Not Just Another Campi

Let it snow???

2011-02-03T12:51:00.013-05:00

More like "This really blows!!"

I am referring, of course, to the 60+ inches of snow that the Boston area has had unceremoniously dropped on us... and February has just begun, so we ain't done yet.

I've been fortunate that my little snow blower has managed to chug through the majority of the fallen flakes, but I'm even more grateful that the Snow Gods have looked down on me in pity and have plowed out the bottom of my driveway just about every storm that we've had. I was even more grateful to have had a neighbor snow blow my entire driveway while I was snowbound at my Greek God's house the previous night. I was dreading coming home to a foot and a half of snow covering every inch of my driveway. The look on my face was priceless, no doubt, when I approached the drive and saw that it was completely cleared top to bottom. Yes, blessed indeed have I been this year!

The other issue around town have been roof collapses and ice dams. For those not familiar with what an ice dam is, it's basically when the snow on your roof starts to melt, but then refreezes, only to be covered with more snow, never allowing the water to run off. In some cases having ice dams can cause the roof partially or totally collapse. You usually make the evening news when that happens, and is not high on my list of things I want to experience. Ice dams can also cause roof leaks, such as my friend Cemetery Consorts roof, which unfortunately was replaced just a few years ago, and supposedly included preventative moisture barrier, etc, to help avoid such disasters. Cemetery C has also been diligent in taking a roof rake to her roof to rid the snow & ice to minimize these issues. However, when you have 2 feet of snow all around your home, it sure makes it difficult to maneuver yourself, never mind yourself and a gigantic rake with snow and ice sliding down on top of you.

My roof is fairly new too, and with that moisture barrier stuff as well. And yeah, I've got ice dams to boot. Alas, I have no fancy roof rake... so, at this point, not much I can do to deal with it. Let's all hope that the worst of winter is behind us, and we get a nice long thaw. If not, let's hope that everyone stays safe and experiences as little damage as possible.

And I'll leave this post with a positive note: so far, I've had no issues regarding my furnace or heat, outside of one little issue which was resolved very quickly and without charge...and not by Niccoli Knuckleheads!

It is Indeed...

2010-12-19T08:33:00.010-05:00

A Wonderful Life!

Seasons Greetings from The Campi. As 2010 comes to a close, I realize that my home improvements have been few & far between. I guess in many ways that is good news, for the most part I am satisfied with the work that's been done. There are projects large & small that I had hoped to get done this year, but as I too feel the pinch of this horrible economic downturn, I am unable to make progress.

I'm forever grateful that my home is comfortable, odor free & WARM :-) and that my family & friends feel at home and as comfortable as I do here. I adore having a house full of smiling, laughing friends making it feel more of a home as each year passes.

I'm not sure where the new year will take me, it is an uncertain time for me. I've experienced the low of financial difficulties and the highs of feeling more empowered than I have at any point in my life. As I enter into 2010 and turn 45, truly my midlife years are here. The only sure thing I do know is I'm ready to take on the challenges, for better or for worse, and continue to ride this roller coaster we call life.

God bless to all, may the peace of the season stay with you the whole year though.

Power Platio

2010-09-26T17:01:00.008-05:00

Alright, well first of all, for anyone that has followed me and hasn't given up on seeing future posts... THANKS!! There have been very few projects worthy of posting this summer. The record heat kept the garden/yard from being worked on and lack of funds has kept me from doing anything on my list that I'd like to have done.

Thanks to my brother's purchase of a power washer, however, my platio got a make over recently. It was Dear ol' Dad that got the whole thing started. He had borrowed the power washer from my brother to clean the cement around his pool. Over the course of that weekend, Dad became addicted to it. From the cement, the rims of the tires, to the wooden gate, to the car mats... it if was dirty, Dad power washed it!

He then suggested that we take on the Platio. I was all for it, as my neighbor had recently used one on part of his fence and it looked amazing. Given the condition of the Platio, we had nothing to loose by trying.

So on a beautiful Saturday morning we began the task... first enjoying a cup of coffee and enjoying the view before digging in. 5 seconds into the project, I was hooked. What an amazing difference!! While I was washing, Dad was replacing popped up nails with new deck screws. After several hours, we quit for the day. Dad said he'd be back the following Saturday and we'd finish up then.... except he didn't know that I had a new love in my life.... Mr. Troy Bilt Power Washer.

