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 By Ariane Wiltse
Every now and then, a story in the local press forces me to reevaluate my decision to move back to New Orleans and buy a house in the Lower 9th Ward. Sometimes the story that jolts me from my idyllic rebuilding spirit focuses on leaks in levees and the recycled newspaper found to be stuffed inside of them. Other times it’s stories about the condition of the swamps to the south and west of the city, stories that describe how the land out there is literally falling into open water, and in doing so is allowing the Gulf of Mexico to creep closer and closer to our fragile city.
But today, I’m not fretting over the potential environmental disaster lurking behind the next hurricane. Today, it’s the city’s rampant violence that makes me question my decision not only to move back here after the storm but to sprout roots.
One recent morning, around 2 a.m., a man in my neighborhood was found dead in his home. He had been shot in the head. The man lived a few blocks away from the house I’m restoring, the trailer I’m living in and me.
Although the police have released the barest of details, it appears that the man was murdered in either a drug deal gone wrong or for some retaliatory reason. Typical tit-for-tat street justice meets the cheapness of human life.
My neighbor is merely the city’s most recent murder victim. By the time the summer finally draws to an end, dozens of other people will be dead. In a city long known for its incessant and often random violence, summertime is the scariest time of year. It’s the time when murders become so common that the city guarantees itself the morbid distinction of becoming the nation’s murder capital for yet another year. I call this time of year the killing season. The killings are a fact of life down here or, better put, a cycle of death.
After two of my friends were murdered last year in separate incidents, and my car was surrounded by drug dealers on a sunny Saturday afternoon –- three blocks from my house -- I decided to get involved in anti-crime efforts. I started asking questions at my weekly neighborhood association meetings, and the next thing I knew, I was co-chair of the crime committee. Ask questions? Get the responsibility. It was that simple and unpopular of a job.
Since then, the other co-chair and I teamed up with local grassroots organizations and launched a petition to keep the Louisiana National Guard in New Orleans. Former Gov. Kathleen Blanco deployed the guard in June 2006 after five teenagers were found gunned down. During the last two years, however, the economic strain of paying, feeding and housing the nearly 300 soldiers stationed here has become extremely unpopular in the rest of the state, placing political pressure on current Gov. Bobby Jindal to pull the guard out of New Orleans.
But for some of New Orleans’ most vulnerable residents, true pioneers rebuilding in a post-apocalyptic atmosphere littered with block after block of abandoned houses, the guard provides their only protection. Dressed in fatigues and riding in military Humvees, the soldiers patrol the areas of the city that took the most water and therefore have been the slowest to recover -- neighborhoods such as eastern New Orleans, Gentilly, Lakeview and the Lower 9th Ward. These patrols allow the undermanned and overworked police force to focus their patrols in the more populated areas of the city. Without the guard patrols in the sparsely populated areas, either the New Orleans Police Department would be forced to pull officers from administrative and intelligence departments, effectively bringing investigations to a halt, or large tracts of the city would be left to fend for themselves.
Sensing the post-Katrina political tide in Baton Rouge was shifting, and not in New Orleans’ favor, Jeffery and I, along with volunteers from Citizens for 1 Greater New Orleans, collected nearly 5,000 signatures asking the governor to keep the guard in the city. Mayor Ray Nagin, Supt. of Police Warren Riley and City Councilwoman Cynthia Willard-Lewis endorsed our efforts and made personal requests to the governor.
A few weeks ago, Jindal announced that the guard will stay through the end of 2008. It’s a temporary success that helps me and a lot of other people working hard to rebuild our homes and community rest easier, for now.
But it doesn’t quiet the cacophony of second-guessing in my head. That still comes in loud and clear.
(Photos: Kathy Price-Robinson)
 I want to let you know about the Pardon Our Dust feature coming up Sunday in the Real Estate section. It's about two bathrooms that were gutted and redone in 14 days. But I also want to share with you something that did not fit in my article but that touched me personally as I reported and wrote the story.
As you'll read on Sunday, Meg Moreta, a mother of two small daughters, was diagnosed with Stage 3 cervical cancer, and then breast cancer, while still in her 30s. I don't want to give away too much of the story, but after what she had gone through, she really needed a fresh start with her bathrooms, which were reminding her of bad times.
While I sat and talked with Meg at her pretty and peaceful Los Angeles home (her two daughters were on a play date), I was astonished at what she had gone through. And what she continues to go through. Late-stage cancer, chemotherapy and radiation really take a toll on a body.
Talking to Meg reminded me of how important it is that we all stay on top of our healthcare. Meg's advice to readers: Request your medical reports. Read them and ask questions. And keep your records in a binder. In other words, take charge of your own health.
(Photos: Rod Foster)
 Joni's condo kitchen update is nearly done. (See the project up to now.) Joni's friend and fellow nurse Patti is helping out, and she files this report:
I'm home from the mountains and went to see Joni's kitchen today. It's beautiful! I am thrilled and so is she. (Click photos to enlarge.)
Joni opted to have a friend who is a "tile guy" finish the tiling. She helped him and said that our thin set was definitely too thin. He applied it the same as we did; it was just thicker. We'll never make that mistake again. The tile guy also did the grout work for her and had a tile saw to cut the few that required adjustments. I think she had just had it with the mess we had to clean up after using thin set that was too thin.
We are very close to being done. I think one day or so of clean-up just may do it. We need to finish some drywall work and put a finish coat of paint on the kitchen walls. And then we'll replace the switch plates.
Joni is already talking about how to carry the mood and color palette from the kitchen into the living room. I can't believe the balance that the chocolate-colored panels at the top of the cabinets (see that here) provides to the tile. I really don't know if it's just dumb luck or if there was some intuition at play in the color choice. However it came to us, I'll take it. It's beautiful.
