Lucy.... we're home!

The past few days have seen a miraculous change in Healdsburg... no rain! The tree in a neighbors yard has burst into bloom with beautiful salmon colored flowers and the sun keeps peeking out from behind the cloud cover. Is it really possible that spring is knocking on our front door? The weather change has brought joy and positive energy back to 227 North Street. The evenings that we spend working, although still in the dark, are pleasant and productive. And things are finally moving ahead.

    Magic water supply lines, in "ya cant make no mistakes" red and blue... for those who are not trained in the art of PEX plumbing, that's red for hot water and blue for cold, are snaking all over the house.  Pex tubing and Sharkbite fittings have been a boon to our restoration. We installed the water supply for the entire house in three days, just cut the tubing, push on the fitting, and move onto the next. It is hard to believe it is that easy, but it is. The fittings are expensive, but I believe we spent a thousand dollars in materials, and saved twenty thousand in labor to install copper.
    Waste lines and vents for the sewer system are virtually complete and almost ready for pressure testing. We plan to test it ourselves for any leaks before we call for inspection so that we can pass with flying colors! The fire box has been placed and its flue runs straight up the old chimney chase next to a flue for the water heater and the exhaust pipe for the ground floor furnace. So many mechanicals, and it seems they will never end. Phillip is on the verge of completing electrics on the first floor and is moving skyward to the second and third, which only leaves gas lines, telephone, television cable, and perhaps wiring for sound, and we can finally begin insulation and interior shear walling. Someday in the near future all of these walls will be sealed up and we will forget the torture of the magic that lies beneath them.

 

The photo above left shows a wonderful invention called adust-a-box. They are electrical boxes that allow you to adjust their depth after the walls are sealed closed. With the turn of a screw the box will move forward or backward up to an inch and half either direction. Gone are the days of box extenders or longer screws too apply switches and cover plates to electric boxes that are embedded too deep into finished tile or plaster work.  

  

Garry has graciously returned to Healdsburg to give us a hand. He has taken on the restoration of the windows in the Living room, the gallery, and the first floor bathroom. Slowly he is working his way through a hundred and forty years of paint and crap that currently graces each window sash. Once stripped, repaired, glued, and sanded, he will add them to the stack of recreated windows  for priming and glazing, roping and weighting. 

With decent weather and a little luck on our side, 227 North Street may actually be water tight for the first time in who knows how many years. 

If you are wondering about the title of today's post I will share with you a fascinating occurrence that takes place at 227 North Street on an ongoing basis. On the weekends while we are are working the days through, folks are often found standing outside on the sidewalk looking up at our house. If we happen to be near by it is a welcome break to meet the friendly faces and have a chat about what we are doing. But then there are the others who simply walk in and start having a look around. It is quite astounding to be up on a ladder hammering and drilling away, and notice person, or worse a group of persons wandering by inside the house. The most common expression from them is "don't mind us, we're just being nosy!" All you can do manage to do is stare at them in dumbfounded wonderment at the nerve. And then try to steer them gently toward the front door. I guess I missed the "public property, come on in" sign on the door, or perhaps that is just how it is in Healdsburg. We have decided to give it a try ourselves, so if you happen to see us open your front door and walk in to have a look around, "don't mind us, we're just being nosy". 

 

Winter Blues

I have been trying to figure out why I have not been inspired to write over the last couple of months. It would seem to be the winter blues. This is our first winter in Healdsburg and it is an odd little town as the days grow shorter and the the weather changes. When November rolled in and the holidays loomed on the horizon it seemed that everyone left town. Off to warmer climes, second homes in the big city, or to hole up with family for Thanksgiving and Christmas. It became really apparent to us at Christmas and New Years. The sidewalks were not covered in a blanket of sparkling Christmas snow, but were rolled up and wrapped in tarps to await the return of the sun, longer days, and people. Even the stop lights seemed to just sit and sit on red waiting for someone to notice them so they could leap to yellow and green. Having come from two very large cities, and thrilled to be back in a small town environment, we are used to big gatherings and celebrating at the holidays, but found ourselves alone on Christmas Eve and New Years Eve. All of the friends that we have made here were nowhere to be found. So the holidays passed unusually quite for us and we concentrated on our house instead.

