doors).

Of course, what is beyond a door isn’t always a mystery. At times, they are just doors to a shop that you can just walk into. In this case, I like how door frames act like photoframes. They create a border around something cluttered, thus drawing your attention into objects that lay inside a room. To me, that is aesthetically pleasing, like a fine painting or a beautiful photograph.

Things like fate, coincidences, signs and design (where design here refers to teleology), fascinates me. Sometimes, if we are lucky, we meet a person who changes us. And whenever that happens to me, I like to think of all the little steps and decisions I made and they made, which caused our chance meeting to happen. But was it chance or fate? Or was it merely a pre-determined plan? Who knows! But even now, for you and for me, there is someone special out there that we have yet to meet, whether he/she is a (future) close friend or a partner. It is the idea of not knowing, the inability to grasp the unknown, which sparks my curiousity. As such, I imagine and wonder, and from a lifetime of track records, I’ve been wrong every time, i.e. the special people in my life I have failed to correctly conjure up in my mind prior to meeting them. Nonetheless, it is always a pleasant surprise.