As I was finishing my first cup of coffee this morning, I looked out my window and saw Nanny on her way to the garden with a picking bucket. I suited up and rode down on my bike to join her. Two hours later, we'd picked a canner full of butterbeans, a 5-gallon bucket full of purple hull peas, and several two-gallon buckets of squash, zucchini, eggplant, okra, and cucumbers. I left the peas and okra with Nanny (she's got folks coming for dinner tomorrow), and I brought home the rest.
Among the bounty was a zucchini as big around as a baseball bat. I washed it, scraped out the big seeds, and grated the meaty part, rind and all. This grated stuff went into a batch of cranberry zucchini bread. I'm fixin' to give you the recipe, because it is da bomb.
Makes two loaves.
Oven: 350
3 cups of self-rising flour
2 teaspoons of ground cinnamon
[Mix those together and set them aside.]
2 cups of grated zucchini
2 cups of sugar
2 eggs
1/2 cup oil (I used olive oil)
1 cup of dried cranberries (I'm estimating, here. I had part of a bag left over from another project. It all went in. More wouldn't hurt.)
1 cup of pecans.
1/4 cup of Limoncello *
[Mix all that stuff together, then add the dry ingredients. I added the pecans after stirring in the dry ingredients.]
Pour into greased loaf pans and bake at 350 for 55-60 minutes.
Yum.
* Now, I know what you're thinking: "Like I have limoncello in my pantry." I normally wouldn't have it, either, but I made some limoncello a few months back, and it's been sitting in my refrigerator ever since, waiting for me to either drink it or do something with it. I tasted the raw bread batter before the limoncello, and after. It was o-kayyyy without it, but it was way better with it. I really can't taste the lemon, but it gave the batter an extra little zing that lit up a bunch more taste buds. Lemon juice might do the same thing, but I might add another 1/4 cup of sugar with plain juice.
While I was making the zucchini bread, I saw a TV chef making "meatballs" out of grated zucchini, bread, and eggs. (Hmmm...I think we call 'em "fritters" here.) He ate them with marinara sauce and pasta, just like meatballs. He did the same thing with cooked, mashed eggplant. He said you could either fry them or drop them raw into the marinara. I shall try this with the next baseball bat I pick. ;)
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Beans & Peas
Thursday evening, Nanny called to ask if I intended to pick the green beans, squash, cucumbers, and okra. She said she'd picked all that stuff mid-week, but it needed it again. To be honest, at that moment, with the summer heat raging, I couldn't have cared less if they never got picked, but I said I'd have a look at them after supper. When we finished eating, The Husband and I got on our bikes and rode down to the garden. There wasn't enough daylight left to do everything, so we picked the easy stuff, and I said I'd be back Saturday morning to get the green beans. As we were preparing to ride back home, Pop-Pop hollered out the back door that if we would put the soaker hose in the tomatoes and turn it on, he'd come out later and turn it off. The Husband dutifully complied.
Saturday morning, I woke up at 6:30, drank a cup of coffee, put on my gardening clothes, and headed to the garden for my appointment with the green beans. I'd been working about an hour and a half when Nanny came out to help. We finished off the green beans, picked a "mess" of purple hull peas for Nanny's supper, and checked the other vegetables. The squash, cucumbers, and okra needed picking again, so I went to the shed to get a knife to cut the okra while Nanny started on the cucumbers.
Now, I haven't mentioned that Pop-Pop recently strung wire for an electric fence around the entire garden, except for one little gap near the tomato plants. No, I didn't get shocked, for he hasn't electrified it, yet. But the wire is waist-high - too high to step over, too low to bend under - and so right now the only convenient entrance into the garden is through that gap by the tomatoes. Coming back with the knife, striding full steam ahead, I took about two steps before sinking ankle deep into mud. I hollered, "Whoaaaaa!" and started windmilling my arms - reverse the engines, Captain! - to regain my balance. Hearing me holler, Nanny looked up and said that Pop-Pop had forgotten to turn off the soaker hose Thursday night. It had dripped all night long, deeply saturating the ground around the tomatoes. Friday's blistering sun had dried the top layer, making it look deceptively safe to walk on. When I tried to pull my feet out, the mud sucked off both of my plastic garden clogs. I stepped out of them and left 'em where they were until I finished cutting the okra, then I pried them out, hosed them off, and rode home with my bounty.
Back at home, I canned 7 quarts of green beans and 3 pints of pickled okra. The squash and zucchini went into the food dehydrator. Having fooled with various ways of preserving squash over the past few years, I've learned that we like it best dried. I sprinkle the squash slices with a seasoning blend and dry them until they're brittle. They make pretty good chips for dips, but my favorite thing to do with them is toss a handful of them into soups and pasta dishes. They re-hydrate fairly well, and they bring a little taste of summer to winter meals. I suppose they'd be ok stored in an air-tight jar, but I like to put them in bags and freeze them. A 5-tray dehydrating nets about a scant quart bag full of dried squash. Since they're dry when they go into the bags, they don't stick together, and I can just reach in, grab what I need, and put the rest back in the freezer.
With this canning, I think we have about all the green beans we need. Unfortunately, the green bean plants do not know this and will continue to make, especially if we get a shower or two along the way. Thus, if you live nearby and need some green beans, grab your pickin' bucket and come on over. I'll even help you pick them.
Note to my sister: another week and the eggplants will be ready. Come & get 'em!
Saturday morning, I woke up at 6:30, drank a cup of coffee, put on my gardening clothes, and headed to the garden for my appointment with the green beans. I'd been working about an hour and a half when Nanny came out to help. We finished off the green beans, picked a "mess" of purple hull peas for Nanny's supper, and checked the other vegetables. The squash, cucumbers, and okra needed picking again, so I went to the shed to get a knife to cut the okra while Nanny started on the cucumbers.
Now, I haven't mentioned that Pop-Pop recently strung wire for an electric fence around the entire garden, except for one little gap near the tomato plants. No, I didn't get shocked, for he hasn't electrified it, yet. But the wire is waist-high - too high to step over, too low to bend under - and so right now the only convenient entrance into the garden is through that gap by the tomatoes. Coming back with the knife, striding full steam ahead, I took about two steps before sinking ankle deep into mud. I hollered, "Whoaaaaa!" and started windmilling my arms - reverse the engines, Captain! - to regain my balance. Hearing me holler, Nanny looked up and said that Pop-Pop had forgotten to turn off the soaker hose Thursday night. It had dripped all night long, deeply saturating the ground around the tomatoes. Friday's blistering sun had dried the top layer, making it look deceptively safe to walk on. When I tried to pull my feet out, the mud sucked off both of my plastic garden clogs. I stepped out of them and left 'em where they were until I finished cutting the okra, then I pried them out, hosed them off, and rode home with my bounty.