Now we find ourselves more than halfway through January and it is raining. Its been raining for more than two weeks with no sign of the sun in the near future. The rain and the blues have taken me by surprise as I grew up in weather like this. Oregon, where as they say "you don't tan, you rust". Of course if we could hibernate in our little shack, cook spaghetti, play cards and watch movies for the winter I might feel differently. But we spend our weekends at the house, and at least three evenings during the week. Those evenings are the hardest. Cold, wet, damp, dark, and quiet... with the exception of the cars honking at each other on the corner... But we suck up and carry on. There was a time a month ago that there was no end to plumbing. Now I am convinced there is no end to electric. Electric goes on and on and on... and we are still on the first floor. I don't think any of us truly appreciate what is behind our walls and how it got there. Every electric box that is placed requires thought about its position, not only where it falls on a given wall, but also it's relationship to other boxes and everything that surrounds it. Add to that the fact that we are placing things for our own home. Crazy rounds of discussion about what ifs. What if we decide to put a lamp there, or what if we put a chair here, or perhaps a sofa there? Room by room these discussions happen and room by room we have worked our way through. The kitchen and breakfast room are finally done and everything else is a piece of cake after that. The dining room and living room are also almost complete, and soon we will have the library and office wired and move onto the second floor.

Adding electric to our house has also spawned a nasty rumor around town. I feel like I should address it here and now. I hate to admit it but, It's true. We have joined the ranks of tract housing and we are installing recessed lighting. We fought and fought against "canning" a one hundred and forty year old house, but we finally gave into the pressure. Granted with the exception of the kitchen, the cans are art lighting placed along appropriate walls, but they are cans nonetheless. We both feel dirty, unclean, used, abused and so... average, so cross your fingers and hope we can downplay their appearance and when you see them don't torture us too much. By the way, all of this art lighting brings up a small problem... ART... lots of wonderful pools of beautiful light bathing walls that will hold, well, um, art? If you happen to have any lying around that you don't need be sure to let us know.

Who are "They" anyway?

I grew up with three monsters that I lovingly refer to as my brothers and sister. I of course was the angel of the brood and never caused a moment of trouble...  Sorry I was remembering my halo and how it glowed! Well, in my mind it did anyway. Our Mother is a woman with a mission, but always with a sense of humor. I remember as a kid, chores being dealt out on a daily basis, and when ever I would pass by one of my siblings I was reminded of my current chore. "She, told you to take out the trash", "She, told you to vacuum the living room", "She, told you, or She, said...", and it did not matter where you were, in the house or out in the back forty, that loud and clear voice would ring out true, "Don't call me 'SHE', I'm your Mother!"
This memory visits on a daily basis at the house. It is only a shell of a home with no insulation or interior walls. No windows on the East side, and poorly fitting ones everywhere else. Folks walking by on the sidewalk don't realize that we can hear every word that is said. We overhear all kinds of conversations about our home. "They, are doing such and such", They, are doing this and that", "They, are making huge mistakes...", They, are...". It's kind of crazy, and kind of fun at the same time. "They", "She", now I understand. Some times I want to run out the front door into the yard and yell out "we are not 'They', we are Mark and Phillip, and if you are so curious come on up and sit a spell". But fear not, we are recording every conversation for future reference.

We spent 9 days working our butts off at the house over the Christmas break. Rough plumbing, wiring, and earthquake retrofit were the name of the game. Lots of earthquake retro fit, cause ya know, that there hunerd-n-forty year old house might fall down if a big one comes along. Hmmmm, let's see, I guess that means that the 1906 and the 1968 were just little bumps in the night. Oh well, suck up and bust. So my right arm is killing me from holding the nail gun ten feet in the air as I added block, after block, after block, of two by ten lumber between all of the floor joists.

Hi everyone and Merry Christmas. I know it has been quite a few weeks since I have written, OK, more than a few weeks, and I apologize! I have been in sort of a dark mood with our house and it's not easy to write when you are in a dark mood. Maybe it was the short days and the rainy weather, or maybe it was too many people making decisions on our behalf that they should not have been making. Needless to say, we have made a stand and taken back our Casa. I am putting my foot down from now on and insisting that every choice, option, or decision goes by either Phillip or myself. So if you see folks strung up by their heels, and hanging from the third story windows, you will know that they done crossed us.

Things have been progressing, albeit incredibly slowly. I have numerous pictures of interesting and fascinating internal workings that I will post over the next few days. things like plumbing all done with "Big boy, tinker toy" fittings called Sharkbite, with red and blue plastic water pipes. Heating and air conditioning duct work, flexible duct work on the second and third floor and hard metal ducts on the ground floor to keep those critters out. But I will keep it simple today and share a couple shots of the new skin that the back part of the house has been getting.