Troy and I were up early Sunday morning finishing up the platio and moving on to the side of the house... and then the front of the house... and finally, the side fence.

Everything I asked of Troy, he delivered. Yup, true love! ; )

Now that the Platio has been blasted down to the bare wood, I need to stain/seal her up. Fall is moving quickly, and I know I'm running low on time to get it done, but I remain hopeful that I'll get it done. I guess if worse comes to worse, I'll get out there in the spring with Troy if need be and give her a quick once over before sealing her up.

Would I rather have a nice new deck or 3 season room where the platio lives? Yeah, of course. But for now the platio is looking better than it has in the 8 years I've lived here, so for now I'm satisfied... thanks to Troy.... and Dear ol' Dad, of course! Love ya Dad!!!

Dancing in the Rain

2010-03-15T20:02:00.005-05:00

Today, after 3 straight days of heavy, heavy rains and listening to everyone talk about water leaks, shop vacs and sump pumps... I realized that, for today at least, I'm a genius for buying a house with no basement.

Genius!

For almost the first time in nearly 8 years, a positive experience... something that is going right... something that doesn't require me to shell out the dough!

Although I'm sure once I hit the send button, the roof will cave in! Aw, just kidding. Besides, if it does, I'm still covered by the 10 year warranty on that puppy.

Stay dry out there!

No, No, Nicolli

2010-03-04T18:01:00.008-05:00

Ah, Nicolli Bros. Heating & Plumbing... it's been so long, so good to hear from you! Gee, I thought you forgot all about little ol' me.

What's that?? You're calling to tell me that I owe $600.00, including the $300 I held off paying until the "make good" was, well, made good??

What a popular woman I've finally become! Not just one call from one brother. Nope, TWO calls, TWO brothers. Wow, feeling the love!!

Yes, folks, four months after the fact and the heating guys are looking for their money! Funny thing being that for four months I barely existed in Nicolli's eyes. But now that the heating season is winding down, they are knocking down the door to get to my wallet... to line their vault.

First brother Fred calls, wondering why my bills remain unpaid. "Could I PLEASE call him and explain (again) what it is that they have neglected to do in order to satisfy me" (and get paid). Then, the next day, my favorite bro Jim leaves a message saying how "time has just gotten away from him (for FOUR months) and how he's got a crew ready to come in ASAP to finish up" (and get paid).

Oh, this is so much fun. Really. It's been worth the wait. I'm waiting for the third dwarf, um, I mean brother, Joe, to call and ask for my husband (as he seems to think I should have...) and work out the problem "man to man" because really, what does a woman know about finances anyway???

So I sit before my computer with my word processing cursor blinking before my eyes, fingers to the keyboard and let forth a deluge, crafting a most articulate rebuttal, laced with subtle disdain and a dab of satisfaction (having steered two potential customers away that were looking to update their systems).

I wrote a check for the remaining invoice for a service call I had in December and included it in the letter. But as for the $300 I still owe for when the "make good" was made good... well, it "got away from me" in the four months that have passed.

Consider my account closed boys. And if that's not good enough, I've got the Better Business Bureau bookmarked and the Attorney General's phone number just a speed dial away.

Three brothers against one fiercely independent Campi Queen... who do you think will prevail...

*hint* Never under estimate Girl Power...

Of Mice and Mold...

2010-01-24T13:56:00.014-05:00

Oh,and of course The Smell.
Thrill of all thrills, another smelly mold story! It just keeps getting better folks...

Some back history for those just stopping by the Campi... Through the nearly 8 years I've owned it, my Campi has pretty much smelled, at times faint, and other times, like during the summer, quite overbearing. I've spent years dealing with the mold and mildew issues of the bathroom and floors and this fall I truly believed that those days were over when I removed the last of the nasty carpet and water sealed the last bedroom floor. I was relieved and thrilled... until I came home one night before Christmas and opened the door to a stench that well, was reminiscent of days past.

I figured I forgot to empty the trash or run the disposal, or Little Mr. Man left something somewhere. But alas, it was none of those things. Of course not! No, it seemed to go away after emptying the trash, until a day or two later when it returned. The smell seems to move like a fog, sometimes overpowering, sometime very subtle, coming and going randomly. Incredibly frustrating, and yet so typical of this house where nothing is easy to fix. Many friends at work suggest that perhaps I have a dead mouse somewhere, because some have experienced the same thing, where the smell waxes and wains. Oh joy, a dead carcass in my wall! Fun!