Back at home, I canned 7 quarts of green beans and 3 pints of pickled okra. The squash and zucchini went into the food dehydrator. Having fooled with various ways of preserving squash over the past few years, I've learned that we like it best dried. I sprinkle the squash slices with a seasoning blend and dry them until they're brittle. They make pretty good chips for dips, but my favorite thing to do with them is toss a handful of them into soups and pasta dishes. They re-hydrate fairly well, and they bring a little taste of summer to winter meals. I suppose they'd be ok stored in an air-tight jar, but I like to put them in bags and freeze them. A 5-tray dehydrating nets about a scant quart bag full of dried squash. Since they're dry when they go into the bags, they don't stick together, and I can just reach in, grab what I need, and put the rest back in the freezer.
With this canning, I think we have about all the green beans we need. Unfortunately, the green bean plants do not know this and will continue to make, especially if we get a shower or two along the way. Thus, if you live nearby and need some green beans, grab your pickin' bucket and come on over. I'll even help you pick them.
Note to my sister: another week and the eggplants will be ready. Come & get 'em!
Monday, July 18, 2011
Blight & Beans
I sprayed the tomatoes for blight and bugs this evening. Looking back through my previous posts, it looks like I haven't sprayed since the end of June. I should not have waited so long between applications, but we've had a few little showers these past few weeks, and it seems like one came up every time I decided to spray. And then we started the tiling project, and everything else sort of fell to the wayside.
Speaking of showers, The Husband finished the grouting yesterday. One of these days, we're going to seal it, put the fixtures back on, and try it out.
While the grouting was happening, I was canning the green beans I picked on Saturday morning. Ended up with 8 quarts - not a bad haul for the first picking.
Speaking of showers, The Husband finished the grouting yesterday. One of these days, we're going to seal it, put the fixtures back on, and try it out.
While the grouting was happening, I was canning the green beans I picked on Saturday morning. Ended up with 8 quarts - not a bad haul for the first picking.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Picking & Canning & Grouting (Tile Project - Day Who-The-Eff Cares)
Oh, the agony of de feet...and de hand...and de back....
Been fooling with fruit and vegetables today.
Netted 13 cute little half-pint jars of peach jam (laced with Jack Daniel's Tennessee Honey), and as many jars of blackberry jelly. The blackberry jelly might not set. Operator error. Technical malfunction.
Note to the unsuspecting: When you're using Sure-Jell fruit pectin, the Sure-Jell goes in at the beginning of the cooking process; you boil it, and the sugar goes in at the end. When you're using Certo, it's the other way around; the sugar goes in first, and the Certo goes in at the end. This reversal in procedure is not immediately obvious from casual glances at the instructions on both products.
I cannot yet vouch for what happens when you discover this after you've already added one pack of Certo to a double batch, then added the sugar, boiled it, then added the other pack of Certo at the end. Right now, it's looking like I might end up with blackberry syrup instead of jelly, but let's give it a couple of weeks before we call it.
Another note to the unsuspecting: just because your big pan holds a double batch of peach jam without boiling over doesn't mean it'll hold a double batch of blackberry jelly without boiling over.
I started and ended this day with green beans. Picked them this morning - almost a whole water-bath canner full. Took me two hours. When I put the last batch of jelly in the canner, I started working on the beans. It took me another two hours to wash and snap them. I would have liked to have canned them tonight, but that would take another hour, and I just ain't got it in me.
While I worked in the kitchen today, The Husband assumed responsibility for the grouting of the shower tile. We'd bought two bags of grout. About halfway through the job, he opened the second bag and while mixing it noticed that it seemed to be a slightly different color. He checked the labels, and, sure enough, we'd bought two different colors instead of two of the same color. It was about 5 p.m. when he made this discovery. It would take an hour to get more, and he'd be plumb out of the mood (read "plumb stove up") by the time he'd get back with it. We agreed that we should just STOP for the day, clean ourselves up, go get the grout, and take ourselves to dinner.
But I left the kitchen a mess. We set about cleaning it up when we got home. Pots and pans piled as high in the sink as they could pile. Sticky purple stuff everywhere from when the double batch of blackberry jelly boiled over. Wiped up all that mess, and turned around, and there sat the green beans. "No way," I said to them. "I'll deal with your butts tomorrow." I picked up the big old pan they were in and took it to the refrigerator...and, of course, the refrigerator was way too full to accommodate the pan, which meant we had to clean off a shelf, all the way to the fur-lined containers in the back.
The Husband is now in his recliner, washing down ibuprofen tablets with beer, icing down his carpal tunnel hand after his encounter with the grout float. Tomorrow night, after he grouts his way down to the floor, he'll probably need ice on his knees, too.
As for me, I'm going to bed, if I can walk the 14 steps it'll take to get there.
P.S. - The shower is looking good. Another month, and we'll have this thing licked. ;)
Been fooling with fruit and vegetables today.
Netted 13 cute little half-pint jars of peach jam (laced with Jack Daniel's Tennessee Honey), and as many jars of blackberry jelly. The blackberry jelly might not set. Operator error. Technical malfunction.
Note to the unsuspecting: When you're using Sure-Jell fruit pectin, the Sure-Jell goes in at the beginning of the cooking process; you boil it, and the sugar goes in at the end. When you're using Certo, it's the other way around; the sugar goes in first, and the Certo goes in at the end. This reversal in procedure is not immediately obvious from casual glances at the instructions on both products.
I cannot yet vouch for what happens when you discover this after you've already added one pack of Certo to a double batch, then added the sugar, boiled it, then added the other pack of Certo at the end. Right now, it's looking like I might end up with blackberry syrup instead of jelly, but let's give it a couple of weeks before we call it.
Another note to the unsuspecting: just because your big pan holds a double batch of peach jam without boiling over doesn't mean it'll hold a double batch of blackberry jelly without boiling over.
I started and ended this day with green beans. Picked them this morning - almost a whole water-bath canner full. Took me two hours. When I put the last batch of jelly in the canner, I started working on the beans. It took me another two hours to wash and snap them. I would have liked to have canned them tonight, but that would take another hour, and I just ain't got it in me.
While I worked in the kitchen today, The Husband assumed responsibility for the grouting of the shower tile. We'd bought two bags of grout. About halfway through the job, he opened the second bag and while mixing it noticed that it seemed to be a slightly different color. He checked the labels, and, sure enough, we'd bought two different colors instead of two of the same color. It was about 5 p.m. when he made this discovery. It would take an hour to get more, and he'd be plumb out of the mood (read "plumb stove up") by the time he'd get back with it. We agreed that we should just STOP for the day, clean ourselves up, go get the grout, and take ourselves to dinner.
But I left the kitchen a mess. We set about cleaning it up when we got home. Pots and pans piled as high in the sink as they could pile. Sticky purple stuff everywhere from when the double batch of blackberry jelly boiled over. Wiped up all that mess, and turned around, and there sat the green beans. "No way," I said to them. "I'll deal with your butts tomorrow." I picked up the big old pan they were in and took it to the refrigerator...and, of course, the refrigerator was way too full to accommodate the pan, which meant we had to clean off a shelf, all the way to the fur-lined containers in the back.
