Reno ripped camping

I'm pretty much camping out here at this moment, as both the kitchen and the bath room have been ripped out. At least they put the flush back in before they left! The demolition has revealed an interesting thing. What was suspected about the house not having a shred of insulation is true. Can you imagine what a house up there (Ontario) would feel like, either Winter or Summer, without insulation? Fortunately, though this is not yet California's temperate "sweet spot," (that would be San Diego,) the conditions here are usually not that extreme. So -- the decor I'm currently enjoying is "old sub floor" with accents in "revealed framing." There are very tasteful highlights in the style of "let's leave this in the wall; nobody will know," and "Mickey Mouse and Insect companions were here!" The rest of the house is done in contemprary "old painter's tarp," "Makeshift Drapes," and a very generous application of "Let's put this here for a moment till it's stored or tossed." Delightful. I'm expecting the photographers from Architectural Digest to arrive a bit before the ones from Town and Country magazine. The people from the Tribune Sunday Home Supplement have already come and gone, having been suitably impressed and somewhat in awe of my decorating prowess.

The exterior painters started yesterday and will be doing a lot of scraping and patching today. It has been pretty noisy here. The occasional train going by the house in Palgrave seems very tame compared to this, as we are as well on a busy street, the cross street of which goes to the local recycling center some blocks away. You may be in a similar traffic noise situation, what with the QEW so near. By contrast, my sister Mary's place where I sometimes take refuge, is very quiet, being just off the old "Gold Country" highway running North and South. It is actually called Hwy 49, after the "'49ers" who came in droves to pick, pan, and placer the yellow stuff of dreams out of the foothills there in the mid 1800's.


Day before yesterday it was 76F in the house with all the windows open. The sun set was spectacularly lovely. Earlier I was up at my favorite look-out spot, about three minutes from here. I could see all the bay from San Jose to San Pablo. The sparkling water was wearing sailboats like a bright young girl might wear freckles. Green was everywhere. I ate my fudge chocolate ice cream as I watched the business of the Bay Area ebb and flow below me. I could see all three of the major bridges from my perch. Square across from me was the Golden Gate, with a an immense container ship furrowing its way towards Oakland. Sailboats scurried from it like water bugs from a beaver. The Bay bridge nuzzled Treasure Island to the left and the San Rafael bridge looked lazy with its characteristic mid span slump, designed to save millions in construction costs, and give a thrill to people who drive too fast. Across the Bay and to the right stands the majestic profile of Tamalpais, the "sleeping maiden" of local Indian legend. I wondered if the folks surely up there at the summit could see whales migrating in the Pacific hard to the West of the Maiden's skirts. I saw jet liners taking off and landing at the major airports and remembered the many times I had arrived and departed from here by air, and the remarkable aerial view of the span from the Faralon Islands at sea to the lofty Sierra Nevada Mountains with their treasures of scenery and gold. It was a good day that I held in my hands and drank of deeply.