Day One, Revisited

I know I wrote that a year and a half ago, but now that the restoration is (almost) over and the innkeeping has begun, it seems just as appropriate today.

Our first guests were a couple from Philadelphia just looking to get away on a Friday night. The sheets had arrived that morning, and I had to rush out at the last minute to find little bottles of shampoo, but we just finished it when the guests arrived...at 8pm.

They went out to dinner and I went to turn down the room, and realized I had no idea how to turn down a room. Dawn, who had to show me how to do "hospital corners" earlier that day, was also stumped. So we unmade and remade the bed at least four times, finally abandoning the whole idea.

The couple didn't mention the bed when they returned, but did let us know the remote for the whirlpool tub wasn't working. We assumed it was batteries, but the only other AAA batteries were on the other side of the farm, so I ran as fast as I could, in the pitch dark, to the other end of the farm and back, only to find it wasn't the batteries. The wall controls worked, but after a few minutes of us playing with those, they stopped working, too.

So there was no whirlpool bath and no turn down service. And no phone or water glass, either; I'd forgotten those. In the morning, though, I think I made it up with home-made bread, fresh fruit, and waffles, plus a mini-tour of the wolf sanctuary. When it came time to go, though, I couldn't pay the bill.

I'd just set up a merchant account a week ago, but hadn't received the credit card reader yet. So even though the couple wanted to pay, I couldn't accept it. I ended up printing a "receipt" on my computer, and telling them I'd charge the card as soon as the terminal arrived.

And that was it. Oh, except for the part about cleaning the room. I realized that I haven't cleaned a bathroom since 1996, the year we discovered housekeepers. It took me twelve trips around the house to assemble all of my cleaning supplies, and in between I was interrupted by phone calls and several people stopping by for tours. In the end it took me six hours to clean the room, but I just finished it before the next guests arrived...at 8pm.

But that's a story for Day Two.

P.S. Dawn has a new phrase: "You're the innkeeper, you do it."

The week after

I thought the grand opening meant we were done. I'm not sure how I can still be so naive after everything else we've gone through, but I think that eternal optimism is one of my charms. Of course, that may just be me being optimistic...

I'd forgotten about all the crystal and china that had been packed away and needed to be cleaned, or the 141 new sheets and towels that needed to be washed (85 if you don't count washcloths and pillow cases), or the property management software I was supposed to setup two months ago, or hanging 40-odd paintings, or buying 25 pounds of granola, or setting up Internet access, or moving all of our stuff from the greenhouse to the mansion. Our building inspector also helped out, giving us a list of a dozen items to correct before he would issue the occupancy permit. Needless to say, we were quite busy all week.

Everyone who sees this place tells me we'll never be finished, and I'm not sure if they're trying to steel me to the cold hard facts of life, or they think that will somehow cheer me up, or they're just having a private joke at my expense. In any case, they're right. I've had to abandon my day planner because there's just too much to do every day to fit it on those little pages. It's quite overwhelming.

And yet, for all my activity, I feel quite worthless. In Los Angeles, I had a good job and people respected my skills; out here there isn't much of a call for computer programming. There is a needfor someone to fix the tractor, mow the grass, paint the trim, hang a door, and pour concrete, and I can't do any of that stuff. Even the stuff I can do--install a dimmer switch, assemble furniture, caulk a sink--Dawn forbids me from doing, because she's afraid it will void our warranty.

So I content myself with doing the laundry, sweeping the floors, and cleaning the kitchen. It's not the most glamorous job, but it is what I signed up for six years ago when I suggested opening a B&B and Dawn said I would have to run it. But at least I'm working for myself now.

Oh wait, the property is in Dawn's name.

The end of the beginning

The building code inspector came out on Monday for the "final" visit and flagged us for a dozen issues, from a broken emergency light (which we knew about) to all of the shower lines being reversed (which we didn't know about). Dawn has taken care of everything and so we expect to get our occupancy permit tomorrow, after the inspector's "final, final" visit.