I happened to catch these two shots early this week in that one sunny moment.

 

I promise to get my fingers back to typing and bring you all up to date on our progress, but for now accept our best and warm wishes for the new year!

Fashionable Dress for Winter

Quote from a local Fashion Critic: "For Healdsburg only the finest fashions are acceptable on the streets, and we present for your consideration the latest and hottest attire in rain gear. Note how the garment hugs the models body and yet allows ample space for air circulation and movement. Chic in its brown with a hint of green coloring and subtle striping that shows off the natural curvature of the form. This new rain gear is sure to become a staple in every home's wardrobe, and no true fashion forward Healdsburgian would be caught without it this season"

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But being the true fashion whore that our house is, as soon as everyone is wearing "it", "it" is discarded for the next hottest trend. The newest and most creative underground winter wear to come along in years... a Roof!

Its true! After all these years of a disintegrated and leaking covering, and two thorough interior soakings in the past month, 227 North Street is finally getting a new roof. And now a word from our sponser...

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Do you have buckets sitting around the inside of your home as extra precaution everytime it rains? Are you worried that little Johnnie or Sara Beth are having emotional trauma due to bed wetting only to discover large gaping gashes in the ceiling above their beds, does dinner seem moister than usual because of the dripping water of the dining room table when it rains? Have no fear, Leo is here!

Call Leo's Roofing 707-894-8909

Leo's Quality Roofing-The preferred roofing company for 227 North Street

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And now, back to our show... With a new roof comes a new outlook. Something finished! That is an amazing feeling in a house that does not have a single item that does not need to be fixed, resurfaced, restructured, or rebuilt. But we have a new roof! Granted it will not be finished until this weekend, but a new roof nonetheless. We are thankful and grateful to everyone who perched precariously 35 feet in the air to make it happen.

In the "let's revisit it for a moment department"

My Iphone camera caught the following images last weekend, as our dear friend Josie Gay was having a discussion with Phillip on the merits, or lack there of, of a toilet facing a window.

Yes indeed, the illustrious Miss Josie Gay is perched upon an imaginary toilet as she tries to decide how visible she is to the windows of the neighboring house.

Phillip then joins her in optional position two, which is much less visible to the street.

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And lastly I want to thank all of my readers for the lovely comments and emails in response to my last post. The heartfelt support and acceptance is overwhelming.  I promise not to get out my soapbox very often, it actually takes a lot of pushing for it to appear, but when I do, I hope you will continue to comment and let your voice be heard.

PS, To Ray Holly who wrote to me...

Hi Mark,
I just took some time to catch up on your blog, and enjoyed reading about your remodeling adventure. I have a thought about the new disabled access ramp that will go in soon on your corner. The yellow stuff is referred to as "truncated domes" and it's intended to provide a visual reference for visually disabled folks that they're entering a transition zone from street to sidewalk, or vice-versa. The law requires this tactile surface, but the law does not require that it be yellow. Most cities specify yellow because it's the most common color, but (check out this website http://www.armor-tile.com/truncated-domes_info.html) it comes in more colors, including gray. It might not be too late for your corner to switch to another color, especially if you offer to buy it yourself. You might want to ask on one of your many trips to the building department.

Ray, you better believe I have looked at the website and will be making an offer to the city to purchase a nice subtle piece of gray "truncated domes" for the forthcoming ramp. At least that way after all of the work we are going through to restore our home we wont have a glowing brighter than the sun, neon yellow, alien landing pad, out front. Thank you so much for the info.

Well, I knew it would come at some point... A Soapbox and the answer to life in the Universe, -42-

The line in the sand has been drawn longer after the narrow margin (52% to 48%) passage of prop 1 in the State of Maine yesterday.
Is my blog only a place where I post cute and fun pictures of our home, and write amusing anecdotes about the people that surround our endeavor,  or should I occasionally pull out my soap box and make a stand? As much as my house is part of who I am, it is only one facet, and I will take a brief moment and step aside from the magic of 227 North Street.

In the "guess what folks" department

Phillip and I are legally married like every other married couple in this state, and I love my husband more than anything in life. We were married after the Supreme Court of the State of California overturned the ban on gay marriage  in May 2008, and the passing of proposition 8 one year ago. However our legal union (Marriage) stops at the border, and is not recognized by almost every state in the union or the federal government, and although we now enjoy some of the benefits provided to married couples, there are many we are denied.