The Husband is now in his recliner, washing down ibuprofen tablets with beer, icing down his carpal tunnel hand after his encounter with the grout float. Tomorrow night, after he grouts his way down to the floor, he'll probably need ice on his knees, too.
As for me, I'm going to bed, if I can walk the 14 steps it'll take to get there.
P.S. - The shower is looking good. Another month, and we'll have this thing licked. ;)
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Titty Tomatoes
Yeah, "Titty."
As in breast, boob, hooter.
Here's what happened:
My son-of-another-mother and his sweet wife came to see me last Saturday evening, bearing a basket of peaches and a basket of tomatoes. He set them on the counter, and I pawed through them, squeezing and sniffing. When I got to the tomatoes, I picked one up and asked, "What kind of tomatoes are these?" Their skins were smoothe and red, and they were shaped like upside-down onion domes.
"Granddad calls them 'titty tomaters," he replied.
I could see the resemblance.
Because the peaches were very, very ripe, I dealt with them first. Sunday morning, I scalded, peeled, and chopped them. There was enough fruit for 2.5 batches of jam (per the fruit pectin box recipe). I cooked them in two batches. To the second batch, I stirred 1/4 cup of dark rum into the jam mixture before I put it in the jars. Boy, oh boy, was it ever good!
It was Monday before I got to the tomatoes. There was probably enough of them to make a few jars of salsa, but I had not yet had my fill of fresh sliced garden tomatoes on sandwiches, and I decided to eat them now rather than preserve them for later. Talk about a slice of heaven....
Last night, I chopped up two of the tomatoes and tossed them in a skillet with squash, zucchini, and onions that I'd already browned in olive oil. I added a couple of chopped basil leaves and let the mess simmer until the squash was soft, and then I tossed in a few kalamata olives, a handful or two of cooked, peeled shrimp from the freezer, and some cooked bowtie pasta. Finished it off with a squirt of left-over red wine (I would have preferred white wine) from the fridge, salt, pepper, a pat of butter, and a grating of parmesan cheese. Truthfully, it was not my best work, but it was quick and filling and tasted like summertime.
So, thanks, Granddad, for the titty tomatoes. I'll be sending a jar of jam your way, next time I see our boy.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Tiling the Shower (Days 7 - 11)
I bet you've been dying to hear what's been going on in the shower since Thursday.
The answer is, "Not much." Nothing, in fact.
By Friday of last week, I was plumb pooped. I got up that morning and went to the office for a while. Got home around 11:30 a.m., and was planning to finish up the few stray bits of tiling that remained to be done. I'd made a detour by the lumber company on the way home to buy a manual tile cutter, for the pieces that remained to be cut were little bitty things that I was afraid to cut with the wet saw. The tile-cutting thing did not come with any instructions, and I could not get the blasted thing to cut a tile without breaking it in the wrong spot. I was bone tired and short on patience, and I said, "Screw this," and went to read a book for the rest of the afternoon.
That evening, when we went for our regular Friday margarita night, we were sitting there, having the first sips of our frozen margaritas, when this lady came walking through the restaurant, wearing the big birthday sombrero, shaking a basket of tortilla chips, calling, "Chips! Salsa!" She passed by our table, then turned around, and behold! It was my friend, come all the way from Georgia for a surprise weekend visit! Though she said she brought her "grouting clothes," I spared her. Truth was, I was pooped, and did not want to start the grouting job. Her visit was a welcome excuse for a respite from the tile project.
But I am slowly preparing for the grout job. Went to a different tile store today and found some trim for the final spot that had me stumped. Bought a giant beater-thing that goes in the drill to mix up the grout. Maybe we can glue up the trim strips during the evenings this week, and start the grouting this weekend.
I've not done much in the garden in a week, except to peek under the squash, zucchini, and cucumber plants and inspect the tomatoes for worms. Everything is looking good. Nanny's already made a couple of batches of cucumber relish. The tomatoes are starting to ripen. Beans and peas are putting out runners and blooms. Okra is about ready to bloom.
And it's 100 degrees in the shade, here - way too hot to work in the garden except for early morning and dusk. A small measure of relief from the heat is in sight for the weekend, but there isn't much to do except wait on the veggies to grow.
The answer is, "Not much." Nothing, in fact.
By Friday of last week, I was plumb pooped. I got up that morning and went to the office for a while. Got home around 11:30 a.m., and was planning to finish up the few stray bits of tiling that remained to be done. I'd made a detour by the lumber company on the way home to buy a manual tile cutter, for the pieces that remained to be cut were little bitty things that I was afraid to cut with the wet saw. The tile-cutting thing did not come with any instructions, and I could not get the blasted thing to cut a tile without breaking it in the wrong spot. I was bone tired and short on patience, and I said, "Screw this," and went to read a book for the rest of the afternoon.
That evening, when we went for our regular Friday margarita night, we were sitting there, having the first sips of our frozen margaritas, when this lady came walking through the restaurant, wearing the big birthday sombrero, shaking a basket of tortilla chips, calling, "Chips! Salsa!" She passed by our table, then turned around, and behold! It was my friend, come all the way from Georgia for a surprise weekend visit! Though she said she brought her "grouting clothes," I spared her. Truth was, I was pooped, and did not want to start the grouting job. Her visit was a welcome excuse for a respite from the tile project.
But I am slowly preparing for the grout job. Went to a different tile store today and found some trim for the final spot that had me stumped. Bought a giant beater-thing that goes in the drill to mix up the grout. Maybe we can glue up the trim strips during the evenings this week, and start the grouting this weekend.
I've not done much in the garden in a week, except to peek under the squash, zucchini, and cucumber plants and inspect the tomatoes for worms. Everything is looking good. Nanny's already made a couple of batches of cucumber relish. The tomatoes are starting to ripen. Beans and peas are putting out runners and blooms. Okra is about ready to bloom.
And it's 100 degrees in the shade, here - way too hot to work in the garden except for early morning and dusk. A small measure of relief from the heat is in sight for the weekend, but there isn't much to do except wait on the veggies to grow.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Tiling the Shower (Day 6)
I should've paid that guy to tile the shower. Now that I've done this, I see why folks charge so much to do it.
Yesterday morning, all that remained to be tiled was the doorway, the floor, and the step-over. Tiling the doorway would require a lot of sawing, as it was all narrow spaces. The floor I expected to be a piece of cake, since the tiles are on mesh sheets. Because I had some errands to run, it was 11:30 before I could get started. It was nearly 11 p.m. when I quit, and there's still a little more to do before we can grout.
Before leaving to run the errands, I had stood in front of the shower, inspecting my work with a fresh, critical eye. There was another spot that bothered me, a foot above the floor in the front corner. The wall wasn't *quite* straight in that spot, and we'd had to cut the tiles progressively wider as we moved up the wall. The lower three tiles in that corner, the first ones we'd cut, were too narrow. Since I had not yet tiled the doorway, there was nothing to disturb to the left of the tiles, and I could get a pry-tool in there, using the doorway for leverage. I made up my mind to try to pop those three tiles out and replace them with wider ones before I started anything else.