Our grand opening weekend went very well, with over 500 people attending. (At least, that's how many signed our guest book.) Matt, Terry, Louise, Josh, Ben, and Beverly did an amazing job managing the parking and shuttle service, and deserve a lot of kudos. In fact, the only foul-up of the entire day was mine: I made 100 copies of the "tour guide," and we ran out within an hour. Everyone else just got to see the results, without getting any context, but I think they appreciated it anyway.

I've got eight reservations so far, including three this weekend, so we're getting ready for the next stage. It's not the "second half" because we've still got a lot to do--finish the Paymaster's Office and privy, landscape, clean up the barn, stabilize the Stallion Pen, etc. Caring for a place like this is truly a neverending task.

But right now we're in the eye of the storm, as it were, with only a couple of contractors, and after the last two weeks of chaos, everything seems kind of serene. Last night I hooked up my stereo and played some of my dad's vinyl records--that may seem quaint, but I find it very relaxing. So relaxing, in fact, that I fell asleep in my office and slept there overnight. Don't tell the building inspector, though, since we don't have our occupancy permit yet.

Elijah, who helped get everything ready for the grand opening

Grand Opening!

The moment you've been waiting for -- I'll let the pictures speak for themselves:

The sign at the end of the driveway

The front of the mansion

Front door (with the new National Register plaque)

Foyer

Parlor

Library

Innkeeper's room

Kathryn's room

Kathryn's bath (with the whirlpool clawfoot tub for two)

Boys' Room

Bill's Room

Kitchen

Dining room

Some well-deserved rest

Pictures of the pool table and Summer Kitchen coming soon...

Cable 11 news

Anyone in the Lancaster area can watch an interview on Cable-11 News tonight (Thursday) at 10pm or tomorrow morning at 7am. It didn't go well--I'm not photogenic and Dawn refused to be in the interview--but hopefully the video of the mansion will make up for it. (I asked them to tell everyone they took the video last week, so it doesn't look like we're scrambling at the last minute, like we are.)

The shutters are done, the electric is done, the Summer Kitchen is not going to be fully painted. A pair of Amish sisters -- Verna and Lydianne -- cleaned the mansion from top to bottom. (Actually they started in the middle.) The sheets, towels, and pillows are here, but we still have to install the towel bars. The plumbers will be back tomorrow to finish the laundry room and hook up the stove. The blinds are in but need to be hung, and the drapes will be here Friday.

And the three custom beds that were supposed to come yesterday are going to arrive -- get this -- Saturday morning at 8am.

Coming together

Wow. In two days, the painting is finished, the ductwork is finished, the kitchen island is finished, the locks are finished, the windows are finished, and the shutters are almost finished. (I was responsible for those, which is why they are behind schedule.)

The walkway will be finished tomorrow at 6am, the blinds and last mattresses will be here tomorrow, the B&B sign and office lights should be here on Thursday, and the drapes, sheets, and towels should be here by Friday. We've hired two Amish ladies to clean, and have some friends coming over to help organize the furniture.

The Summer Kitchen plumbing and air conditioning is complete, the doors are ready to hang, the cabinets are hung, the wainscoting is set, the gas stove (fireplace) is installed, and the painting is almost complete. We should be able to set up the bed, day bed, and armoire tomorrow.

We still have to install window pulls, thermostats, and bathroom hardware, buy a coffee maker, and unpack all of our stuff from California, but it really is going to come together. Amazing.

Oh, and the best news: After a blistering week of temperatures in the high 90's, the forecast for our grand opening this weekend is 81 on Saturday and 77 on Sunday.

Joel the locksmith, who created new skeleton keys for all the doors in the mansion

Down to the wire

One week remaining...

Saturday

• Buy coffee maker
• Install new mailbox
• Order sheets and towels
• Find (or order) window pulls
• Order one more kitchen pull
• Schedule clock guy
• Buy bathroom hardware (towel racks, etc.)