The line has been been drawn in the sand by those of the "Religious" faith, and those that are not. By those who are conservative and status quo, and those who are forward thinking and live and let live. Marriage, historically is not a religious based joining, but a union of necessity, a joining of two clans to produce more grain, and children to harvest it. Somehow along the path, marriage became a "God" based joining of two souls.... a male soul and a female soul... why is that? where does that come from? based upon who's translation and interpretation of the bible? Is the Bible the ultimate answer to life in the universe?

I proposed the question on Facebook not too long ago... A country divided down the center, completely in half, how can it survive. And again I am thinking of that question, and am throwing it out to my readers. Please respond, comment, tell me what you think! But I will ask one huge favor... before you come to quick or gut inspired conclusions... go out there on the net, research, study, and learn with an open mind. Take a look at the lies and horror the proponents of Prop 1, and prop 8 have unleashed upon the world.

And now for the  très amusant part... I read a response to a newspaper article announcing the triumphant win of those in support of Prop 1 in the State of Maine, the writer claimed that this was the will of the voters, well at least the umpteen multitude of 80+ voters who wonder what ever happened to George W. and the glory days... ooops, that was meant to be inside voice, can I really write that on my blog? The writer also claimed that it was the will of "God" and the gays should leave the state because they were not wanted there.... OM(which ever god you choose to insert) can you imagine? How would anyone get beautiful flower arrangements, or dress designs, or amazing graphics and art? What about interiors, fabrics, shoes, purses, belts or jewelery? Architecture, sculpture, ar landscapes? yes some "Normal" folk do these things just fine... but think about it.... no gays? What is the world coming too?

PS.. No offense is meant to anyone of my readers of a religious faith. Religion is a personal choice and I respect and accept your choices in life. Remember my mantra, "Acceptance not Tolerance"

Halloween and a Room with a View

Halloween was great fun at our spooky old home. As 250 to 300 kids roamed the sidewalks, many crossing the street to get away from our house, we seem to naturally fall into the creepy haunted house category.

We stood quietly behind the closed door with a small Jack-O-Lantern in hand, who's face moved around behind the glass panel, beckoning the small, mid, and older children to dare to come up to the door. Phillip stood waiting behind it in Grim Reaper robes to greet them. Many decided not to approach... once a rumored haunted house, always a rumored haunted house. On occasion the front door was wide open and at the approach of would be trick or treaters, the door would suddenly slam shut... that one was good! I commented on how much I love the sound of children screaming in fright, only to be overheard by a couple passing by in front of the house, they found it quite ammusing and chuckled their way down the street. So welcome to the holiday season of 2009, we will do our best this year with our limited time and resources, but promise that the holiday season of 2010 will be our foray into big holiday celebrations. The neighborhood is fairly safe this year, however, next year you won't know what hit you!

The weekend, aside from Halloween, was spent hard at work on 227 North Street. Phillip spent Saturday, with plans in hand, laying out the new bathrooms, closets, and laundry room on the second floor. I, unfortunately, decided to do some digging in the front yard around the front door area.  I broke down the temporary ramp, and dug away at the mounds of dirt on either side of the entrance to our home. I guess I forgot how much work digging is, and boy was I sore Sunday morning, or perhaps I am just getting too old for this kind of work. Sunday we started building walls for the afore mentioned new rooms, and a discovery was made that makes you really hate the term "historic". The third floor bathroom has a dormer window being added to it so that it will not be cave like. The city is allowing the dormer windows because they are not visible from the street as they face west toward our next door neighbors home. But if you happen to look directly east there is an amazing view of Fitch Mountain. All we would need to do is build the dormers on the other side of the house, facing Fitch Street, to open up the view of the Mountain. But no! Dormer windows were not common on a home of our style in the 1870's, and as such the beautiful view will be walled up and covered over. As they say, buck up and get over it... count yourself lucky if you do not have to deal with term "historic".

When Tubs fly...