This proved easier than I expected (which kind of makes me worry about the strength of this adhesive). I pried off the three tiles, replaced them with tiles that were 1/4" wider, and felt much better. It was so easy that I turned around and eyed that spot on the opposite wall, the one I said will probably annoy me for the rest of my life, thinking I might just...nah, better not.
Now, onto the rest.
Our shower is in a corner, not angled across it, but squared-up in it. To the left of the doorway is a 7"-thick wall that separates the shower from the vanity. I'd decided to tile the face of this narrow wall in the same design as the shower, itself - square tiles from the floor up to a border, then diagonal tiles from the border to the ceiling. We are using 6" tiles (they are actually 5.75", or thereabout). This meant that the 7" wall would only hold one row of tiles, with a little over 1/2" to spare on either side. At the tile store, we'd looked for trim pieces - we wanted narrow L-shaped things to put on the corners of this wall - but they didn't have any that matched our tile. We had left the store without trim, thinking we'd cross that bridge when we got to it. Well, I was to that bridge, and there was nothing to do but make my own trim. All I could think to do was cut 1/4" wide strips to border the tiles.
Let me tell you, cutting a 1/4"-wide strip of tile is a pain in the butt. First, a strip that small will snap in two halfway through the cutting process if you're not careful (and even if you are). And if you do manage to cut a strip without breaking it, there's still the problem of a raw, slightly-jagged edge that must be ground smoothe. Working with pieces that small, that close to a running saw blade, is a nerve-wrecker. Before I'd cut too many of those strips, I was wishing for a gin & tonic to relax my shoulders, but was scared to have one, for fear of relaxing enough to lose a finger to the saw. It took a long time, but I cut those narrow strips - nearly 30 of those m*th*rf*ck*rs, not counting the ones that broke in the saw - and glued them end-to-end up both sides of the tiles, leaving a space for grout. It doesn't look too bad, but I'm scared one of those strips is going to fall off the first time somebody bumps the wall. We'll see.
The floor was fairly easy. The Husband took over this part of the job. Since the tiles are so small, they contoured themselves nicely over the slope around the drain. Since they are on a mesh strip, spacing them was not a problem. Best of all, we didn't need the saw to cut the rows apart. I'd envisioned tiling the step-over with the same 6" tile we put on the walls, but when we discovered that we'd have to crank the saw back up to do this, we opted to use the tile mesh, instead, no cutting required. It looks good.
Incredibly - how long have we been at this now? - there's still a little stripping and cutting to do today, to finish places we were just too tired to tackle last night, like places where 1" tiles will have to be halved to fit into the space, and one place where I still haven't come up with an idea for finishing the edge. Those places will need to dry overnight before we can start grouting, and then the grout will need to dry for a couple of days before we can seal it, and then the sealant needs to dry a couple of days before we can use the shower. We might be showering by next Saturday, two weeks from when we started.
Yeah, I can see why they charge so much to do this.
Yesterday morning, all that remained to be tiled was the doorway, the floor, and the step-over. Tiling the doorway would require a lot of sawing, as it was all narrow spaces. The floor I expected to be a piece of cake, since the tiles are on mesh sheets. Because I had some errands to run, it was 11:30 before I could get started. It was nearly 11 p.m. when I quit, and there's still a little more to do before we can grout.
Before leaving to run the errands, I had stood in front of the shower, inspecting my work with a fresh, critical eye. There was another spot that bothered me, a foot above the floor in the front corner. The wall wasn't *quite* straight in that spot, and we'd had to cut the tiles progressively wider as we moved up the wall. The lower three tiles in that corner, the first ones we'd cut, were too narrow. Since I had not yet tiled the doorway, there was nothing to disturb to the left of the tiles, and I could get a pry-tool in there, using the doorway for leverage. I made up my mind to try to pop those three tiles out and replace them with wider ones before I started anything else.
This proved easier than I expected (which kind of makes me worry about the strength of this adhesive). I pried off the three tiles, replaced them with tiles that were 1/4" wider, and felt much better. It was so easy that I turned around and eyed that spot on the opposite wall, the one I said will probably annoy me for the rest of my life, thinking I might just...nah, better not.
Now, onto the rest.
Our shower is in a corner, not angled across it, but squared-up in it. To the left of the doorway is a 7"-thick wall that separates the shower from the vanity. I'd decided to tile the face of this narrow wall in the same design as the shower, itself - square tiles from the floor up to a border, then diagonal tiles from the border to the ceiling. We are using 6" tiles (they are actually 5.75", or thereabout). This meant that the 7" wall would only hold one row of tiles, with a little over 1/2" to spare on either side. At the tile store, we'd looked for trim pieces - we wanted narrow L-shaped things to put on the corners of this wall - but they didn't have any that matched our tile. We had left the store without trim, thinking we'd cross that bridge when we got to it. Well, I was to that bridge, and there was nothing to do but make my own trim. All I could think to do was cut 1/4" wide strips to border the tiles.
Let me tell you, cutting a 1/4"-wide strip of tile is a pain in the butt. First, a strip that small will snap in two halfway through the cutting process if you're not careful (and even if you are). And if you do manage to cut a strip without breaking it, there's still the problem of a raw, slightly-jagged edge that must be ground smoothe. Working with pieces that small, that close to a running saw blade, is a nerve-wrecker. Before I'd cut too many of those strips, I was wishing for a gin & tonic to relax my shoulders, but was scared to have one, for fear of relaxing enough to lose a finger to the saw. It took a long time, but I cut those narrow strips - nearly 30 of those m*th*rf*ck*rs, not counting the ones that broke in the saw - and glued them end-to-end up both sides of the tiles, leaving a space for grout. It doesn't look too bad, but I'm scared one of those strips is going to fall off the first time somebody bumps the wall. We'll see.
The floor was fairly easy. The Husband took over this part of the job. Since the tiles are so small, they contoured themselves nicely over the slope around the drain. Since they are on a mesh strip, spacing them was not a problem. Best of all, we didn't need the saw to cut the rows apart. I'd envisioned tiling the step-over with the same 6" tile we put on the walls, but when we discovered that we'd have to crank the saw back up to do this, we opted to use the tile mesh, instead, no cutting required. It looks good.
Incredibly - how long have we been at this now? - there's still a little stripping and cutting to do today, to finish places we were just too tired to tackle last night, like places where 1" tiles will have to be halved to fit into the space, and one place where I still haven't come up with an idea for finishing the edge. Those places will need to dry overnight before we can start grouting, and then the grout will need to dry for a couple of days before we can seal it, and then the sealant needs to dry a couple of days before we can use the shower. We might be showering by next Saturday, two weeks from when we started.
Yeah, I can see why they charge so much to do this.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Tiling the Shower (Days 4 and 5)
Absolutely nothing happened in the shower on Day 4, as the tile-setter was whipped and opted to employ Scarlett O'Hara's mantra, "Tomorrow is another day."