I eventually realize the smell emitting from below the kitchen sink cabinets. Now I know that the dry wall behind the washer, stove and where the furnace once lived was damaged. You can actually see some sections of the studs. A nice access point for say a mouse to wander into and die! So upon a closer look, it appears it was damaged from when perhaps the washer was draining, as if the hose fell out of place or was clogged. The drywall on the opposite side of the kitchen, in my smallest bedroom was also damaged and crumbling down at the base of the wall. After clearing away some of the loose pieces it's obvious that in addition to the possible dead animal there once again is mold to clean.

So I move out the washing machine, stove and microwave cart along the wall and get down and dirty taking the hammer to the wall board, pulling pieces out and getting nervous about what I may find. The first thing I notice is that on the inside of the opposite wall has many areas where mold and mildew is living. As I continue on, I come across an area that has been stuffed with what I can only describe as dark hairy dust bunnies... oh my God, I found the mouse!! Part horrified, part excited, I take the shop vac to it to clear away some of the rubble around it. It's worse than I ever imagined!! It's not a mouse, it's not even a baby squirrel.

No, it's a fossil of a dinosaur!

As I sit there laughing, it stirs up memories of way back when my parents were fixing up their house and we all signed a wall before it was painted over, or in my brother's case, placed a small time capsule behind the medicine cabinet. Little secrets we are never sure if anyone else will ever see. Well, in this case I came across some little one's claim to his house. Come spring I'll give this
silly dinosaur a proper burial out in the garden. He won't be alone, he'll be among the company of several army men that Little Mister Man buried many years ago.

So, back to the story. I am relieved that I don't come across any more piles of ickiness, I deal with the mold with beach and clean up the rubble. I will get back there again in the spring and replace the wall board, but meanwhile I'll let it all air out for a bit.

But the story ain't done there.... as I'm cleaning up, I take a closer look at the pipes running from my sink. They are old and rusty and gross and as I follow them from the sink drain over to the wall, low and behold, what do I see? Don't bother guessing, you probably wouldn't get it anyway. No folks, what I come across is the fact that the drain pipe and the stink pipe (does that have a real name??) aren't connected. That's right, they aren't connected. I probably sat there in total disbelief for 5 minutes before getting closer to examining it. Why, why is it always something so off the charts weird when it comes to problems in this house???

The only theory I can come up with is that the stink pipe, at some point came loose from the supports that hold it in place as it goes up though the roof. At the same time, the pipes get rusty and the pressure of the weight gives in and the stink pipe shifts down, ever so slight, breaking off the threads to the connector pipe. I mean, the damn thing HAD to be connected as some point, right??

The good news in all of this is that at least it's not the same pipe that is connected to the toilet. also now I understand why the smell behaves the way it does. It always seems worse after I run the dishwasher or disposal. People have asked what I plan to do, get a plumber or something. Yeah, right! I got Dear ol' Dad's friend Rube Goldburg to come by and take a look. Turns out cling wrap and duct tape go a long way to eliminate the problem... at least for now!

Thanks for stopping by everyone!

The Season of Spirit

2009-12-07T14:40:00.016-05:00

The holidays arrived at my Campi over the weekend in the form of a tree, many snow men, a warm fire and a hot toddy or two. It's significant to me, in that the last few years I have not felt the holiday spirit and have only thrown the tree up a day or two before Christmas only because Little Mr. Man would have been disappointed to open his presents around the kitchen table! Not sure how I lost the spirit of the season, but I am thankful that this year it is back in my heart.

And as it's been a while since I've decorated, it's like having all new things to brighten up the house. There are things that are newish, from such places as Rite Aid and the Christmas Tree Shops that are mixed with old cherished treasures, like the antique glass ornaments my parents bought when first married. These two sets are still in their original boxes, with the original price sticker that reads: "Hardware, 50¢." (click on photos for larger views)

There are the 2 stockings from the previous owners that were found in the crawl space of the attic shortly after I moved in. I enjoy displaying them, as it reminds me of how magical Christmas is as a child. Simple and beautiful.

My Willow Tree nativity is reminiscent of my parent's which still graces their mantle to this day. We both have an "A" line style stable and are beautifully carved. There are two major differences. One, my parents have a small plastic blue bird whose tail is chewed up that sits at the top of the Stable. It was a toy from a gumball machine that my brother John thought would make a nice addition... and all these years later, it still does! The second is that their set contains the only 3-legged sheep known to man... which I personally think adds tremendous character and value. (You buying this guys?? Mom, Dad?? Hello??)