We have one more issue to resolve: how to hang pendant lights from a solid beam over the breakfast bar. I'll be asking your advice in a future posting.
Big changes, people! On the Fourth of July, this blog will move to my own website at www.kathyprice.com and I hope you will join me there to continue the conversation. I plan to blog more about my own projects, as well as the projects of others, green remodeling, the rebuilding of New Orleans and my general love of home.
You will continue to find my 11-year Pardon Our Dust series alive and well in the Sunday Real Estate section. In fact, the story about two bathroom remodels done in 13 days is scheduled for Sunday, July 6.
Also, I'm in negotiations to write a book with the star of a home improvement TV show. More details on that later, on my own website, when the deal is done.
As you know if you've been keeping up with my blog, I've recently become enthralled and obsessed with the rebuilding of New Orleans. I visited the first time in mid-February and have been there now four times.
So it was with some excitement, in my own Southern California neighborhood, that I came across this door left by a neighbor on the side of the street.
As I drove by, the morning sun glinted through the orange, green, blue and yellow of the fleur-de-lis stained glass. I backed up, got out, did an inspection and called my husband: "Can you bring your truck to pick this up?"
He said: "Do you think you need to stay and guard it?"
Of course! This was too good. Bill was amazed at the solidness of the tight-grain fir of the door. It's heavy. Bill said they don't make doors like this anymore. And we got the door framing to boot.
At home, I researched the fleur-de-lis symbol, which you see everywhere in New Orleans and which has become a symbol of the rebuild. See it here spray-painted on an old refrigerator after the hurricane.
The symbol is found all over Europe, especially in France, Spain, Scotland and Germany, and in the United States in southern Louisiana cities such as Lafayette and Baton Rouge, as well as New Orleans.
Where I will use the door, I'm not yet sure. It's only 30 inches wide, six inches too narrow to replace any of my exterior doors. But I just realized it's the perfect width to replace the door from the hallway into my bathroom, where I'd like to get more natural light. Can I imagine myself soaking in a tub while the morning sun from the living room lights up this window? Oh, yeah! I can see it.
By Ariane Wiltse
As the big day approached, the day when we'd jack up the house, cut out the old sills and rebuild the piers, I began to take great joy in watching my good friend Beau squirm (he's standing while watching my dad Joe).
"What's the matter Beau?" I asked as he paced incessantly, stealing peeks at my crumbling brick piers. "Afraid we'll drop the house and squash you?"
Now, I don't want to come across as too bold, and Lord knows I don't want to jinx the job -- we still have a good little bit to do. But so far, we've replaced all the sills and piers along one long side of the house without so much as a stubbed toe, let alone a squashed Beau.
And for that, I have my dad and cousin to thank. My 60-year-old "Papa Joe" and 50-year-old cousin Markey spent five hot, humid and hard days here recently working from dawn to Miller time (4:30ish) rebuilding my disintegrating foundation.
In that short period, they replaced 46 feet of 6-inch-by-6-inch sills, poured 24-inch-by-24-inch footings with 4,000 pounds of concrete and rebuilt 22 concrete block piers, setting footlong steel rebar and pouring more concrete inside each cavity. Then we added termite shields, shims where necessary, and leveled the old gal.
Had I been forced to hire a contractor to do the same work, it would have cost, according to estimates, from $10,875 to $13,400.
While my family and I worked on the foundation, Beau busted up the front concrete porch. (Visions of his feet jutting out from underneath a flattened house, Wicked Witch of the East-style, had become problematic.)
Sledgehammer in hand, Beau chipped away at the solid, steel-reinforced structure for a solid two days. (You heard me -- Beau the computer geek was breaking rocks in the hot sun.) I asked him to sing us a little ditty while he swung the sledgehammer, perhaps a Woody Guthrie chain-gang tune, or at least "I've been working on the railroad, all the live-long day," but he refused. Instead he stuck iPod plugs in his ears and turned up the volume to some political podcast. He didn't seem amused, but he never complained.
On their last night in town, and as a small gesture of my gratitude for all their help and hard work, I treated Papa Joe and Markey (Beau didn't return my call in time) to dinner at Commander's Palace, one of the best and most highfalutin' restaurants in New Orleans.
After dropping my family off at the airport, I got to thinking: I don't know many people with as large and close-knit a family as mine. Although we have our disagreements (we are a passionate and proud people prone to stubborn arguments), I know I can count on a crew of kinfolk, as they can count on me. Few people in our fast-paced, cross-country modern world can pick up a phone and ask parents, siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles (living thousands of miles away) to put their lives on hold and come help with a big, nasty and hard job, especially in the New Orleans summer heat.
For that, and so much more, I am truly blessed.
See the whole story in pictures
(Photo: Ariane Wiltse)
Read on »
Isn't this bedroom yummy? It's in the Rosarito Beach vacation condo that Don and Gigi Maurizio remodeled.
Gigi, an administrator with the Glendora Unified School District who lives in Claremont, told me she found the headboard (which is really a footboard) for $5 on closeout at a Pier One Imports store. That was the starting point for the room.
To make reading in bed more enjoyable, Gigi's husband, Don, a professor in the technology department at Cal State L.A., mounted the headboard at an angle. He joked about spending more on the lumber to mount the headboard than the headboard cost.
I love what Gigi did with the "canopy" treatment. It looks so cozy, but it's really just two rods sticking out of the wall with a piece of fabric hanging from each, and tied back at the wall. (Click on the photos for a larger view of this.) And the starfish hanging overhead came right from the beach just beyond the condo patio.
On the floor are ceramic tiles that look like slate; this tile is found throughout the house. To the right, you see a small table and chairs that might not seem in sync with the rest of the room. Those pieces were not bought new (as were most of the pieces for the remodel) but hold great memories for Gigi: The table is where she wrote her PhD dissertation.