Day 5, however, was a different story. As soon as The Husband left for work, I got busy. By the time he came home from work, I was almost finished setting the tiles on the walls. I'd been climbing in an out of a chair all day. My gimpy knee was the size of a cantaloupe, my back was aching, and my stomach was growling from hunger. My face and hair were freckled with tile-saw spit. He took pity on me and pitched in to saw the final triangles for the gaps at the ceiling, and then he sent me for a much-needed shower (in another bathroom, of course) while he cleaned tools and vaccuumed debris. Bless him.
There's still a little more to do, but, overall, I'm pretty satisfied with the job we've done so far. There is one spot on one wall that doesn't suit me, a place where a tile slipped after I pinched a rubber spacer from beneath it when I was tiling on the opposite wall. The slippage created a "kink" in the diagonal grout line that, though probably not noticeable to a casual observer, will likely annoy me for the rest of my life, but I have a feeling that trying to correct it at this point might stir up a whole mess of trouble.
What remains to be tiled is a strip at the edge of the doorway, the step-over, and the floor. We also have to figure out how to deal with a couple of raw edges - places where tile meets sheetrock - as nothing we saw at the tile store seemed right for the job. I'll finish the doorway and the step-over today. I think I could finish the floor, too, but I am contemplating waiting to lay the floor tiles until we've grouted the walls. The tile we chose for the floor is 1" square tiles affixed to a 12" x 12" sheet of mesh. It should be easy to lay, but I am worried that walking on it, and especially setting a chair or step-ladder on it, while grouting the walls might dislodge, chip, or crack the tiny pieces. As for the edge-finishing part...well, tomorrow is another day.
Day 5, however, was a different story. As soon as The Husband left for work, I got busy. By the time he came home from work, I was almost finished setting the tiles on the walls. I'd been climbing in an out of a chair all day. My gimpy knee was the size of a cantaloupe, my back was aching, and my stomach was growling from hunger. My face and hair were freckled with tile-saw spit. He took pity on me and pitched in to saw the final triangles for the gaps at the ceiling, and then he sent me for a much-needed shower (in another bathroom, of course) while he cleaned tools and vaccuumed debris. Bless him.
There's still a little more to do, but, overall, I'm pretty satisfied with the job we've done so far. There is one spot on one wall that doesn't suit me, a place where a tile slipped after I pinched a rubber spacer from beneath it when I was tiling on the opposite wall. The slippage created a "kink" in the diagonal grout line that, though probably not noticeable to a casual observer, will likely annoy me for the rest of my life, but I have a feeling that trying to correct it at this point might stir up a whole mess of trouble.
What remains to be tiled is a strip at the edge of the doorway, the step-over, and the floor. We also have to figure out how to deal with a couple of raw edges - places where tile meets sheetrock - as nothing we saw at the tile store seemed right for the job. I'll finish the doorway and the step-over today. I think I could finish the floor, too, but I am contemplating waiting to lay the floor tiles until we've grouted the walls. The tile we chose for the floor is 1" square tiles affixed to a 12" x 12" sheet of mesh. It should be easy to lay, but I am worried that walking on it, and especially setting a chair or step-ladder on it, while grouting the walls might dislodge, chip, or crack the tiny pieces. As for the edge-finishing part...well, tomorrow is another day.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Tiling the Shower (Day 3)
Day 3 of the tiling project, and it's the 4th of July, the last day of our 3-day weekend. We'd hoped to finish the tiling today, but we'd been invited to two cookouts, one at noon, and one at 2, and were supposed to cook food to take to each meal. With only a couple of hours to work, we dived in.
Last night, I'd tiled the "plumbing wall" up to the point where we'd have to cut tiles to go around the water control knob. When I went into the bathroom to resume the work, The Husband was already standing in the shower, inspecting the hole we'd cut for the control knob. He had a frustrated look on his face. "I think we've covered up one of our screw holes," he said, pointing to the plumbing. ("Screw holes." You learn techical terms like this when you become a do-it-yourselfer.) We got the flashlight and looked, and, sure enough, we'd goofed. The brass plate that covers up the ugly plumbing business has two holes in it where two screws should go to hold it in place. Behind the wall was a metal bracket with two holes to accomodate the screws. We could only see one of them. We'd have to make the hole bigger.
I groaned, remembering how hard it had been to cut the backer board. The hole didn't need enlarging by much, but cutting off a little bit of that stuff is harder than cutting off a lot. What in the world were we going to use to do it? We couldn't use the jigsaw or the Craftsman cutter; there were pipes nearby, and we wouldn't risk drilling into them. The job would take forever using a utility knife. Our minds raced to think of some tool in this house that might saw, or gnaw, or file a half inch off the hole. I went to the utility room to dig around in the toolbox and the cabinet, looking for a saw we once had, but couldn't find it. I went back to the bathroom. "Remember that bad-ass little hand saw we used when we cut that metal threshhold?" I asked to The Husband. Its blade was rectangular and edged with viscious teeth. "It might be too wide to fit in the hole, but...." The Husband said he thought we could replace the original blade with the jigsaw blade. He disappeared for a moment, then returned with said saw, jigsaw blade in place. It took him less than a minute to hack away enough board to uncover the hole. We were back in business. I started smearing adhesive while he went to cut some tiles to fit around the knob.
For a few minutes, we were like a well-oiled machine, pasting and cutting and slapping those tiles on the wall. In no time, we reached the point where we'd decided to insert a decorative tile border. This stuff is cool. It's a mesh strip on which small tiles have been glued in a pretty pattern. It's all tiny squares and diamonds and triangles. You just glue the strip to the wall as a unit. We'd bought an extra strip to use for parts, knowing that the odds were against being able to use only whole strips, and we'd been right. Before the border was completely in place, we'd peeled off a good number of tiles to fill in the design in the corners and at the edges. Thank goodness we'd picked up a tool to score and nip tile, for we did have to trim a few of those tiny pieces.
Above the border, we'd planned to set the tiles diagonally (a quilter would call this setting them "on point"). This meant cutting tiles in half to place along the top edge of the border and at the ceiling. But, hey, we have a wet saw, right? How hard could this be?
Well, it's hard. Kind of. First, using the wet saw can be kind of a pain. The tile wants to chip as the sawblade nears the end of a cut, and that leaves a little notch on the corner of the triangles. (We found that if we hold the tile really tight, and keep an even pressure while pushing the tile across the blade, it doesn't chip as much.) Then there's the problem of the way a diagonal messes with the mind. After hours of looking at the tiles set square, I had to learn to re-see the pattern. We had trouble remembering which side of a triangle needed shaving once we moved it to the saw. Plus, I was now working directly at eye level and could plainly see every little imperfection in angle and distance. We didn't get many of those diagonal tiles laid before it was time to make ready for the cookouts.
7:30 p.m. - Having been outside in the heat all afternoon, and having stuffed ourselves with food, the last thing either of us wanted to do was to come home and commence tiling. At 9:30, it was lights out for us. The shower can wait.