*awkward silence*

Umm, well, maybe we should move on... quickly!

My maternal grandparent's old metal shovel takes on a festive look as it sits by my pellet stove. And Santa has found a perch to rest on top of my other grandparents old red step ladder. In my bathroom is a whole family of snowmen to keep you company and back in the family room is my patriotic snowman waving the flag with American pride.

My tree is a treasure trove of memories. From all the special ornaments my mom had carefully selected through the years, to the one that she replaced because someone carelessly hucked it from one side of the living room to the other in an effort to pass it to me. Hey Dad, remember that??!! Dad??

Uh, yeah, again, I digress...

An old yellow satin covered orb that brother John and I would always put on first in the very back of the tree (because Mom always insisted that the ornaments had to have "dimension" not just sit on the outer most branches) is still the first ornament to grace my tree, Followed by the ones from my past, to the ones I search out every year for my son, it is an annual tradition to make hot chocolate, turn up the Christmas tunes and trim the tree together.

Such wonderful memories and traditions I'm so blessed to have.

And so with this I will leave you my friends, far and wide, with a small but heartfelt wish that each and all of you find the spirit of this season and share it with those around you. It costs nothing yet is the best present you can give.

Crankin' up the heat

2009-11-13T19:13:00.023-05:00

Warning: the following blog contains foul language and profanities. . . No Mom, not really! But it is a long post, so go pour a cup o' joe and get comfortable. It's the story that many of you have been waiting for.

Three weeks have nearly passed, and my anger has long since boiled over and evaporated. I needed time to let the memories fade a little before sharing them, otherwise the entry would have just been a long winded angry rant, and that's just not my style. In general, my style is pretty laid back, finding humor in everyday stuff. I believe in hard work, respect and honesty, and I expect that back, especially when shelling out my hard earned money. I am not the type of person to yell and scream when something goes wrong, but rather try to be understanding that sometimes things go wrong, or get screwed up... just fix and move on.

Keeping that in mind, I continue with my story...

When I last wrote, I had opted to wait for an extra few days to have the furnace relocated instead of having a temporary oil line installed. My reasoning was simple, if my furnace were temporarily "fixed" my wait time for the furnace to get moved would have been extended by weeks, if not months. And there was no chance I was going to go another winter with furnace issues. And with that decision I was told by the company's owner, Jim, that they would be out by mid week the following week. This was a Friday afternoon.

This company has a reputable business, have been around for many many years. I've had my oil delivered by them for several years, as well as had many service calls, ie: spent lots of money. I had some misgivings about them after the miss communications over the last week, but was willing to forgo them, after all, s*it happens. I normally keep names out of my blog, for privacy reasons, but after weighing how I was treated and continue to be treated (three weeks later), I feel I'm doing a service to anyone that may search for reviews or comments regarding this company. The following is a true story, with no embellishments. This is how Niccoli Brothers in Brockton treated me.

By the following Wednesday, I still hadn't heard anything about when they were coming, so I called and was told that it was written down that they would be out the following morning. Great! I tell my boss I'll be taking Thursday and Friday off to be able to oversee the work, and be available if there are any problems. As Jim wasn't in the office, they said to give him a call in the morning to find out what time to expect them, which I did. Jim tells me he's "hoping" to get the crew over in the afternoon. Which is fine, it gives me time to clean out the areas they need to get into to work. Come afternoon I call again and I'm told that they won't be able to make it. I tell Jim that I took the days off specifically so I would be there, and he tells me I can leave a key, that his crew is responsible, etc. Well, that may well be, but the way I've been put off isn't leaving a good taste in my mouth, and I'm absolutely not comfortable with it. So Jim reassures me that they will definitely be out the following day.... which by 12 noon they still weren't.

Keep in mind, it's now been over a week I've been without heat & hot water. It's been a complete inconvenience boiling water for dishes, finding places to shower and do laundry. Thankfully, my 16 year old spent the majority of time at his dad's house, so there is one less thing to worry about.