Just above the table, the curtains — with seashells tied onto them — are quite in tune with the sound of the ocean waves just outside the window.
(Photos: Los Angeles Times)
 In a previous post, Andrew C. wondered how to best use the extra space on the ground floor of his Crofton, Md., townhouse. He wanted both a larger laundry area and a bathroom.
Several readers gave good suggestions. Helen thought up a different configuration for the space with room for a big bath and a bigger laundry room.
Readers Jose and modernemama each suggested a stackable washer and dryer to free up space for, perhaps, shelving.
But it was lil_gaucha who has my vote for this idea: Use all the space for a combination laundry room and full bath. Then, Andrew gets a nice big space to do his laundry, and when he sells the townhouse in five years, the appraisal will reflect that extra full bath.
After doing some Internet searching, I see this is not an uncommon use of space. At first it seemed a little odd, having a toilet in the laundry area. But after seeing a few photos, especially with the washer and dryer behind folding doors, I warmed up to the plan.
I was also reminded of Bethany Orlemann's brilliance when she incorporated the space of her service porch into the kitchen and then added front loaders under a counter. It made her Eagle Rock kitchen much larger and her laundry area is stylish.
You like the idea of a combo bathroom/laundry room?
(Photos: Bethany Orlemann)
Andrew C., a reader from Crofton, Md., needs our advice on whether to add a bathroom to some extra space on his ground floor, or to enlarge his cramped laundry room. (See the miserable laundry room here and here.)
A little background: Andrew bought his three-story townhouse a year ago and plans to live there another five years. The second story has an eat-in kitchen, living room, dining room and half bath. The top floor has the master bedroom, two more bedrooms and two full baths. So far, so good.
But Andrew feels the space on the ground floor could be better used. There are two rooms down there that Andrew uses as a media room and an office. There is also a utility room with the washer and dryer and all the home’s mechanicals, and an adjacent storage room. Both spaces together are 6 feet by 12 feet.
Andrew wants a larger laundry room, but he also would like a bathroom on that floor. He considered a half bath, but it would require a walk through the laundry room to get to it. And he wonders: Is that too weird? A real estate agent told him that a full bath would bring most resale value in case the two existing rooms are used as bedrooms.
But it makes me sick to think of Andrew doing his laundry in that pitiful space for the next five years. That can't be right. I wonder if there is some compromise or another idea we're not considering.
Patti here. Since our weekend tile project, which Joni and I wrote about in a previous post, we have gathered some valuable information.
First and foremost is that thinset should be the consistency of peanut butter! Ours was more the consistency of sour cream, so it was too thin. (Notice the food references; it is a kitchen, after all.)
Second, with this Oceanside tile, we need to make certain we thoroughly cut through the thinset all the way to the wall surface with the quarter-inch notched trowel. That means when we apply the thinset and pull it across the wall with the notched side of the trowel, we should hear the trowel scratching on the wall.
All things considered, I think our problem was that the consistency of the thinset was too thin and we applied it too thickly.
To our credit, we weighed and measured the proportions exactly, to the manufacturer's specifications. But there are variables to consider, I'm sure, and we now know to mix it thicker no matter how precise our measurement. These are the types of things a professional would know.
For Joni and I, a couple of novices, I consider this all well within a reasonable learning curve, and I'm tickled with the tile. It's beautiful and has exactly the right feel to set off the colors and features of this kitchen. We'll keep you posted.
See the project so far.
 Over here at the Robinson/Price-Robinson abode, there has been a standoff concerning the new water heater we need so badly. Ours is likely 20 years old and not very efficient. Our gas bill would go down immensely if we replaced that beast.
But the choices are many. Do we get a new and efficient gas-powered tank model? Or a tankless gas-fired model?
Or, if we are planning to install solar power when the prices of photovoltaic systems are expected to drop by 2010, shouldn't we install either an electric-powered tank model or an electric-powered tankless model? (See a comparison of lifecycle costs.)
Trouble is, with the latter two choices, we need about $1,000 worth of electrical work done to give them the 220 volts of power they require.
I'm the one who wants the electric, tankless, on-demand system. And Bill wants the gas-powered tank system. Thus, a standoff.
But I think we might be getting closer to doing it Bill's way, and that's always so much easier all the way around. Spouses, can you relate?
Part of my thinking about the tankless system is that most of the cool green builders I respect are big, big proponents of the tankless systems. And that means a lot to me.
But I was recently contacted by Wes Harding, a green-leaning builder in Long Beach (Lic. No. 895042) who believes that new, super-efficient tank systems are actually the better way to go.
Wes provided a link to an article about a scientific analysis of all systems, but, he noted: "The only problem I see with the article is efficiency is measured in gas or electricity consumed, not the amount of water used."
Here's a chart from the analysis:
In terms of both water and energy savings, Wes is sold on tank water heaters for these reasons:
1. God forbid, but if we are ever in a major earthquake or disaster, where do we get our water supply from if we have converted to tankless? With a tank system, the water in the tank can be used in an emergency.
2. Water is wasted in a tankless system because it has to be heated through a coil before it reaches the point of use.
3. Tankless systems operate on the volume of water. If you set your faucet to a trickle, the heater won't kick in. This allows for "slugs" or cold spurts between the hot-water delivery as well as more water consumed.
4. A limited number of fixtures can be used at one time.
5. More electrical energy is consumed as the amount of water increases because of the energy it takes to provide water pressure.
A few more links from Wes:
• A local company that manufactures on-demand recirculating water pumps. The products stops wasting water and can be added to any water heater.
• A nonprofit that sells energy-efficient products that are very affordable.
• Green companies in Long Beach.
Got questions for Wes? Post them below.
(Photo: Pacific County, Wash.)