Last night, I'd tiled the "plumbing wall" up to the point where we'd have to cut tiles to go around the water control knob. When I went into the bathroom to resume the work, The Husband was already standing in the shower, inspecting the hole we'd cut for the control knob. He had a frustrated look on his face. "I think we've covered up one of our screw holes," he said, pointing to the plumbing. ("Screw holes." You learn techical terms like this when you become a do-it-yourselfer.) We got the flashlight and looked, and, sure enough, we'd goofed. The brass plate that covers up the ugly plumbing business has two holes in it where two screws should go to hold it in place. Behind the wall was a metal bracket with two holes to accomodate the screws. We could only see one of them. We'd have to make the hole bigger.
I groaned, remembering how hard it had been to cut the backer board. The hole didn't need enlarging by much, but cutting off a little bit of that stuff is harder than cutting off a lot. What in the world were we going to use to do it? We couldn't use the jigsaw or the Craftsman cutter; there were pipes nearby, and we wouldn't risk drilling into them. The job would take forever using a utility knife. Our minds raced to think of some tool in this house that might saw, or gnaw, or file a half inch off the hole. I went to the utility room to dig around in the toolbox and the cabinet, looking for a saw we once had, but couldn't find it. I went back to the bathroom. "Remember that bad-ass little hand saw we used when we cut that metal threshhold?" I asked to The Husband. Its blade was rectangular and edged with viscious teeth. "It might be too wide to fit in the hole, but...." The Husband said he thought we could replace the original blade with the jigsaw blade. He disappeared for a moment, then returned with said saw, jigsaw blade in place. It took him less than a minute to hack away enough board to uncover the hole. We were back in business. I started smearing adhesive while he went to cut some tiles to fit around the knob.
For a few minutes, we were like a well-oiled machine, pasting and cutting and slapping those tiles on the wall. In no time, we reached the point where we'd decided to insert a decorative tile border. This stuff is cool. It's a mesh strip on which small tiles have been glued in a pretty pattern. It's all tiny squares and diamonds and triangles. You just glue the strip to the wall as a unit. We'd bought an extra strip to use for parts, knowing that the odds were against being able to use only whole strips, and we'd been right. Before the border was completely in place, we'd peeled off a good number of tiles to fill in the design in the corners and at the edges. Thank goodness we'd picked up a tool to score and nip tile, for we did have to trim a few of those tiny pieces.
Above the border, we'd planned to set the tiles diagonally (a quilter would call this setting them "on point"). This meant cutting tiles in half to place along the top edge of the border and at the ceiling. But, hey, we have a wet saw, right? How hard could this be?
Well, it's hard. Kind of. First, using the wet saw can be kind of a pain. The tile wants to chip as the sawblade nears the end of a cut, and that leaves a little notch on the corner of the triangles. (We found that if we hold the tile really tight, and keep an even pressure while pushing the tile across the blade, it doesn't chip as much.) Then there's the problem of the way a diagonal messes with the mind. After hours of looking at the tiles set square, I had to learn to re-see the pattern. We had trouble remembering which side of a triangle needed shaving once we moved it to the saw. Plus, I was now working directly at eye level and could plainly see every little imperfection in angle and distance. We didn't get many of those diagonal tiles laid before it was time to make ready for the cookouts.
7:30 p.m. - Having been outside in the heat all afternoon, and having stuffed ourselves with food, the last thing either of us wanted to do was to come home and commence tiling. At 9:30, it was lights out for us. The shower can wait.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Tiling the Shower (Day 2)
Work on the tiling project resumed just after breakfast this morning. The plan was to quickly cut and install 3 more strips of cement board to cover the step-over, do a little caulking, mud the seams, and start tiling.
The strip-cutting didn't move so quickly. Our last good masonry blade broke just as we started the final cut of the 3rd strip. "We still have the two cheap-o blades that came with the saw," I told The Husband. He said we might as well try them. Whereas the "good" masonry blades had gnawed through the cement board at an agonizlingly slow pace, those cheap-o blades sliced through it like a hot knife through butter. Who knew??? If we'd broken all of the good blades sooner, we'd have finished the sawing in half the time. With the cement board in place, it was time to start tiling.
One of the videos that we had watched had recommended nailing a straight-edged board one tile width (plus an extra 1/4" for grout) from the floor, tiling upward from that point, using the straight-edge as a baseline, and then going back to install the bottom row later. The reason for this is that the mortar bed might not be perfectly level, and if we'd started laying the tile along an unlevel floor, the whole thing would've been crooked. We used a level to draw a straight, level line, and then we nailed yardsticks along the line. The first row of tiles would nudge against the yardsticks. Rubber spacers would keep the vertical spacing even for that first row, and they would keep both the horizontal and vertical spacing even for the following rows. When we go back to install the bottom row, we'll use the spacers to maintain even spacing above them, and fill in any un-level areas below them with grout, after we lay the floor tiles.
We'd just finished nailing the yardsticks in place when some friends dropped by for a visit. We spent a couple of hours talking to them, but hurried back to work as soon as they left.
Smearing that first blob of adhesive on the wall and setting that first tile is the scariest part. We stood there for a moment, staring at the blank wall, dreading that leap. Finally I said, "Gimme that trowel," and went to smearing adhesive. With the first tile in hand, the question became, should we start in the middle of the back wall and work outwards in both directions, or should we start in a corner and work across? I expect the answer to this question might differ from one project to the next, depending on the size and location of the space, and the angle from which the space will most often be seen. We decided to start in the right-hand corner because it is the corner that is most visible. Working from right to left required us to cut a narrow strip of tile to fill in the left-hand corner, but, when the project is finished, one will have to be in the shower to notice the narrow strip. If we'd started in the center and worked out in both directions, it would have been necessary for us to cut narrow strips for both corners, and they would have been very visible from outside the shower stall.
As I was set the tile, The Husband worked the wet saw, cutting the strips for the corners. I laid about three rows of tile, then stood up to stretch and drink some water. The Husband offered to take over the tiling while I took a break. I shoved a few more boxes of tile within his reach, opened another bag of rubber spacers, and left him tiling while I went for a glass of water. A few minutes later, he came out, throwing up his hands in frustration. Something was amiss, it seemed. I quietly went into the bathroom to see what the problem was.
The spacing was off. I checked to see if all of his tiles were snugged up against the rubber spacers. They were. I peeled off a few tiles and jacked around with the spacing, lining up the edges of the tiles as best I could, but something was still wrong. The tiles weren't level anymore, and the spaces weren't even. It was then that I noticed that some of the rubber spacers were smaller than others. At the tile store, we'd grabbed two bags of spacers from the same hook, but one bag contained 1/4" spacers, and the other contained 3/16" spacers. He'd randomly used some of the 3/16" spacers, and that measly 16th of an inch difference skewed the pattern. Once we figured out the problem, we ditched the smaller spacers, re-set the tiles using the 1/4" spacers, and moved on.
