It's Raining, It's Pouring...

So, it is October here in Oregon. When I first moved here that meant rain for the next nine months--and I loved it. I moved to Oregon because of the rain. I grew up during a 7-year drought in California and it was really uncomfortable. I am a Pisces and water is like air to me. The parched colors of Northern California are forever burned into my brain: bleached ochres, dusty, dark greens, crackling pale yellows and burned-out beiges. (Burn-Out Beige should be on the Color Wheel somewhere). Everything was always covered in a fine powdery dust, the plants, the roads, the cars...I felt covered. I would take baths for hours--the water cooling off only to be refilled two or three times. I would read or find pictures in the vintage-crap burgundy and white marbled tiles of the bathroom. My skin was always dry and my hair was always fried. Seven years is a long time when you're a child, and I thought the whole world was scorched. 

When I look at the weather reports today and see that it is raining in Northern California or L.A.--it is hard for me to believe. If you watch Hollywood movies from the late 70s and 80s, most of which are filmed in L.A.'s backyard and North---you can see the colors I am taking about. Those low rolling hills in the background of so many mainstream movies, covered in dead grass and grasping oak trees--the ochre and the dark green--that's what I'm talking about. I recognize it like a I recognize a childhood pet.

Rain was like a God to me (I am not being dramatic--trust me!) and when I heard of a city where it rains nine months out of the year, and the world was green and teeming with wet life, I packed my bags and never looked back. 

I never planned to stay anywhere for very long--(I thought I had the wanderlust but really I had alcoholism)--but every time I moved away from Portland, I came crawling back--missing the verdant landscape. And I don't even hike! Or rock climb! Or surf or camp or ski or snowshoe or canoe or kayak! I'm here for the rain.

I've already written about how annoying it is when Oregonians want you to qualify every sunny day that comes--What did you do? Did you enjoy the sun? Did you get outside? What did you do in the sun when you got outside? So I won't get into that again.

But the weather here in Oregon has become less predictable--as it has become less predictable almost everywhere. While normally I would have settled in for the wet weather--it can still get warm and sunny--for long stretches of days. Right now Rich and I are racing the seasons, trying to get the cabin into shape, cutting wood, roofing storage spaces. I recently described how excited I was to acquire some bead board for the ceiling of the loft. And how it fell out of the truck onto the pavement in the center of a four-way stop. And how it got rained on and how I didn't know what was going to happen to it. 

This is a continuation of that. What happened to it.

Can I just first qualify that I have a strong emotional investment in rebuilding this cabin--rebuilding the broken and forgotten into something useable and lovely. As a recovering alcoholic, this is what I do every day. Sometimes it goes smoothly and sometimes I hate myself for not knowing how to do something I've never done before. Or I hate myself for not being able to accurately predict the future from my bedroom. Or I hate myself for not transcending the physical plane into a pure state of light and energy when I feel like it.

​All of these personality nuances reveal themselves in the cabin reconstruction. 

So, first of all, the edges of the bead board got a little messed up, but not much. There were a couple of spots that warped slightly, but then relaxed back into place.

My husband helped me store it on the somewhat flat surface of a picnic table, we covered it up with a tarp that evening and when I came back the next day this had happened:

I had much chagrin over this, but, it was only the top sheet and I figured I could still use half of it. 

It took me two more nights of covering this beadboard with this stupid tarp AND ruining the top board to realize the tarp had tiny holes in it. I was a little sweary and throwy for a while after this--but I'm okay now.

HOWEVER--and let me reiterate, I have NO construction experience, and I am learning as I go--which is really my favorite way to learn, even if it's not the most efficient way. (It is imperative that I remember that I will often risk making my own blundering mistakes rather that ask for help. Which is fine as long as I don't act like I am a victim to a lack of information later when things don't exactly work out. Which is also what I do.) So, I am just feeling my way here, getting inspired, thinking I'm brilliant--and then sometimes, feeling really dumb.

Me not knowing stuff has resulted in a few mishaps: 

For instance, it is not a good idea to attach  bead board to the inside of a pitched roof in a damp environment. Not matter what you do, it will sag a little bit and the" illusion of wood" (if there ever was one) will be compromised:

Please ignore, if you can, all the visible nails, etc.--that will supposedly magically disappear when I use my magically disappearing touch-up paint. 

The reason it is so haphazard is because of this (lets see if I can make this make sense--I love diagrams!):

This is the rafter with the insulation above and the first piece of bead board below in white. Notice how the bead board covers the whole bottom edge of the rafter. This means I cannot tack the next sheet up next to it easily.

Underneath the insulation are these really long 2x6's holding up the metal roof. This is only relevant because it makes it difficult to attach anything in the space below them because they are pressing outward.

So, after discussing with my husband, I decided to nail up blocks of scrap wood at intervals along the rafter, and then tack the next sheet of bead board to that. BUT, what I didn't know was the minute it started raining and the air got damp, the bead board would sag slightly because it's not really supposed to be on a ceiling...(see the photo of the saggy board above.)

So, I finally got smart--TOO LATE by nailing scrap boards all along the length of the rafter on top of smaller boards that raise it up off of the rafter enabling it to run the whole way without being interrupted by the 2x6's. 

That's why some of my beautiful fucked up ceiling looks like this...
(my brad gun is searching for a place to attach to lift the sag--but there's nothing there!)

And some if it looks like this... this what I wished the whole thing looked like--but it doesn't. But I will make it work somehow.

With the amount of work I've put into this so far, the sagging ceiling depresses me. But I decided two things: 

1. If it doesn't "correct itself" (I have ways of helping it) when the air gets drier (with the instulation of the wood stove) I can always TEAR IT OUT and call it a loss.

2. It may look a lot different when there is a bed and some shelves, etc. This is a "starter home". I am learning to do stuff now so I can do it better later when we attempt an actual house. So, maybe, it's good enough.

On the good side: The wasps are finally becoming inert! Check it out! They just stay in their little area now.