Patti here. I'm helping my friend and fellow nurse Joni spruce up her kitchen. (See the project so far).
 Well, we got some tile up over the weekend. Whew, it was a lot of work. With this, as with everything else, there was quite a learning curve. We were extremely careful to plan the placement, have all of our supplies ready and be versed on the instructions before we started (Photo 1).
We cut out a template for placement to make sure we had everything right, then applied the thinset (a thin mortar) with a trowel with one side having quarter-inch notches in it.
We put the thinset on with the flat side of the trowel, then ran back through it with the notched side of the tool, then back over one more time with the flat side of the tool. The reason for the smoothing is that we have some semi-transparent tiles that would show the trowel lines had we not knocked them down.
We placed the first sheet of tile up and had to finesse it into place, which created a lot of thinset oozing through the seams. We didn't quite know this as we had to leave the paper coating on for about 20 minutes (2). We then soaked the paper with water and removed it, much like removing wallpaper.
It was a mess underneath. We moved on to the rest of the wall (3), which is behind and above the stove, in the same fashion. We noticed the tiles slipping down the wall so the margins were no longer matching to the sheet already up!
We tried to hold the sheets of tile in place, which, I can tell you, was not effective. To keep tiles from slipping down the wall, I nailed a trim piece (which Joni had from the cabinet we had removed previously) directly under the tile (4), and I then hammered nails under the tiles themselves through the paper backing, to take some of the weight of the top tiles off the bottom tiles. The problem is that the thinset was moving down all along, even though the tiles stayed in place.
Now I'm not sure if this is a common problem or if the mix was too thin. I do believe we applied it too thick, except that is hard to assess in that the thinset on the top areas was very thin and beautiful and on the bottom very heavy and messy (5 and 6).
Joni worked on the project for about nine hours Saturday and was so wound up and frustrated that she was unable to sleep. I got a very distressed call Sunday that she was just done! She wanted to hire out the rest no matter what the cost, and she thought we wouldn't be able to salvage what was already up, thus wasting $300 in tile.
I assured her the best I could and went over to her house Sunday evening to take a look. By that time, she had discovered that if she applied water to the surface of the tiles, she was able to chip and rub the excess thinset off (7).
I helped her for about an hour and got it almost entirely done. It's vital to get the grout lines clear of all white thinset so that it doesn't show against the darker grout. Joni feels much better about it now.
I think it looks beautiful and that we have the most difficult area by far done. The rest of the job is only five tiles high, just above the counter, which isn't much weight and the tile will have the counter to rest on. Also, we need a few spacers so there is a grout line at the junction where the tile meets the top of the counter. But this is for Joni to decide.
It may be that when I get home from camping this week, the tile job will be done.
I think we've done pretty well for a couple of novices on a tight budget which, by the way, I think we'll still be pretty close to, unless Joni hires out the rest. I think it would be nice to finish ourselves so that we know we can do it, but as I said, that's totally her call.
It looks so good with the chocolate-colored wall above the cabinets (8 and 9). It looks like it was totally meant to be that way. I love it and am still having fun. Go figure.
And here are comments from the star of the show, Joni:
It was blood, sweat and tears over this little area behind my stove. As Patti explained, all the thinset settled to the bottom of the wall and the wood trim kept it there behind the tiles. I was attempting to remove the hardening thinset between the tiles for the grout lines (as recommended) once that was removed.
To make sure the tiles were flat against the wall, and not floating on various thicknesses of thinset, I used a 2-by-4 to gently tap the tiles flat and even. Then, thinset would ooze out between the tiles and I would have to start over again. I'm glad I spent the time to make sure all the tiles were flat against the wall and the nails (about 40 of them) kept the tiles in place. The spaces between the tiles are very close. Fortunately, with the type of tile it is, it looks great.
It turned out beautiful and I love it! I feel good about the job we did. I am getting bids on the remaining backsplash and will let you know what I decide. I love my kitchen and Patti has been great. My kitchen has a great vibe!
 Did I not watch "Sex and the City" reruns for the past four years?
Did I not come to feel in some TV-induced mania that I knew Carrie, Miranda, Samantha and Charlotte? Did I not notice who they were and how they would decorate their homes?
So how in the world did attorney Miranda Hobbes' home come to look like this in the new movie? Miranda is tightly wound, a control freak and quite sophisticated. How could she live in a place like this?
An article in the San Francisco Chronicle says this decor is a window into Miranda's personality, a personality which, I suppose, is really confused.
However, the Miranda I "know" would use her decor to hide such a personality, or to influence her personality toward a more put-together state of mind.
What do you think? Does this room look like the Miranda you know?
Also, rate Carrie's new space.
(Photo: San Francisco Chronicle)
 As long as we're keeping track of the rebuilding progress in New Orleans, I wonder:
How do y'all pronounce the name of the city?
As a not-very-well-traveled native of Burbank, I've always pronounced it "NEW-or-leans."
And when I'm trying to be cute, I pronounce it "NOIR-lins."
But when I've visited the area, several times in the last few months, I've noticed the folks down there pronounce it like this: "new-OR-lee-ins."
Or: "new-AH-lee-ins."
I love the latter two pronunciations and may just switch to one of those.
(Photo: Kathy Price-Robinson)
 After I wrote about a green home renovation in New Orleans (see it here), I heard from contractor Tom Borland, who had made that home's beautiful wood countertops. The counters are notable for the warm beauty that came from old, salvaged pine with super-tight grain.
It turns out Tom was a SoCal builder who moved to New Orleans just after the storms of 2005. Tom has a lot of tales to tell. Here's what he had to say:
Question: How is it that you came to move to New Orleans just after the storm? Many people were leaving at that time.