Anyway, I once again call Jim, because apparently he doesn't know he can make outgoing calls to customers, and he tells me the crew will be out that afternoon... he promises me. And true to his "word" three guys do show up.... however, the foreman, Joey, informs me that there is an emergency that he needs to get to. He instructs the other two what he needs to get worked on, and off he goes. And true to Jim's "word" again, the crew IS great. All three were polite, neat and courteous. Unfortunately, it's already late in the afternoon on a Friday and it's obvious that this isn't going to be done... I'll have to go the weekend without what I once took for granted.

They did manage to disconnect the furnace and physically move it into the garage on Friday. But they needed the carpenter to come out to cut the hole in the roof for the pipe, for which I was told would be here mid Monday morning. At this point, I can't afford to take any more time off, and since the crew is respectable, I hand off the key to Joey Monday morning. He promises me that when I come home after work (after working until 7pm) I would be able to take a hot shower. I spend the day at work daydreaming of lathering up and wiping the steam off my mirror (My X-rated dreams of late).

However, come 5:30 I get a call from Jim telling me that he "hates having to make this call" because the carpenter NEVER showed up so the furnace was still NOT connected... no heat... no hot water... I'm ready to blow a gasket at this point, why am I just finding out now?? I've owned my own business, I've had to make these types of calls. It doesn't matter that the carpenter is someone they farm work out to, it still comes down to the company being responsible. Again, yelling and screaming isn't my style. I tell him how sorely disappointed I am, that I expect that he'll make up for all these inconveniences and that I expect the job WILL be done Tuesday. He will call me the moment the carpenter arrives at my house, and I'll leave work and remain there until the job is done. He tells me he agrees and he'll take care of it, blah blah blah (that's what I hear)

I get the call around noon, he's finally arrived. I head home and am greeted out front by Joey, who, by the way, is the nephew of the owner. He apologies up and down, left and right. And I know he's sincere. He felt horrible that his promise was broken, that he can't believe how out of control this job had become. And as we're talking, the carpenter, who is up on the roof, yells over to Joey saying "Wow, I thought Jim said there was an irate old woman living here," apparently surprised that I wasn't up on the roof screaming at him. My jaw drops to the ground, Joey turns to me and with total horror says "Tell me he didn't just say that!" I am once again blown away, I walk into the house where I nearly burst out in tears. (A week and a half without heat/h2o takes a massive toll on one's well being and I'm thinking I'm close to a break down.)

By the time I come out, the carpenter is gone... thankfully having finished his part of the job, and escaping my wrath. Joey is beside himself and assures me it will be done. This was around 2 o'clock in the afternoon. He and another tech were busy little beavers, and a few hours later a third shows up and joins in the fun. It wasn't until 8:30 that night that Joey gives me the OK to turn on the heat and run the hot water. He's not fully done, he tells me he'll personally be back on Saturday to tidy up and insulate the pipes. I know he's doing that on his own time, and it means the world to me. I go to bed after a load of laundry, running the dishwasher (filled with dirty dishes from 2 weeks ago) and finally, a long hot shower. Ahhhh!! Life as I'd known it restored!

I expected that I'd hear from Jim the following day, to follow up and to grovel for my forgiveness, but apparently I have too high of expectations, because the entire day goes by without a word. The following morning I call, but he's not in the office, so I leave a message. When I get home from work later on, amazingly the bill for the work is ALREADY in my mailbox. Floored, I open it, and even more floored to see that Jim took off a lousy $175 off a $4,000 job that left me inconvenienced for 2 weeks.

One hundred and seventy five dollars!

Now I know some may say that I'm being sexist, but I know that he'd NEVER have tried getting away with that if I were a man. Of course, most men would have bitten this guy's head off long ago. Maybe most people too. Maybe I am too patient, too much of a push over. But regardless, he thought he'd get away with this?? Ha!

Boy, was he wrong. By the time he returned my call, I'd had plenty of time to get worked up. Those that know me know that I can be pretty damn patient, but when I lose it, you don't want to be on the receiving side. And that's exactly where Jim ended up. I told him how thoroughly disappointed I was with him, that I should have been called after the job was complete to see if it was acceptable, to apologize again, to verbally tell me how he was going to compensate me. I shared with him what an unprofessional person the carpenter was, I told him what he said and how insulted I felt, not just by him but by the entire way I was treated, outside of the crew, which again I can't say enough of.