We're using 6" tiles on the walls, so the work moved pretty fast when we worked out the glitches. In the four hours that we worked at the tiling, we managed to do a little less than half of the shower. Though The Husband finds this part of the work to be tedious and nerve-wracking, I find it kind of relaxing. (My quilting hobby might account for this difference; I am used to working with small squares and 1/4" seams; it's a lot like tiling, minus the adhesive.) I expect he will be more than happy to turn me loose with the trowel tomorrow when we get back to work.
The strip-cutting didn't move so quickly. Our last good masonry blade broke just as we started the final cut of the 3rd strip. "We still have the two cheap-o blades that came with the saw," I told The Husband. He said we might as well try them. Whereas the "good" masonry blades had gnawed through the cement board at an agonizlingly slow pace, those cheap-o blades sliced through it like a hot knife through butter. Who knew??? If we'd broken all of the good blades sooner, we'd have finished the sawing in half the time. With the cement board in place, it was time to start tiling.
One of the videos that we had watched had recommended nailing a straight-edged board one tile width (plus an extra 1/4" for grout) from the floor, tiling upward from that point, using the straight-edge as a baseline, and then going back to install the bottom row later. The reason for this is that the mortar bed might not be perfectly level, and if we'd started laying the tile along an unlevel floor, the whole thing would've been crooked. We used a level to draw a straight, level line, and then we nailed yardsticks along the line. The first row of tiles would nudge against the yardsticks. Rubber spacers would keep the vertical spacing even for that first row, and they would keep both the horizontal and vertical spacing even for the following rows. When we go back to install the bottom row, we'll use the spacers to maintain even spacing above them, and fill in any un-level areas below them with grout, after we lay the floor tiles.
We'd just finished nailing the yardsticks in place when some friends dropped by for a visit. We spent a couple of hours talking to them, but hurried back to work as soon as they left.
Smearing that first blob of adhesive on the wall and setting that first tile is the scariest part. We stood there for a moment, staring at the blank wall, dreading that leap. Finally I said, "Gimme that trowel," and went to smearing adhesive. With the first tile in hand, the question became, should we start in the middle of the back wall and work outwards in both directions, or should we start in a corner and work across? I expect the answer to this question might differ from one project to the next, depending on the size and location of the space, and the angle from which the space will most often be seen. We decided to start in the right-hand corner because it is the corner that is most visible. Working from right to left required us to cut a narrow strip of tile to fill in the left-hand corner, but, when the project is finished, one will have to be in the shower to notice the narrow strip. If we'd started in the center and worked out in both directions, it would have been necessary for us to cut narrow strips for both corners, and they would have been very visible from outside the shower stall.
As I was set the tile, The Husband worked the wet saw, cutting the strips for the corners. I laid about three rows of tile, then stood up to stretch and drink some water. The Husband offered to take over the tiling while I took a break. I shoved a few more boxes of tile within his reach, opened another bag of rubber spacers, and left him tiling while I went for a glass of water. A few minutes later, he came out, throwing up his hands in frustration. Something was amiss, it seemed. I quietly went into the bathroom to see what the problem was.
The spacing was off. I checked to see if all of his tiles were snugged up against the rubber spacers. They were. I peeled off a few tiles and jacked around with the spacing, lining up the edges of the tiles as best I could, but something was still wrong. The tiles weren't level anymore, and the spaces weren't even. It was then that I noticed that some of the rubber spacers were smaller than others. At the tile store, we'd grabbed two bags of spacers from the same hook, but one bag contained 1/4" spacers, and the other contained 3/16" spacers. He'd randomly used some of the 3/16" spacers, and that measly 16th of an inch difference skewed the pattern. Once we figured out the problem, we ditched the smaller spacers, re-set the tiles using the 1/4" spacers, and moved on.
We're using 6" tiles on the walls, so the work moved pretty fast when we worked out the glitches. In the four hours that we worked at the tiling, we managed to do a little less than half of the shower. Though The Husband finds this part of the work to be tedious and nerve-wracking, I find it kind of relaxing. (My quilting hobby might account for this difference; I am used to working with small squares and 1/4" seams; it's a lot like tiling, minus the adhesive.) I expect he will be more than happy to turn me loose with the trowel tomorrow when we get back to work.
Tiling the Shower (Day 1)
When we bought our tile a week ago, I imagined that we would start working on the shower right away, finishing it in the evenings, a little at a time. As it turned out, the week was crazy with meetings and working late, and we opted to wait until the weekend, when we would have 3 days of uninterrupted work time.
It was 11 a.m. yesterday (Saturday) when we started. The weather man had predicted the temperature to reach nearly 100 degrees, so we set up the outdoor part of our work station first by situating the patio umbrella to knock the sun off of us, and directing a large box fan toward the table where we'd be doing the cutting.
Step 1: hang the 5' x 3' tile backer board, which would have to be cut to fit the small shower cubicle. We'd watched internet videos on how to do this. Piece of cake, they'd said. Just mark a line with a pencil, score the line with a utility knife, and snap the board in two along the cut, they'd said. We dragged the first piece of 5' x 3' backer board onto the table, marked it, and scored it. It did not just snap in two, like the video guys said it would. The problem was that we were cutting only a 1" strip off the long side of the board; there wasn't enough room to grasp it or put weight behind it for a clean break. We scored and scored and scored. We flipped the board over and scored some more. Finally, after about 45 minutes, we managed to break off the 1" strip, one ragged little piece at a time. Our backer board was dotted with big drops of our sweat.
"This scoring-and-snapping technique ain't gonna work," I said to The Husband as we raised up, our backs aching from having bent over the table for so long. "We need power tools."
Years ago at Christmas, my mother gave the family men-folk a Craftsman All-in-One cutting tool. We had never used the one she'd given to The Husband, but just last week, my nephew had commented that it was "the stuff." I fished it out of the utility room. We inserted a cutting bit, took it outside, plugged it up, and tried it. The cutting bit finally punched through the cement board, but it would not then proceed along the line we'd drawn. We switched bits. Same deal. "We need a cutting bit for masonry," The Husband said. I said I'd run to the hardware store to get one.
On the way to the store, I remembered how the video guys had cut the holes for their pipes. They'd drawn squares instead of circles. They'd drilled holes at each corner of the square and used a jigsaw to cut the lines between the holes. We'd already looked for our jigsaw but had not found it. I'd buy one at the hardware store, along with some masonry blades and, for good measure, a masonry cutting bit for the Craftsman tool.
The hardware store did not have a masonry cutting bit, but they did hook me up with a jigsaw and three masonry blades. I brought them home, and we went back to work. We cheered when we brought the first piece of board inside and discovered that the holes we'd cut actually fit over the plumbing pipes. I held the board in place while The Husband nailed it. He'd not finished nailing the top of the board when he bashed his thumb with the hammer. I sent him to put a Band-Aid on his bleeding thumb while I finished nailing that piece. We went back outside to cut another board.