Tuesday October 27th dawned on 227 North Street with a monstrous crane parked on the property on the Fitch Street side. Roof trusses were the name of the game, for both the two story master section and the one story Breakfast room. While the crane and her crew were there we asked for a huge favor... The clawfoot tub that had been stored in the basement for years needed to be moved to the third floor guest bathroom. It is extremely heavy, and the concept of walking it up the two flights of very narrow stairs was inconceivable. So with a laugh at the concept, the crane crew lassoed that elusive tub and hoisted it forty some feet in the air so it could settle into its new home three stories up. So tubs, apparently, do have wings.

Stripped

The rumors are true! There is not a single solitary, tiny morsel of plaster or wooden lathe left in the house. Between Garry and Fabian (Garry's daytime help), and the two of us on the weekends, the house is now a blank slate. Nothing but studs, rafters, and flooring. It is very strange and kind of creepy in the way an empty barn is dark and mysterious.

Click here for a slide show of the strange pictures that Phillip took as the sun was going down. Be sure to click play.

Garry and Fabian worked their butts off the last two weeks, first carefully removing and labeling woodwork for refinishing and reuse, and then tearing plaster, lathe, and gazillion nails off of the walls and ceilings. They built a chute from the second floor, down the old chimney chase, to the first floor, so plaster could be poured from the higher levels and be piled in the middle of the Living room for later removal to a dumpster via wheel barrel.

Tons of plaster was poured down this chute creating a mountain of broken plaster in the middle of the Living room floor. All of the lathe was tied into bundles and thrown out of the second and third story windows to await the final dumpster toss. Two thirty foot long dumpsters were filled with the debris, who would have thought there could possibly be that much. After the plaster and lathe was removed came the cleaning. Sweeping, sweeping, and more sweeping, followed by hours of vacuuming, and then a good blow with a yard blower. The house now sounds open and hollow, with just a moment of its former self here and there.  The staircase still stands all trimmed and railed waiting for the day when it surfaces will be refinished.

 

The old Hippies in town have been dancing naked in the streets to hold the rains away, and we ask that they keep dancing! at least for another eight days. By the end of next week we should finally have a water tight roof, lots of gaping holes waiting for windows, but a beautiful new roof nonetheless. The roof trusses were lifted into place last Tuesday as the cap for the modern construction, and when compared to the 140 year old construction techniques, the difference is astounding. It is so hard to imagine how the builders managed back then without pneumatic nail guns, air compressors, computerized pre-building,  laser levels, power saws, and building codes. How could you have possibly built a house back then, without umpteen million pages of do's and don'ts? Without super thick concrete walls and the ever important "Simpson Strong Tie" catalog? Without round nails? The nails in the original house are all cut nails, or four sided square nails. They are actually quite beautiful in their own right, and Phillip has been collecting them from the work site as they are pulled from old lumber, and will eventually have enough to fill a large jar. This coming weekend we will be reframing areas of the old part of the house that are getting some reconfiguration, in preparation for the arrival of Phillips Father. Ed Engel arrives the day after Halloween to begin the installation of electric and plumbing. Very exciting times ahead! Real power that is inside the walls, who would have thought.

Poop and Porn

So much has been happening at the house over the last two weeks that it is hard to keep up with it everyday. New rooms are forming on the back of the house. The Kitchen, the Breakfast room, the Gallery, the Powder room, the Master Bedroom and Bathroom, the 3rd story attic space and Bathroom. It is amazing to watch the rooms form and take shape. What was once a vision in our minds and on paper is becoming reality. I now understand the excitement that people feel when they build a house from the ground up. With the addition of each new room there seems to exist what I call the daily panic. Little surprises that catch you off guard and make you question everything you are doing. The Dining Room opening is not centered on the wall due to the placement of new tie-downs for earthquake safety. Oh My God!!! Panic!!! The room is ruined, one wall is longer than the other, and you have to walk 18 inches further to get to the kitchen! Halt all work! So then we spend an hour or so discussing the ups and downs of an asymmetrical Dining Room opening, and all of the options available. Can we move it to the right? can we move it the left? can we make it smaller? can we move the tie down? I vote for walling the whole thing shut just to make the problem go away. But in the end we come to the conclusion that it might not be too bad to have a bit of asymmetry in the Dining Room and we move on. Restart building! The very next day we show up to find an exposed beam running across the new Kitchen opening, visually bisecting it from the Breakfast Room. Oh My God!!! Panic!!! The room is ruined! Stop building! There was such a lovely flow from the Gallery Hall into the Kitchen and on into the Breakfast room. The whole house is destroyed. Forget it all, we don't want to continue, sell the whole damn place. And again we spend an hour or so talking about the pros and cons of the beam, the options, or the lack there of, and come to the conclusion that maybe it's not so bad to have a bit of visual separation and the beam does allow for a nice ending point for cabinets and crown molding. Restart building! My favorite so far was the evening, just a few days ago, when the shape of the new Breakfast room and the new Powder room made their appearance.