I went on to tell him how I work with many people that live in the area and that they were aware of how badly this job went. I told him I write blogs on home improvement, with over 10,000 hits and how I'd hate to have to write a review using his name knowing that if anyone Googled it, my story would come up. I told him my patience and understanding being abused was unacceptable, that a lousy $175 off was insulting.

I told him I wanted him to install the additional radiator in my family room he had quoted for me ($300) to compensate me for I've been through. He promised me that he'd do it. That it wouldn't be for a few weeks because the busy season had begun, but that he'd get it done before the really cold weather set in, and I was OK with that as it's not something I need to have asap. But I was told it would happen, and after all, didn't I just get through saying that it was unacceptable to abuse my patience??

Saturday came, and so did Joey, just as he promised... and apologized again. He told me he was in the room when Jim called the carpenter and how not only did he get a "new one drilled", that the company would no longer be doing business with him again. He thanked me for all my patience. He then went about his business on his day off and finished up.

So, that brings us to 3 weeks later, and still no call from Jim... maybe he thinks that's OK. Maybe he thinks I calmed down and forgot. But what I do know is that my bill will remain unpaid for quite some time. I'm sure I'll eventually get a call. I'll tell them to expect it in a day or so, and then when they call back, well, shucks, I musta forgot. Two can play this game... And in the end, if need be, I'll just take my discount... what I see as just compensation.

And if he doesn't like it, well... I'm OK with that.

One Day it's Here...

2009-10-31T14:57:00.010-05:00

... and the next day it's not. Or at least two weeks later it's not!

I am referring to my furnace, of course. As mentioned in my previous post, my furnace had a small leak, that if it had not been detected would have ruined my laminate wood floor. As it were, it did a small amount of damage, thankfully all of which can be repaired.

Anyhow, the tech came out and replaced the part and all was well in the world again, for about a day and a half anyway. I came home the following Wednesday to no hot water. I attempted to fire up the furnace, but to no avail. The following morning I put in another call to the burner company and was told that someone would be by after I got home at 3:30 that afternoon. However, by 5:30 I began to wonder just how off schedule the tech could possibly be. I placed a call, got the "emergency service" line and had to leave a message. This is the beginning of my horrible experience with the company. Someone calls me back and when I ask where the tech is, I was told that he wasn't coming... that no one had been scheduled to come out to my house at all. The person I spoke to checked with the other guy I dealt with in the morning, Joe, and he told me that Joe must have misunderstood me. He thought I had to check with my husband to see if I wanted the work done.

Now, I have to laugh, despite being pissed off, because outside of NOT having a husband, thank you very much, I can't imagine why I'd have to check with him to see if I actually wanted to have heat & hot water. I thought we no longer lived in the stone age where men dragged their woman around by the hair, but maybe I'm just confused.

So after getting over the shock of this last comment, I tell the guy that I expected someone to come by, after all, it was their error, and a big one in my book. It was pretty chilly out, and both my son and I need showers. He said there was absolutely no way they could get someone out there. By now, I'm floored. I remind him it's their error and again he tells me there is nothing they can do for me that night. They can be there first thing in the morning, except that I need to be into work by 7. He tells me I can leave a key. Now, come on... I'm a woman, a woman without a husband to make all the decisions... He thinks I'm gonna just leave a key?? Umm, yeah, I don't think so. I tell him that I'll be home by 3:30 the following day and that someone better be there and on time.

After stewing for a bit and calling other burner companies, all of which would charge me emergency rates and not guaranteeing they would be able to fix the problem that night, I curled up under a few layers of blankets and went to bed.

3:30 came and thankfully so did the tech. However the problem is that the overhead oil line is taking in air somewhere and because of that, the burner won't prime and stay on. This is ultimately what the issue has been all these years. It all goes back to the Packrat's half-assed installation of this system. It turns out that the company that did the job didn't bother to replace the overhead lines, but instead spliced them together, which apparently is a huge no no. That I've managed to go the 7 years I have and not have it permanently shut down is a miracle. It's also a miracle that I haven't taken a sledge hammer to the darn thing, but I digress...

The owner of the burner service company, Jim, calls to tell me that I can have a new line run overhead from the garage to the kitchen. I think this is a total waste of time and money. After I saw what damage was done with the water leak I decided it was time to move the furnace all together. They had priced it out for me about a year and a half ago. I tell Jim that I'd rather just move the burner. I realize it's coming into the busy season and that it would take some time to schedule the necessary crew, but it was worth a few extra days of inconvenience. My son had headed to his dad's for a few days and I could use the shower at my parent's or my brother's homes. It's Friday afternoon. Jim tells me work should begin on the following Wed. or Thurs. I can survive that long. I've got my pellet stove for heat, and I can boil water for dishes and washing. People have suffered through worse... I'll manage.