The first jigsaw blade broke as we were cutting the second board. We inserted a new blade and kept working. The cutting went painfully slow. Since we were cutting such small strips from the edges of the boards, the vibration was terrible. Our marked lines were a blur, and we'd have to stop every inch or two to make sure we were actually cutting on the lines. The air under the umbrella was thick with cement dust, and we nearly suffocated inside our masks despite the breeze from the box fan. Sweat poured. A horsefly bit me on the neck, sending waves of pain-chills down my arm. Our noses were full of cement dust boogers.
Whose idea was this, anyway? When I voiced this thought aloud, The Husband cut me the "I am going to kill you" look.
We kept sawing and hammering. Broke another saw blade. Hammered the thumb and made it bleed again. Realized that if we'd hung the board on the back wall sideways instead of lengthwise, we wouldn't have to cut skinny strips to fill in. Decided to take that board down.
5:30 p.m. - "I'm going to take a short break and stir up the banana pudding," I said to The Husband as he was removing the ill-fitting board. His sister had invited us to a cookout and pool party at her house, just down the road. We were supposed to be there around 7, and I was to bring dessert.
6 p.m. - Back to work. We had to cut two more boards to finish the back wall, and then we'd be done, or so we thought.
7:30 p.m. - I gave a little squeal of triumph as we hung the last sheet: "Yay! We're done! Let's get cleaned up and go eat!" The Husband turned around to come out of the shower stall, and then he gave a little groan. We had not yet covered the "step-over" (the little ledge at the front of the shower) with backer board. That would take three more strips. Skinny strips. Pain-in-the-*ss strips. At the rate we'd been going, it'd take us another two hours to do that part.
"Tomorrow," we said in unison.
I headed for the shower in another bathroom. When the water hit my cement-dust-soaked hair and skin, I was momentarily afraid of being turned into a concrete statue. "Do yourself a favor," I told The Husband when I got out of the shower, "and shake some of the cement dust out of your hair before you wet it."
Thank goodness someone else was in charge of cooking supper.
Today, we'll saw and install the remaining strips, seal the seams, and, hopefully, begin tiling. I would not dare to venture a guess as to how long it'll take us to finish.
Come look for us if you don't hear from me soon. Since today's work will involve some bad-ass adhesive and small spaces, you'll probably find one or both of us stuck to a wall in the shower.
It was 11 a.m. yesterday (Saturday) when we started. The weather man had predicted the temperature to reach nearly 100 degrees, so we set up the outdoor part of our work station first by situating the patio umbrella to knock the sun off of us, and directing a large box fan toward the table where we'd be doing the cutting.
Step 1: hang the 5' x 3' tile backer board, which would have to be cut to fit the small shower cubicle. We'd watched internet videos on how to do this. Piece of cake, they'd said. Just mark a line with a pencil, score the line with a utility knife, and snap the board in two along the cut, they'd said. We dragged the first piece of 5' x 3' backer board onto the table, marked it, and scored it. It did not just snap in two, like the video guys said it would. The problem was that we were cutting only a 1" strip off the long side of the board; there wasn't enough room to grasp it or put weight behind it for a clean break. We scored and scored and scored. We flipped the board over and scored some more. Finally, after about 45 minutes, we managed to break off the 1" strip, one ragged little piece at a time. Our backer board was dotted with big drops of our sweat.
"This scoring-and-snapping technique ain't gonna work," I said to The Husband as we raised up, our backs aching from having bent over the table for so long. "We need power tools."
Years ago at Christmas, my mother gave the family men-folk a Craftsman All-in-One cutting tool. We had never used the one she'd given to The Husband, but just last week, my nephew had commented that it was "the stuff." I fished it out of the utility room. We inserted a cutting bit, took it outside, plugged it up, and tried it. The cutting bit finally punched through the cement board, but it would not then proceed along the line we'd drawn. We switched bits. Same deal. "We need a cutting bit for masonry," The Husband said. I said I'd run to the hardware store to get one.
On the way to the store, I remembered how the video guys had cut the holes for their pipes. They'd drawn squares instead of circles. They'd drilled holes at each corner of the square and used a jigsaw to cut the lines between the holes. We'd already looked for our jigsaw but had not found it. I'd buy one at the hardware store, along with some masonry blades and, for good measure, a masonry cutting bit for the Craftsman tool.
The hardware store did not have a masonry cutting bit, but they did hook me up with a jigsaw and three masonry blades. I brought them home, and we went back to work. We cheered when we brought the first piece of board inside and discovered that the holes we'd cut actually fit over the plumbing pipes. I held the board in place while The Husband nailed it. He'd not finished nailing the top of the board when he bashed his thumb with the hammer. I sent him to put a Band-Aid on his bleeding thumb while I finished nailing that piece. We went back outside to cut another board.
The first jigsaw blade broke as we were cutting the second board. We inserted a new blade and kept working. The cutting went painfully slow. Since we were cutting such small strips from the edges of the boards, the vibration was terrible. Our marked lines were a blur, and we'd have to stop every inch or two to make sure we were actually cutting on the lines. The air under the umbrella was thick with cement dust, and we nearly suffocated inside our masks despite the breeze from the box fan. Sweat poured. A horsefly bit me on the neck, sending waves of pain-chills down my arm. Our noses were full of cement dust boogers.
Whose idea was this, anyway? When I voiced this thought aloud, The Husband cut me the "I am going to kill you" look.
We kept sawing and hammering. Broke another saw blade. Hammered the thumb and made it bleed again. Realized that if we'd hung the board on the back wall sideways instead of lengthwise, we wouldn't have to cut skinny strips to fill in. Decided to take that board down.
5:30 p.m. - "I'm going to take a short break and stir up the banana pudding," I said to The Husband as he was removing the ill-fitting board. His sister had invited us to a cookout and pool party at her house, just down the road. We were supposed to be there around 7, and I was to bring dessert.
6 p.m. - Back to work. We had to cut two more boards to finish the back wall, and then we'd be done, or so we thought.
7:30 p.m. - I gave a little squeal of triumph as we hung the last sheet: "Yay! We're done! Let's get cleaned up and go eat!" The Husband turned around to come out of the shower stall, and then he gave a little groan. We had not yet covered the "step-over" (the little ledge at the front of the shower) with backer board. That would take three more strips. Skinny strips. Pain-in-the-*ss strips. At the rate we'd been going, it'd take us another two hours to do that part.
"Tomorrow," we said in unison.
I headed for the shower in another bathroom. When the water hit my cement-dust-soaked hair and skin, I was momentarily afraid of being turned into a concrete statue. "Do yourself a favor," I told The Husband when I got out of the shower, "and shake some of the cement dust out of your hair before you wet it."
Thank goodness someone else was in charge of cooking supper.
Today, we'll saw and install the remaining strips, seal the seams, and, hopefully, begin tiling. I would not dare to venture a guess as to how long it'll take us to finish.
Come look for us if you don't hear from me soon. Since today's work will involve some bad-ass adhesive and small spaces, you'll probably find one or both of us stuck to a wall in the shower.
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