Sunday

• Set up walkway, lay wood chips
• Unpack boxes, organize furniture
• Invite neighbors
• Set up canopy bed on new frame
• Find frame store
• Yale lights (porch light, any standing lamps)
• Verify wi-fi in all rooms

Monday

• Finish painting kitchen island
• Hang shutters
• Finish raingutters and spouts
• Schedule cable guy
• Finish plumbing (by Wednesday)
• Finish electric (by Thursday)
• Finish painting (by Wednesday)
• Prime and paint Summer Kitchen door

Tuesday

• Granite countertop arrives
• Restoration Clinic visit (remaining chairs, fix foyer light)
• Take down billiard light
• Set windows in Summer Kitchen (paint?)
• Custom beds to arrive

Wednesday

• Install cabinets in Summer Kitchen
• Hang blinds
• Hang Summer Kitchen door
• Pick up B&B sign
• Call vendor re: directional signage on 322

Thursday

• 9am Blue Ridge Channel 11 news
• Building inspector visit
• Office light fixtures arrive
• Paint workshop
• Move Grubb stone
• Prepare "welcome" sheet, make copies

Friday

• Clean!!
• Prepare slide show
• Drapes arrive
• Sheets and towels arrive?
• Set up bed in Summer Kitchen

Saturday

• Pick up food
• Set up musicians
• Grand opening activities at 12pm and 3pm

Sunday

• 12pm-6pm: Public open house

Monday

• Open for business (I hope!)

Near future: Pool table arrives, new billiard light arrives, set up phone system, landscape, put glass tops on all furniture, empty storage unit, finish Paymaster's Office...

Ted Crowther, yesterday

Travels with Alex, finale

My alarm is set for 4:30am (2 hours from now) so I can get a nice early start. With any luck, I'll be in PA tomorrow night.

At 4:30am, I got on the road. At 4:45am, my tire blew out.

Fortunately it was the passenger side, so I didn't have to face traffic to change the tire like last time. Unfortunately, I had to unpack my trunk to get to the spare, so it looked like I was holding a rummage sale on the I-70. (If anyone had stopped, I probably could have made some money.)

As I took the car off the jack, the sun was coming up, and I saw two lakes shrouded in mist, surrounded by wildflowers. I took this as a good sign.

I limped to the next exit but the only store was a Walmart. Now, anyone who knows me knows how much I hate Walmart, but I didn't have any other options, so I pulled in and waited until 7am, when the auto service opened. By 7:30am I was back on the road.

My directions said, "I-70 (Columbus) to I-76" so I took the I-70 through Illinois to Columbus, Ohio, and saw no sign of the I-76. I called a couple of people (including my old co-workers, who were laughing so loud I couldn't hear the directions) but it turned out I just needed to keep going. Then I got to West Virginia.

At this point my cell phone was dead and I was freaking out, until I found a convenience store with a map that showed a finger of West Virginia sticking up between Ohio and Pennsylvania. So I got back on the road and, 15 miles later, entered Pennsylvania.

I mentioned that I was trying to take pictures of all the "Now entering" signs for each state, and so far I'd only missed Ohio (which was on a bridge) and New Mexico (which was just boring). I'd even caught the West Virginia sign from a Burger King parking lot. But the Pennsylvania sign -- probably the most important in the collection -- was only available from the freeway, at night, on a narrow shoulder, with a lot of big rig traffic. I mention this only by way of excuse of why the picture only includes my right elbow. I was so distracted by everything else that I completely forgot that I was using a telephoto zoom lens, and I stood completely out of the photo.

The rest of the trip was uneventful, at least for me. (When I nodded off, things probably got interesting for the drivers around me, but I was fine.) I finally rolled onto the farm at 4am and fell right into bed. Dawn begged me to take a shower first--it had been three days--but I couldn't move.

Thus the saga ends, never to be repeated. I hope to have the photos developed tomorrow, but my scanner won't be here until next week. I need to get a digital camera...