So I begin my wait. And this is where the fun really begins... Stay tuned.

They call this Progress??

2009-10-10T18:21:00.004-05:00

Today marks a milestone at the Campi. Today, I removed the last of the nasty carpet and tiles from the house.

I could get all nostalgic and misty eyed about how I'll miss never being able to smell The Smell, or how there is no more carpets or tiles to rip out of this house... but I don't think so! No, as I ceremoniously tossed the last of the carpet out the door and brought out the last bag of tiles down to the curb, the corners of my mouth began to turn upwards into a smile... my little Campi has one less problem, one less project....

Until I realized that the GD furnace wasn't working... again. Yes, despite my having it cleaned & tuned up over the summer, the evil creature that resides in my kitchen realized it's fall and soon I'd be turning it on for the heating season. This time, among other things, it's leaking water out of a release valve. The guy at the oil company said so long as it doesn't blow and start shooting water all over the place I should be able to hold off on them coming out until Monday to take a look. But if it does blow, I may want to call. Gee, do ya think??

Because the water has been leaking for some time, a part of my laminate wood floor (hidden from everyday view) has been ruined. I'm pretty frustrated at this point, and I think I've decided that the time has come for me to move this blasted thing out of the kitchen. I got a quote to have it done last year, and as much as it is to have it done, it will still be cheaper than waiting and having to replace the entire system in a few years. So when the oil guy calls back on Monday I'm gonna put the wheels in motion to get this thing moving.

Hey, it's just money, right??

Boring Flooring

2009-09-20T19:04:00.005-05:00

Yep, another post about floors... I'll keep it to a minimum, promise.

Finished Little Mr. Man's bedroom floor this weekend. Now we're down to just the small bedroom to finish. Hoping to get in there very soon to start the process of ripping out the carpet & tiles and get the temporary carpet in there for the winter. Must stay motivated even though I am sick of floors at this point.

Anyway, without further ado, here are the final photos of the floor. The first is the plastic moisture barrier, followed by the finished floor.

He's already moved in all his "stuff" and I'm sure in another week or so I won't even be able to see what was accomplished.

And, as always, thanks Dad... Love you!

Smell Be Gone

2009-08-16T17:36:00.019-05:00

I can honestly say for a while there, I never thought this day would get here... the day my bedroom floor was finally laid down.

This project started back in September of 2005 out of pure necessity... to sleep in a room that didn't smell of mildew most of the year, and reek of it in July and August. Back in 2005, Dear ol' Dad and I had finished the floor in the family room and had a huge area rug that was no longer needed in there. I got it in my head to pull out up the gross carpets and tiles in my room and use the rug "temporarily" having no clue that nearly 4 years would go by. Between other projects, lack of funds and Dad and I both finding time to get together, it got pushed to the back burner. The smell was fine for the better part of the year, but then there would be those days, those hazy, hot, humid days. You know, the days where there wasn't enough Febreze or scented oils in the world to mask what lurked below.

So now here we are in 2009 and after 2 days in 90 degree weather, we finally finished. Dear ol' Dad was set up with the saw in the "Cutting Pavilion" (lol) and I was forced to stay in the air conditioned bedroom where I tapped in the pieces as he gave them to me. It's not that I wouldn't mind being the "cutter" but between Dad being Mr. Tap-Happy with the heavy hand chipping planks left and right, and the risk of me cutting off my arm or in the very least my finger, we settle into our jobs and work like a well oiled machine.

Sort of...

This years Tap Happy Award goes to me, who didn't destroy any planks by tapping too hard, but crushed the fleshy part of my hand between the metal hammer and the metal pull bar, leaving a circle of purple surrounding a 1 inch line of red in the middle. I do, however, get points, for not uttering one or even a string of swears. Nope, like the professional I am (ha), I finished tapping in the piece and left for the bathroom... where I silently screamed while running cold water on my hand for 5 minutes.

Of course, if that wasn't bad enough, on day 2, I managed to slam my finger between the afor mentioned hammer & pull bar. It was my left hand both times, so it shouldn't be so bad, at least in theory. I can't believe how much I actually use that part of my hand.