Answer: For some reason, the storm was an event of great interest to me from the start. I was working on a vacation home my wife and I bought in Jacksonville, Fla., when it happened. I remember telling my wife in California at the time that I wanted to do something to help, as I heard the daily reports on National Public Radio about the destruction and the failed response in its aftermath.
My church in El Segundo (Hilltop Church of Christ) has an elder who is from Slidell, La., and church members put together a major relief effort, comprised of more than 10,000 volunteers, over the following year. A friend called and asked if I wanted to take part, and on Sept. 17, 2005, we were en route to Slidell. After two weeks of gutting homes in St. Tammany Parish, I flew home to Los Angeles, met my wife at the airport and told her that we were moving to New Orleans. I packed my stuff, finished the job I was on and left for NOLA [the city's nickname], arriving back the beginning of October.
I suppose I moved here out of a combination of wanting to help, the possibility of making a little money, a chance to escape the traffic and rat race of L.A. and the feeling that the future was wide open in NOLA. I remember riding around the city from job to job and feeling like the city was just waiting to not only be rebuilt but possibly reinvented. The people involved in the rebuilding were an interesting combination of hucksters, idealists, do-gooders and hard workers.
Q: How is building and remodeling in NOLA different from building and remodeling in Southern California?
A: The differences are so many it’s hard to know where to start. With the exception of the suburbs, everything here is old. I know that back in L.A. we have neighborhoods like Pasadena, Hollywood, etc. with plenty of '20s-era homes, but I think most guys are working on homes like you would find in the Valley — post-war, minimal detailing as far as interior trim, level floors, lots of stucco exteriors and most important, you can remodel them with materials readily available at your local Lowe’s.
Here, the stock of turn-of-the-century and older homes seems to be . . .
Read on »
 I was so excited about this new shower curtain, which was a gift for my husband.
It was at about 35,000 feet, breathing airliner air, when I saw in a magazine this really neat shower curtain. The clear vinyl on the top would allow our dark and narrow shower stall some needed daylight. And the curtain is treated with "the world's strongest industrial antimicrobial and germicidal inhibitor."
And maybe that's why, when it arrived in my mailbox, it had such a chemically odor that I had to leave it outside overnight.
Then I read today that a report released by the Virginia-based Center for Health, Environment & Justice found that vinyl shower curtains "sold at Bed Bath & Beyond, Kmart, Sears, Target and Wal-Mart, among other major retailers, contained high concentrations of chemicals that are linked to liver damage as well as damage to the central nervous, respiratory and reproductive systems." Yikes! And I'm so fond of my central nervous system. Heck, I like all my systems. (Read about the study in the L.A. Times.)
So what do I now? I want to be an eco-consumer and I want to retain my good health. And I'm not even sure if this item is an offender. And our bathroom window is open all the time for natural ventilation. But If I suspected this item was not healthy, how would tossing it, and all its embodied carbon load, into the trash square with my green goals?
In other words, if you discovered you'd made a bad, unhealthy purchase, which do you think would be the greener action: keep it and make use of it, or get it out of your house, dump it in the landfill for future generations to deal with and try again?
Perhaps I shouldn't have bought it. That might be the answer. But what do I do now? What would you do?
(Photo: Sky Mall)
 I guess I'm not a competent matchmaker, as I seem to have violated a major principle in the art form: timing. (Or, as comedian Steve Martin pronounced it in one of his routines, ti-MING.)
My gaffe was in telling the story about bachelor Aaron Raymond, seen here showing off the travertine backsplash he had installed in his kitchen, but not checking up on his dating status just prior to the article running last Sunday in the Real Estate section.
Funny thing is, an editor suggested that because I was making such a big deal in the article about Aaron expanding his home to accommodate a future wife and family, that I should contact him and check on his singlehood situation. I rejected that idea as I didn't want to embarrass him, but in hindsight it would have been wise.
After getting several inquires from professional women about Aaron's status, including a homeowner who said she wanted to throw her hat into the ring, I decided it was time to ask Aaron: Are you seeing anyone?
Brace yourself ladies: he is. Between the time I interviewed him for the story and the time it ran, he had resumed dating a former girlfriend. And although he's very flattered and intrigued by the attention he’s getting from others, he wants to give this a chance. That's what decent guys do.
If other bachelors reading this post wonder how to attract quality women, I'd say a whole-house remodel and second-story addition with about 100 square feet of empty closet space is a good place to start.
(Photo: Kathy Price-Robinson)
 Do you ever feel you spend too much time outside enjoying yourself? I do.
While the dishes and laundry and dust are building up inside, I can usually be found outside watching the birds, fiddling with a fountain, pulling weeds, keeping track of my polliwogs and frogs, contemplating the garden, pondering my fall plantings.
And sometimes I feel a tinge of guilt about shirked responsibilities inside the house.
Well, no more. My newest excuse to be outside: I'm preventing disease.
I'm referring to a story in Monday's L.A. Times, Sunshine may be nature's disease fighter
Here's what the article says: A study released today found that men who are deficient in the so-called sunshine vitamin -- Vitamin D -- have more than double the normal risk of suffering a heart attack.
Just last week, another study found that low levels of Vitamin D increase the risk of diabetes, and a study last month linked deficiencies to an increased risk of dying from breast cancer.
The findings join a growing body of evidence indicating that an adequate level of the vitamin, which many people can get from 20 minutes in the sun, is crucial to maintaining good health.
So spending time outside is not a vacation from household duties. It a duty to one's health. Don't you agree?
(Photo: Kathy Price-Robinson)
 The worst part about ordering a home-improvement item or sample online is that you know you're going to be receiving catalogs in the mail that you may not want, even if you unclicked the send-me-unlimited-marketing-materials-from-you-and-all-your-partners-from-now-until-eternity button.
