Author: Simon

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Hoard a Cord

Or two!

…which is the most aggravating unit of measure. A cord of stacked firewood, which measures 4’x4’x8′, does not conveniently fit within any structure made of lumber, whose standard dimensions come in 4′ or 8′. Because the internal dimensions necessitate the outer frame to be longer, otherwise the wood cannot be overlapped in order to attach screws. What I needed was 4′,4″ and 8′,6″ boards, but they’re not sold in those lengths. So I had to buy 10′ versions, which was more expensive and generated a lot of waste.

But dammit, I would not be deterred. The accumulating piles of wood from my trees, due to easement reclamation, fungal disease, hurricanes, and general pruning, has left me with quite the back-logs (ha!). I wanted to finally process it all, and I wanted to stack firewood in exacting measurements, as well as be sure that future firewood providers were being truthful. So 10′ boards it would have to be, cut down to give me those exacting lengths.

Taking a cue from my previously-built tomato trellis, which is still firmly standing 5 years later, I opted for 4x4s, stuck 2 feet deep. That’s the maximum depth I can get post diggers down to, and historically that’s been sufficient to stay below the frost line. I doubt that with the weight of the wood that frozen ground pushing my posts out would be a problem anyway, but I’d rather not have to build this again. The rocky soil was certainly a pain, but fortunately I had supplemental manual labor to employ.

A bad design of engineering is to rely upon connecting hardware for load-bearing applications, so the supporting boards, which would hold the firewood off the ground, were rested upon sunken 2x4s, screwed into the outer frame. The goal being, the vertical support would rest directly upon the ground, rather than relying upon the main structure.

But not all firewood is cut to the same length, so in order to prevent smaller pieces from touching the ground, I installed fencing wire to shore up the gaps.

One cord down, I added a second identical section.

There are plans for a roof, using leftover metal sheeting from the house roof. I’m hoping it will match nicely, but the more pressing matter was to get the wood split and stacked for the changing seasons. And with the help of a newly-purchased splitter, it only took several weeks! Damn was that a lot of wood!

I’m glad that’s done. The wood situation needed addressing and I had been planning a storage solution for years. More pics to come once the roof is installed, but I’ll need some more time off for that. Hoping to wrap this up for 2025!

–Simon

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Viva la Renaissance

Renaissance festivals weren’t a part of my childhood. The American southwest celebrates a more macho frontiersmanism: cowboys and indians, rodeos, gunslingers and sheriffs. And the festivals emulated that type of historical lifestyle. Performers lassoed cattle, twisted rope, boiled lye and ash into soap, and executed dangerous stunts on horseback. It was fun, but didn’t mesh well with a nerd culture. Sword and sorcery just wasn’t a thing.

And it’s funny to think that Ohio used to be the frontier. But I think that since the land works better for farming, as opposed to ranching; and the locals’ culture is mostly derived from Europeans and Scandinavians, vs Spanish (because really, Spain isn’t considered a European nation in the academic sense) – that the concept of enjoying medieval European history maintains stronger roots.

Whatever the reason, I like it better.

I also never posted about it before. So here’s some pics from this year’s Ohio Renaissance Festival:

My old man in a mushroom shirt and wizard’s hat. He could totally pull off a Radagast look.
The kid shooting a ballista. Proper siege equipment training is crucial.
Munch munch turkey leg.

And there we have our crew of nerds. Way better than rodeos.

–Simon

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The Roof, the Roof, the Roof…

…is unlikely to catch fire, as it is now constructed of “Galvalume® coated steel with Sherwin-Williams Weather XL finish”, which is “cold-rolled steel that is hot-dipped in aluminum and zinc alloys”. So it’s unlikely to rust as well.

Fire and water – that’s two of the elements.

It’s also “typically rated for wind speeds of 120–160 mph — equivalent to EF-2 tornadoes (111–135 mph)”.

There’s wind.

And, it’s UL 2218 class 4 rated, which “means the roof can withstand a 2-inch steel ball dropped from 20 feet without cracking, splitting, or losing structural integrity.”

That counts as earth.

Yes – our roof is now likely the strongest part of the house.

Like most of the house, the existing roof was old and subjected to poor maintenance and former “repairs”. It’s always been a point of confusion to me that shingles are attached to the sheathing with nails that are over an inch longer than the boards are thick. The industry standard is apparently to waterproof a roof by punching thousands of holes in it, while simultaneously creating a hazard to many a cranium that dare to stand up too far in the attic. But I’m not a roofer, obviously. There must be a reason.

As for the prior homeowner, he had disconnected the attic fan, resulting in extreme temperature fluctuations which led to dry rot. The shingles were bent and shedding sand, and water intrusion was beginning. A full overhaul was needed, lest I fall through the roof and finally be freed of this mortal coil.

But first I needed to spend all my money. Leave nothing behind upon death, right? Isn’t that the Boomer credo?

And fortunately that wasn’t hard to do, especially not when selecting premium materials. It’s a pity I’ll have to strip the nice roof out and replace it with crappy shingles when we finally have to move out. Because, leave nothing of value to the next home-buyers, right? Isn’t that the home-seller’s credo?

But for the meantime, we’ll have a nice roof to enjoy.

Working with sales people is always a mixed bag. I had much experience with this when shopping for an HVAC replacement.

Aire de Vita

Sometimes they’re old people with no sense of humor. Sometimes they’re young people who haven’t acquired sufficient knowledge to talk about their products. Sometimes it’s obvious they’re trying to pull a psychological evaluation on me to bleed me dry (I’m not filling out a questionnaire on my feelings behind the purchase). In this instance, however, they appeared both mathematically-challenged and, shall we say, pushy on certain products, like a used car salesman. I initially asked about metal roofing, and was immediately dissuaded because of its high cost.

So we spent the remainder of the consultation looking at traditional asphalt shingles, colors, and cost. And when done with our selections, received a quote. Then we had a brief couples’ financial discussion. Then, before committing, I asked, for curiosity’s sake, what the metal roof quote would be. It turned out be about 10% more – which was perfectly doable. Rather than indulge potential buyers for a sales quote on a requested product, they had sized us up and steered us towards a more budget-friendly product. Which we rejected, because we wanted the metal. And that wasted us all a lot of damn time.

What followed was a confusing purgatory of delays and no-contact from the parent company. Bad weather, underestimated timelines of backlogged contracts, and failure to call and leave messages despite their protestations to the contrary, which left us impatient and annoyed. But eventually, they committed to a date.

Fortunately, the people actually doing the labor were far more competent than their administrative counterparts. Open to requests and forthcoming with information, only a few minor complains impacted the operation – which they willingly fixed.

I have yet to climb up there, mostly out of fear. Those standing seams look difficult to navigate, and I want it perfectly dry before I do any adventuring of my own. I anticipate gutter-cleaning and light-hanging to be somewhat more difficult, but at least the roof won’t need any further attention for what should be the remainder of our natural lifespans.

Oh, and we’re the first ones in the neighborhood to get a metal roof. Ha!

–Simon