I was looking for a picture of a Victorian Toilet

when I came across images of Thomas Crappers 

plumbing creations from the late 1800's. 

I remember the stories of Thomas Crapper from 

my childhood visits to the Seattle Underground

where they claimed to have an original Crapper 

invented by Thomas P. 

The panic set in when it was suggested that perhaps the Powder room was too large and took up space that could be devoted to the Breakfast room.  Over to the house we went with Stewart and Thomas in tow. Phillip, and Thomas both walked through the new space and examined the powder room from this angle and that angle, circled around the area, pretended to maneuver beside the soon to be sink and then sit upon an imaginary toilet. Perching in the position, leaning left, then right, pulling nonexistent toilet paper from a nonexistent toilet paper holder, and finally standing to proclaim the space was sufficient and just fine for pooping. Hmmmm, I always wonder about folks who poop at someone elses home when they are invited over for dinner to begin with... But in case you absolutely must, apparently we have fine space to do it in.

Thomas P Crapper

Tying in new construction to a 140 year old home is not always the easiest and smoothest form of building. But we move onward. More and more of the house is being stripped of its plaster and lathe. The house is practically bear bones, a clean slate from which to create. As the last of the plaster has come down more and more treasure has been unearthed. So far six different stashes tucked under floorboards. Porn! That is all this house has had to offer. Late Sixties and early Seventies porn. You really have to wonder what was going on in this city over the years to have this big, vacant, spooky old house in town full of Men's magazines, and other sorts of adult periodicals...

 

Spanking and... (the cover only) as found under a drawer on the third floor

For a city as small as Healdsburg there are an awful lot of churches in town so perhaps our house was the polar opposite, the local den of iniquity, a place for the Men folk to gather on a Sunday afternoon and do men things, like drink, smoke cee-gars, and look at naked women. I guess we shall never know, but I am thinking perhaps we should take advantage of all the churches and exorcise the house right away to expel all the ghosts of "Dirty Nurses", and "Super Bad Maids", and "Spanking Nannies".

SOS...SOS...SOS...

The rains have really done us in. The new construction is an absolute soaked mess, but worse than that is the 3 inches of water sitting in the basement. We spent last weekend, with house guests in tow, cleaning the last of the construction debris from under the house. There are 2 large rooms down there, one, that is 15 by 15 feet will be a wine cellar, the other which is 17 by 27 feet, we have yet to determine its use. We chiseled away extra concrete, and raked and vacuumed as best we could. We laid huge sheets of really thick black plastic down, and moved all of the old furniture that was left in the house, the remains of the front porch and the exterior, lower, fascia boards down to the cellar rooms to make space in the house for plaster demolition. Our builder assured me that the new floor over the wine cellar would be water tight, and he would cover it with plastic to be sure. I had real trepidation, and tried to get someone, anyone to take my concerns about the impending rain seriously, to no avail. In my twisted little brain I envisioned a huge plastic tarping, very tent like, attached to the house at the old roof line and draping to the left and to the right, so as to shed all the water safely away. But, no!
Our close friend Garry, who has come here from Los Angeles to help us for a couple of weeks, arrived at the house Monday morning to find the entire basement area sporting 3 inches of standing water. The trim, the front porch pieces, the fascia boards, were floating in a swimming pool of water. The antique furniture in the wine cellar was soaking wet and every little turned leg was sitting in water. Water was cascading down the new foundation walls like the lower decks of a sinking ship. Water was pouring onto the new subfloors above and finding the nearest place to vacate the area, headed south into the basement through every hole, crack, and crevice.  I went quickly to the house to join Garry, and I did the best we could. We wiped down the furniture and put all of the legs on bricks to get them up above the water. We covered everything we could with what plastic we had and stapled it down. It was pointless to try to get any water out as new water poured down to take its place. The water found its way under the plastic sheeting in the basement and walking on it is like a carnival fun house. I'm not quite sure how we will get it dry, but we will figure it out. I know there are a bunch of old hippies that live in this area, and we sure would appreciate it if you would get those clothes off and get out there and do your naked "here comes the sun" dance.