And how do you stop the catalog influx once it starts? Do you call the customer no-service number and beep through a series of options until you're pretty sure the human you're finally speaking with has no power to do what you want done?
Or do you gather together an envelope and stamp and mail your request, being even more sure it will do no good whatsoever?
Yes, I have tried all these tactics, but with little success.
Yet I have high hopes for Catalog Choice, a website where you can indicate which catalogs you'd rather not receive. Then, the website people contact the companies on your behalf and tell them: Stop already!
Catalog Choice is a sponsored project of the Ecology Center. It is endorsed by the National Wildlife Federation and the Natural Resources Defense Council and funded by the Overbrook Foundation, the Merck Family Fund and the Kendeda Fund.
Here are the catalogs I've requested a stop to during the last month:
Bed, Bath, & Beyond
Best Buy
Big Dogs
Costco
Flor
Pottery Barn
Sky Mall
Trader Joe's
Westways
I actually really like all these companies. But I do my online shopping online and see all the ads I need in the daily newspaper.
So far, Bed, Bath & Beyond is the only company that has confirmed my request. Yay! I can log into my account on www.catalogchoice.org and keep track of my choices.
All my other requests are marked unconfirmed or pending. I don't have much hope for stopping Westways as I already made several requests on my own to stop this magazine from coming and I was informed that if I had a AAA card, I was required to get this publication. Does that sound right to you?
The Catalog Choice website states that nearly 1 million people have used the service, and have opted out of more than 11.8-million catalogs.
Have you used Catalog Choice? And did it work?
 I guess the apartment where Carrie Bradshaw researched and wrote her columns in the "Sex and the City" television show probably did need a makeover.
Several years had passed from Carrie's life on the small screen to her promotion to the big screen, and we all need to evolve. Carrie's guests needed to stop sitting on the floor around her coffee table, right?
But I'm not sure the new apartment (see "after" photo above) is quite right for her. The apartment is attractive, no doubt about that. But it seems too streamlined for Carrie, too coordinated, too balanced. That's not our Carrie! And it doesn't look comfortable. And that big TV. What's that all about?
(Photos: Apartment Therapy, Chicago Tribune)
I got a bunch of questions about the original ceiling and archway of the $20,000 kitchen remodel in the latest Rate This Remodel feature. So I thought I'd show the old and new compared here:
What's neat about the story, for me, is that Dani had a lot of time to think about her kitchen. The archway detail into the breakfast room is something she had thought about for years, and she was clear on the molding she wanted. Because of all of this planning, her contractor said, she was one of the easiest clients he has ever worked with.
So if getting the funds to do your remodel is taking longer than you'd like, put that time to use the way Dani did. The eventual remodel will be much better for it.
 Dear SoCal Gardeners: My mother-in-law gave me this Chinese elm tree (click photo to enlarge) and I planted it about five years ago.
It's never done that well. It grows fast but the leaves get blackened and the branches break off.
The latest break took off about a third of the tree, and it looks as if it's rotten inside. There are little reddish marks along most branches, which I imagine are some type of pest.
I don't want to fight these pests with chemicals. Maybe I don't water it enough? But I don't want a tree that needs a bunch of water. Maybe my climate is too humid or cool for an elm to grow easily? I'm a few miles from the ocean and we get the marine layer. If it's the climate, I'll just take the rest of the tree down and allow the volunteer oak underneath it to grow up instead.
Fellow SoCal garden enthusiasts: Any suggestions? Insights? Experiences with elms?
(Do you have a SoCal gardening question for this forum? Please send an email to podblog@aol.com or post below.)
(Photos: Kathy Price-Robinson)
 Patti here. I'm helping my friend and fellow nurse Joni with the update of her condo kitchen.
We were supposed to be laying the backsplash tile this week, but we hit a little snag. Well, it's a time snag more than anything else, probably costing a week and $100.
As it turns out, we need to move the light sockets and switches up the wall for the tile to be set straight across and without a lot of cutting. A handyman came out today, and he thought he could do the job. He'll also run a wire up the inside of the wall so Joni can hang a pendant light over the eating bar, and he'll fix a fan/light in the kitchen that Joni hasn't been able to use for a couple of years.
We'll have to get the tile up next week because I'll be camping for a week after that and our time will run out. At first Joni was not sure we could lay the tile ourselves, but perhaps because we've had so much success with the painting and other projects she feels more confident in our abilities.
Also, Joni decided to get a tall contemporary dining room table with bar-height chairs to replace the big oak table and hutch she's had for years. We discovered that oak sets like this sell for only $250 or so on Craigslist, so Joni might take hers to the local consignment shop (where she found her tall table) so that she doesn't have to deal with the hassle of potential buyers coming over to the house.
Stay tuned. We're almost done!
See the project so far.
By Ariane Wiltse
Oh, what beautiful music power tools make -- the steady hum of a compressor crooning like a late-night jazz singer in a smoky haunt, the staccato beat of a nail gun, the trumpet of a power saw. At last, the ubiquitous sounds of New Orleans’ recovery have come home.
After eight months spent prepping and planning -- of chopping down the 15-foot-high jungle that consumed the yard, gutting 1,800 square feet of house to the studs, finagling insurance coverage that costs less than a mortgage, scouting for a reasonably priced yet highly recommended contractor and fighting with City Hall for a building permit -- I finally broke ground on rebuilding my house. Can I get a hallelujah?
Now that I’ve come this far, I hope to get the house structurally secure and waterproof before the scary part of hurricane season arrives in August. It’s ambitious but oh so necessary.
Starting from the ground up, Michael Gomez and his crew are shoring and leveling the original 1830s back section of the house, which is made of bargeboards (see a definition of bargeboards).