Travels with Alex, part 3

The 2006 "Road Rage" awards go to:

• Most bizarre road sign: Oklahoma, which posted "Do not drive into smoke." Apparently they thought this was very important, as they posted it regularly.
• Most cryptic road sign: Missouri, which just put one or two letters in a white box on every exit sign, such as "F" or "AA." I have no idea what they meant.
• Most obnoxious road sign: Texas, which "greets" you with a complicated grid to determine your speed limit, a $2,000 fine for littering, and (my favorite) a sign to tell you that it's a state law that you have to read all the signs.
• Most useless road sign: Illinois, which puts the signs to indicate what services are available at each exit on the offramp, so you have to actually get off the freeway to read them.
• Runner up is Ohio, which prohibits animals from using the freeways. Presumably you can take your animal on the freeway; they just can't go on by themselves. I wonder how many animals read the signs and realize they are being discriminated against.
• Worst roads: Oklahoma, by a long shot. Oklahoma also had the most road work going on, so hopefully they are making up for a lot of deferred maintenance.
• Prettiest drive: Arizona. Everything else was one long stretch of nothing.
• Busiest town after midnight: St Louis. Even on a Thursday night, the waterfront was bustling. St Louis also gets the award for most confusing traffic patterns.
• Most chain restaurants: Amarillo, Texas, which had about 30 of them concentrated in two blocks, plus the Big Texan, home of the "free" 72 oz steak. (It's only free if you eat all four and a half pounds, plus roll, salad, and shrimp cocktail. Angioplasty not included.)
• Worst radio stations: Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, and Missouri. A combination of country music, religious talk shows, and Spanish music, repeated endlessly. I'm glad I brought 40 CDs; I wish I'd signed up for satellite radio.
• Worst food: McDonald's. It's been years since I tried to eat there, and I instantly regretted it. A large fry and cup of sweet tea, and I got my three-month's supply of salt, fat, and sugar. (Angioplasty also not included.)

I can't turn my head, I can't feel my legs, and I've put on about 17 pounds from the fast food, but I've covered 2,000 miles, with only about 800 remaining. It's 2:30am and I'm writing this from a freeway rest stop in Illinois, because I decided to skip the hotel tonight and press on to St Louis. I got lost -- seven times -- and ended up at 1am in East St Louis, on the other side of the river, which was completely deserted and still absolutely terrifying. But it had one of the best views of the arch, which was what I needed.

My alarm is set for 4:30am (2 hours from now) so I can get a nice early start. With any luck, I'll be in PA tomorrow night.

Travels with Alex, part 2

I don't think I like New Mexico. I know that's a terrible thing to say, but coming from Arizona which has so much -- Grand Canyon, saguaro cacti, petrified forest, painted desert, Meteor Crater -- New Mexico is just...boring. That, and I got a speeding ticket just outside of Albuquerque.

I did have one nice moment in New Mexico when I went in search of Window Rock -- oh, wait a second, that was still Arizona. Well anyway, I wanted to see this rock so I was following the signs for miles out in the middle of nowhere before I finally gave up, and turned around to go back to the freeway. As soon as I turned around, I saw this spectacular rock formation that had been behind me the entire time. So I grabbed my camera, and it mooed.

It turned out a cow happened to moo at the exact time I grabbed my camera. A few moments later, that cow came crashing through the underbrush, and was only about 10 feet away. But then I heard some other cows, and pretty soon there was an entire herd right by my car. In the middle of nowhere. And they were eyeing me suspiciously. I took a couple of pictures and then sped off before any bulls thought Pontiacinante was a potential threat. (I hope you Steinbeck fans are appreciating these literary allusions, because nobody else is.)

I would have loved to take some pictures of my iguana at the Dinosaur Museum, also in Arizona, but I really wanted to make some distance today after yesterday's paltry 600 miles.

I made 642 miles.

Besides the ticket and the cows, the only other adventure I had was when my cap blew off on the I-40. (Downside of a convertible.) I circled around to get it, which in the middle of the desert meant going 10 miles to the next exit, 15 miles back to the last exit, and then 5 miles back to my cap. As I wasted half an hour on a $12 cap, I had this mental picture of arriving in Pennsylvania with tread marks across my cap and Dawn saying, "Did somebody run over your hat?" to which I would reply, "No, someone ran over my head but the cap saved me."

I have a lot of time to think of things like that. Unfortunately, nobody ran over my cap.