Structurally, it’s a wreck. Most of the sills have gone soft from decades of water rot and feasting Formosans. Others are cobbled together from mix-matched pieces of lumber. Several lack lap joints. Sill ends sit precariously on ancient, crumbling brick piers. Walls lean. Floor joists float several inches from the sills. And the ends of the structure aren’t square.
It’s a big, nasty and complicated job. I figured it best to let the experts tackle it. By the time they finish, they will have replaced about 60 feet of sills, rebuilt two dozen concrete block and steel-reinforced piers and racked the walls into their proper place.
As Mike and his crew work, they also are teaching me and a couple friends I’ve hired for the summer how to finish the sill and pier work on the main portion of the house.
Although the back of the house is in the worst shape, many of the sills and piers along the relatively newer front section also need replacing. And because I don’t have the budget to hire a contractor to complete the job, I’ve hired friends to help. Furthermore, because I have only two friends available to work, one with a good bit of experience, the other with zilch, my dad and a cousin arrive later this week to help us jack up the house, cut out the old sills, fit new ones, pour concrete footings, build new cement block piers and level the monster.
People say it’s not a complicated job, replacing sills and piers, just labor-intensive. They add, however, that if we screw up, walls or even the entire house could fall. Kinda scary. To avoid such a disaster, my friends Sam and Beau are working hard to secure sagging ceiling joists, sister up wobbly studs and brace leaning walls before we even look at a jack, let alone hoist up the house.
Wish us luck. Say a prayer. Light a candle, do a dance, whatever. I have a feeling we’re gonna need it.
(Photos: Ariane Wiltse)
The story so far
First, here are the facts:
• The kitchen remodel in this 1971 Northridge tract house cost $20,000 and was done in three weeks. (Click on the photos to get a larger view)
• Homeowner Dani Taylor did none of the work herself, but hired a contractor well known in the neighborhood.
• Dani had many years to imagine how she would improve her kitchen as other remodeling projects and additions to the house took priority.
• Rather than investing in new cabinets, Dani had her cabinet boxes refaced and got new doors and drawer fronts.
• She added an amazing amount of extra counter space by designing the new, angled cabinet section you see on the right of the remodel photos.
• While most of the appliances are new, she opted to keep her dishwasher, which worked fine, and got a new panel for the front.
• A few concessions were made to keep within budget, including keeping the existing tile floor and not pushing the kitchen into an adjacent breakfast area.
• But Dani did not have to give up her dream of granite counters, which were fit into the budget.
Here's a chance to offer some feedback:
 There are two basic ways of thinking about old windows in post-Katrina New Orleans. On one hand, old windows are rich with history and architectural detail. On the other hand, they can be cracked, broken, rotten and leaking.
It's the latter category that causes the contractors, workers, homeowners and volunteers who are rebuilding New Orleans to toss old windows out and replace them with new ones that are watertight and weather resistive.
But it's the former way of thinking — with reverence for century-old handiwork — that causes people like Ariane Wiltse to salvage old windows from the piles of demolition materials tossed alongside so many storm-ravaged streets.
Above, on the left, you see some of the windows Ariane has collected to use in the 1870s cottage she bought and is restoring in the Holy Cross neighborhood of the Lower 9th Ward. Anywhere Ariane can preserve history in this house, she is determined to do so.
Also, see the stacks of old bricks Ariane has collected for future projects.
See more of Ariane's story.
(Photos: Kathy Price-Robinson)
 A couple of weeks ago, I blogged about a newly built Craftsman-type house whose pillars never received the rock facing I expected. I had watched this house go up in a local golf course community as I took my daily walk.
Trouble was, as some astute readers (POD People) pointed out, I was watching the rear of the house. It felt like the front to me because I could see it from the street where I walked. But there was a more important question: What's going on in the front of the house? Can I hear a duh?
So yesterday I made my way into the gated enclave and saw that, indeed, the four pillars in the front did get stone. Well, maybe faux stone, it looked like to me. It was quite similar to the stone you POD People voted on in the poll.
But here's what I thought: Where's the front porch? As Brent pointed out, the pillars in the rear look vestigial, which means they represent something that once had a purpose but no longer do. In the front, two pillars hold up the overhang for the grand entrance. But the other two pillars have no purpose.
Instead of that garden area on the right, that could have been a lovely covered porch for future owners to sit out and drink tea and wave to the neighbors. As it is now, the only choice is to drive up to the house in a car, go in the house and stay there. Think how many decades of front-porch experience will be lost.
With no front porch, and no virtually backyard (other than vestigial pillars that face another street), I think the exterior design of this house, while it has many assets, missed the mark. No wonder it's taken so long to sell.
 As Joni waits for her new backsplash tile to be delivered, and we all wait to see how it will look installed, clever POD Person* Mike did some computer magic to show us the end result.
Above, on the right, you can see a representation of what Joni's tile might look like up on the wall.
Also, Mike suggests a mustardy wall color instead of the cream or terra cotta colors being considered.
Thank you, Mike!
See the project so far
* POD Person: a member of the Pardon Our Dust blog community; one who fixes up a home; one who creates dust
(Photos: Kathy Price-Robinson; photo illustration: Mike Johnson)
 Sunday evening, after watching the "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition" team blow up a house with a radon issue, I began thinking about the whole concept of the show.
When the series began in 2003, I thought the idea was to give houses a makeover. But as I would learn, it's really about annihilating the old house, as violently as possible it seems, and then putting up something completely new.
No matter what the problem — mold, radon, lead paint — the solution is the same: raze the house.
I can't help but be happy for the folks who got a new home, but I wonder if the show gives the wrong message to the rest of us. What if we have mold, radon or lead paint? Should we dissolve in tears in front of a video camera in hopes the "EM: HE" people will save us?
Or should we find a way to fix what's wrong, to prevent radon from getting into the house, to solve the moisture and ventilation problems causing mold? I believe so.
Members of the National Paint & Coatings Assn. had similar thoughts recently. In reaction to a May 4 show that focused on the dangers of lead paint, the association president, J. Andrew Doyle, wrote a letter to the show that said, in part:
"The misconceptions conveyed during the show were so glaring that they surely warrant a broadcast and web site correction prior to airing your next episode, so as to avert putting millions of viewers at risk.
"First, the show gave the impression that any home containing lead paint would require total removal of lead paint from all surfaces before the home could be safe. This absolutely is not true in the majority of cases. The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) acknowledges that intact lead-based paint is not a hazard, when preventive maintenance such as paint stabilization or repainting is properly done. In such cases, lead cannot 'seep through 20 layers of paint' as show host Ty Pennington claimed!"
Plus, the show's team made a big deal of scooping up several feet of soil, which, according to Doyle, is not a typically required precaution.
I contacted "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition" to get a reaction to this letter, but did not get a reply. The whole issue got pushed to the back of my mind until Sunday, when I saw the house with radon gas being blown up (the show was a repeat).
So I'm wondering: Is "Extreme Makeover" too extreme? Would it not be in our best interest to understand some of the alternatives to a tear-down? Wouldn't it be responsible for this show to at least mention some alternatives?
With the economy and home prices still in the toilet, most of us are not moving anytime soon. I'd like to think we can fix the things that are wrong with our homes to make them safer.
Because here's the big news: No matter what the problem with your home, chances are that the "Extreme Makeover" team is not coming to the rescue.
What do you think? Is the show too extreme? Or does it get a pass because it's "just" entertainment?
(Photo: Turbo Squid)
 Progress is being made on Joni's condo kitchen remodel.
See Joni and her nurse-friend Patti in their scrubs working on the kitchen.
See the kitchen before any work was done.
So far, the overhead cabinet that blocked the natural light has come down, and a fun s-curve track light has gone up. The boring wood cabinets have been sanded, painted brown, glazed green and coated with polyurethane.
Plus, the backsplash tile (right) has been chosen, ordered and paid for. It comes to a whopping $641 out of the $1,000 budget.
"We were found to have very expensive taste," Patti noted.
The latest indecision revolves around the wall color, which surprised Patti: "I thought the wall color would be pretty easy to chose," she said. "Well, it's not!"
As you see in the photos (click to enlarge), a coating of a terra cotta/mocha color went up on the wall (center left photo) and Joni loves it.
Patti, though, feels it takes away from the excitement of the green cabinets and of the very expensive glass tile for the backsplash.
So Patti found some cream-colored paint that Joni had used in her hallway and brushed some on to see if it worked better (center right photo). She leaned a sample of the tile up there to see how it looks.
Me? I like the lighter wall color. I think it sets off the tile better.
On the other hand, why not get the tile installed and then play around with the wall color?
What do you think?
The spending so far:
Sanding sponge: $5.38
Track lighting: $54.65
Paint: $71.60
Paint containers: $6.02
Polyurethane & brush: $36.61
Foam board for paint testing: $2.80
Sandpaper: $15.19
Drop cloth (plastic): $3.21
Glaze (2nd can): $8.57
Paint application tools: $5.87
Flat polyurethane (satin was too shiny): $18.31
Staining pads: $2.67
Coolest backsplash tile ever (Patti's words): $641
(Photos: Kathy Price-Robinson)
 Ariane Wiltse is restoring a Katrina-damaged 1870s home in the Lower 9th Ward of New Orleans, and she is sharing her journey with us. Here's her latest installment:
The Altar
In the front room of my house, the room I tell visitors will one day serve as my library, sits a wood-burning fireplace with an Arts & Crafts-engraved slate face. It's quite fancy. A real eye-catcher, that fireplace. So much so that I figured it for just the right spot to place an altar.
I hadn't planned on putting an altar on my fireplace mantel, although no one in New Orleans would question my judgment. It's a fairly natural thing to do here. But I'm not from New Orleans. Michigan by birth. Virginia from there on out. And up North, people don't put altars on their fireplace mantels; they put fancy candles and knickknacks, family photos in fine silver frames, and during the Christmas season they cover 'em in all manner of evergreens. This doesn't leave much space for the dead and gone.
I don't know if the people who were living in my house when the Storm struck are dead. But I do know that they are gone. Gone so far and for so long that the neighbors don't know where to find them. We've tried. They don't return calls to their pre-Katrina phone numbers. City Hall says they still live at my house, but they don't come around anymore.
The banker has no answers. Foreclosures have a way of dehumanizing people, treating them as if they never existed. Even Google can't locate them. It's as if they disappeared.
Seeing as I can't find them to return the items they left behind, I decided to show my respects by placing their smallest belongings on the fireplace mantel. It seemed only right. I couldn't bring myself to throw away the common remnants of past lives. So I put them on display to remind myself and any visitors that a family once lived here, a family which likely lost all they had in the flood.
I catalogued the items I found. They include:
• A Zippo lighter
• A CD of the movie "The Wedding Singer"
• A 2-lb. hand weight
• Several large, primary-colored Legos, the kind used by toddlers
• A stick of women's concealer, just like the one I use to hide dark circles under my eyes
• A black barber's comb
• A plastic figurine of the cowboy from the Disney movie "Toy Story"
• A bottle of peach-flavored Cisco, the same "liquid crack" we used to drink in high school once we'd graduated from Boone's Farm wine coolers
• A 9mm bullet
• Little girl hair ties with large red balls on the tips used to hold ponytails in place
• A sugar dish made in Japan
• A tarnished silver spoon
• A prescription bottle of Orphenadrine, used to treat the painful muscle spasms so common with Parkinson's disease
• A rusted set of keys
• A boomerang
• A form letter from a class-action lawsuit for "clients who | |
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