So I don't know where all the time went, although I did lose two hours in time zones going from Arizona to Texas. Still, 12 hours of driving and only 642 miles is pathetic. At this rate, I won't get to Pennsylvania until Sunday night.

Tonight I am in Shamrock, Texas, and the inn offers free Internet access but they don't have wireless, and I don't have a wire, so I will have to publish this tomorrow. I am a little worried about the rest of the trip because I am now "off the map." You'd think, planning a cross-country drive I would have brought more than the AAA Map of the Western States, but you'd be overestimating me. I do have directions, of course, but no maps. Of course, when directions are "Take I-40 east for 1,208 miles, I-44 for 480 miles, then I-70 for 570 miles" you'd hope I wouldn't need a map. Besides, if I knew all the cool things I was driving by, I'd never get to Pennsylvania.

Oh, and one last thing that is actually related to our restoration project that this journal is supposed to be about: a photographer from the Lancaster Intelligencer came out to get some 'before' photos before the grand opening. When they called, I almost asked where they were sixteen months ago, but I held my tongue. And besides, right now they're doing all the finish work, which is the visible portion anyway. Pictures of the walls sixteen months ago don't look much different than pictures of the walls today, except for the paint.

Travels with Alex, part 1

It's 1am, I'm in Holbrook Arizona, and I'm not happy. For starters, I'm at the Best Western instead of the Wig Wam Hotel. Also, I should be in Las Cruces, New Mexico.

The day started at 4am, with less than six hours of sleep. I got Dawn to the airport, where they told us her flight may be cancelled because of weather. Since our highly coordinated plan required Dawn to be in Pennsylvania tomorrow for the electricians, this was a problem. Still, there wasn't anything I could do about the weather, so I left Dawn at the airport and got ready for my drive.

Given that the movers were there yesterday, I couldn't believe how much stuff was left, including an entire cupboard we had both overlooked. It took me four hours to move the remaining stuff into the garage, which was really depressing, because I know I'll be back in LA in a couple of weeks and I'll need to go through it all: Dozens of issues of This Old House magazine, hundreds of videocassettes, a box of work-related paperwork, and everything else I was too cheap to ship and too busy to sort through. (I did ship my father's entire record collection -- about five boxes -- strictly for sentimental reasons.)

The kicker, though, was the pile of dirt on the upstairs deck. We took a large planter that our neighbor had made for us, and the movers had just emptied it onto the deck! I found a garbage bag and borrowed a shovel and cleaned up the plants and soil as best I could, but then discovered that the garbage bag was too heavy to lift! And then I punctured it, so dirt was spilling everywhere. I couldn't carry that through the house, so I just tossed the bag off the deck and watched it fall two stories to its death below. That was kind of fun.

I packed the convertible with what I could, which consisted of 40 CDs, a cooler with a can of mandarin oranges and a jar of fig spread, three suitcases, towels and blankets, my laptop, my camera, a four-foot sandblasted tree trunk, and the reason for this whole miserable trip: Alex, our iguana, who can't fly because iguanas can't pressurize their eardrums. She was crammed into a small cat carrier, and was not happy about it. (And believe me, you can tell when an iguana is not happy.)

I finally got on the road at 12:30pm, about four hours later than I wanted, and I hadn't gotten two blocks from the house when Dawn called--she was in Pennsylvania. I told her I hated her, and I should be there in four days.

We were on the road for about an hour when Alex had an 'accident.' Now it doesn't take a genius to figure out that before you take your pet on a four day car ride, you probably want to make sure they go to the bathroom first. I am not a genius. So instead I spent 15 minutes driving around Chino looking for a gas station that provided water (an increasingly rare beast) and cleaning out her cat carrier. Meanwhile, I let her run around in the car, and she managed to attract quite an audience. If I'd stuck around longer, she might have made the local news--it didn't look like anything more interesting ever happened in Chino.

Around 5:30pm, my odometer was tantalizingly close to 100,000 miles, so I pulled off the freeway in the middle of the Mojave Desert and found a nice secluded road to take a photo of the dashboard with a wonderful background of some cacti and a sunlit mesa. Unfortunately, the odometer was not quite 100,000, so I spent five minutes doing donuts on the road. In the middle of the Mojave Desert. In a secluded area. If police saw me, breathalyzers would have been involved.

A couple of hours later, I was crossing the Arizona border. For some reason, I always like to get a picture of me and the "Welcome to..." sign. Unfortunately, they only put those signs on the freeways, so this always involves some combination of parking the car illegally, balancing the camera on the car, hitting the timer button and running like a fool to the sign, smiling for a second, then running like a fool back to the car. Today had the added excitement of running to the sign and turning around just in time to watch the camera slide off the car and take a two-foot fall onto the asphalt. The camera survived but the lens did not, so now all remaining photos will be using the long telephoto lens.

At 10:30pm, in the middle of Arizona, miles from anywhere, my "check coolant" light came on. Last week I paid to have the cooling system flushed, so I was a little irked about that -- after all, I'm not taking the car back -- but mostly I was just terrified that my "check coolant" light was on at 10:30pm in the middle of Arizona, miles from anywhere. I searched again for a gas station that offered water (this time in vain) but did find a store that sold coolant, so now I have a gallon jug of coolant stuffed in the trunk as well.

At midnight, it was obvious I was not making it to Las Cruces, so I changed my plans and headed for Holbrook, which is on Route 66 right by the Petrified Forest. Dawn and I had been here once before, years ago, when we accidentally discovered the Wig Wam Hotel -- cheap, clean, and in a giant cement teepee -- so I knew I had to stay there. Unfortunately, they were closed, which is why I ended up at the Best Western motel.

I checked in, then snuck Alex into the room. When I went for my suitcase, though, I realized that the four-foot sandblasted tree trunk looked awfully suspicious right next to the Petrified Forest. There are federal laws forbidding the collection of any materials from the forest, and I obviously didn't have any proof of ownership of this tree trunk. I thought about sneaking the trunk into the room as well, but that would look even more suspicious, so I finally just covered it up with my jacket. It actually looks pretty good--with a hat, I could use the carpool lane.

So I'm 600 miles into my 2600 mile journey. I'm averaging 24.5 miles per gallon, and 50 miles per hour. I have four alarm clocks set for 6am, and I am hoping that tomorrow I will have fewer issues and will actually make some good time through Gallup, Amarillo, and Oklahoma City. If you're anywhere along I-40, come out and wave when I pass by. Just look for the green convertible that smells kind of funny and has a sandblasted tree trunk in the passenger seat.

P.S. I didn't see a single firework. :-(

Independence Day

First, the good news: Last week's record rainfall did NOT do any significant damage to the mansion. Had it occurred a week earlier, when the driveway was freshly paved, I would not be saying that.

Dawn, however, did not sleep for three days. When you're sleeping in a greenhouse with a plastic roof, heavy rain sounds like bombs exploding. So it was with a weary head and cranky attitude that she arrived in LA last Wednesday, ready to sort through all of our belongings which I had haphazardly boxed and stored in the garage.

Four days of bickering later, and we were ready for the movers. Well, perhaps "ready" isn't the right term. We finally went to bed around 4am last night, and they showed up this morning at 7am. We had already packed the doorbell, so it was some time before they woke us up. The driver had everyone moving like it was choreographed, except for me; I was stumbling around and thinking it's days like this that I wish I drank coffee.

I had to go get more boxes (we've now invested at least $400 in carboard -- I don't know how homeless people do it) and while they were hauling out the furniture, we packed at least another ten boxes. At that point, paperclips were being packed, because it was easier than throwing them out. At about 80 cents per pound to ship, however, I'm going to be pretty annoyed with myself when I'm unpacking.

Now everything is out of the house. (The front lawn is another matter, but the Salvation Army will deal with that on Wednesday.) Tomorrow morning Dawn boards a plane back to Philadelphia, so she can get back in time for the electricians, while I start my trek back east. By the way, my car will hit 100,000 miles about 2pm tomorrow. Wish me luck.

Speedwell Forge Road, June 29, 2006