But I digress...

It's at this point I wish to say thank you so much to my dad, my Dear ol' Dad, for all his hard work, patience and undying faith in me. I love you so much. You'll forever be my role model and inspiration. I can't begin to thank you, but I'm sure a case of Bud will go a long way to help.

(Click any photo for larger image.)

Holy Moldy BatGirl!

2009-08-14T16:16:00.008-05:00

As if I don’t have enough to do in order to ready myself for Dear ol’ Dad and finishing my bedroom floor, my son has finally seen, or more like smelled what I’ve been telling him for years… that his room is a pig sty and smells. He’s only coming to realize this because I put it out there that if he finally cleaned out all the toys he’s outgrown and gets rid of all the clutter, I would consider putting the old TV in his room.

Amazing what bribery can accomplish.

Soon after he digs in he finds, down by the side of his bed, a furry little clump of mold that obviously came from contraband he snuck in despite me constantly telling him no food in his room. He’s horrified by this latest discovery and thinks it all due to the moisture issues we’ve had with the carpeting. He’s so horrified, in fact, he tells me he refuses to sleep in his room anymore until the carpet is removed.

Seeing as he’s heading over to his dad’s for a few days, I tell him I’ll get started on striping out the carpet and padding and pop off the tiles so I can waterproof the concrete and prepare his floor for the next time Dear ol’ Dad is available for a project.

Seeing as it’s August, and the heat and humidity is through the roof, it makes perfect sense that I tackle this project. I mean after all, it seems like every time I’ve ripped out the carpets it’s been this exact kind of weather! But on the other hand, this might just be the right time. By finishing off my room, and prepping Mr. Man’s, I will be able to take the temporary rug I’ve been using over the concrete floor in my room and transferring it to his until such time as it gets finished.

I was able to get about half his room stripped down to the concrete and bleached the other day. Mr. Man came home for a night, moved everything to the “clean” side and slept on the couch before heading back to dads’ for the weekend. I’m hoping to get the other half done on Sunday, as he’ll be coming home for the week for vacation.

Meanwhile, Dear ol’ Dad is heading over tomorrow morning so we can begin finishing off my floor. I can hardly wait, as my room has been in disarray for the past week. My dresser and vanity have been moved out to the 3rd bedroom and my bed has been pushed into the middle of the floor at an angle so I could still access my closet. I’ll be pushing it up against the back wall tonight so we’ll be ready to go first thing in the morning.

As always, I’ll be sure to document the events for your viewing pleasure. Meanwhile enjoy a few of Little Mr. Man’s room. The bottom one is the concrete foundation before it was vacuumed and bleached down. The dark spots are from where the adhesive was for the tiles. The white stuff is concrete dust from where the moisture was forcing it's way up through the seams of the old tiles. I don't have a picture of it after it was vacuumed up and bleached, but looks much better than this.

Garden Living

2009-08-02T16:08:00.020-05:00

Well, it's been a while since I've updated here. Between rain and humidity, not too much has gotten done around the Campi.

Planning on laying down the laminate flooring in my bedroom with Dear ol' Dad in the next few weeks. For those that don't know or haven't read that far back, the carpeting in the house has serious olfactory issues in the heat and humidity due to the concrete floor no longer having much moisture protection after all these years. I've re-floored the living room, kitchen and familyroom and only have the 3 bedrooms left... and I can hardly wait. I've managed for the past 7 years to deal with this, and for most of the year it's really a non-issue, but during the summer, especially this summer with the rain and humidity I'm ready to move on this project. I'll upload photos and keep you posted.

Meanwhile, for your viewing pleasure, here's a look at this year's annual yard/garden photos. Enjoy and thanks, as always, for stopping by the Campi.

Click on each one to enlarge.

Cat Scratch Fever

2009-04-28T19:20:00.014-05:00

So tonight after dinner I decided to take the camera out back to snap a few shots of the flower bed I revamped during school vacation last week. I've got one other bed in that area I need to update, but I need to find some free time, some dirt and yes, a few rocks before I can tackle it. Here's a pic of the first bed.

While I was out back, one of my "outdoor" cats came by to visit. As some of you know I have my indoor cat "Autumn" but during the spring and summer I also have outdoor cats. I don't know most of their real names, so I've dubbed them each with a special nickname that suits them. Tonight, one decided to stop in for a roll in the mulch. I wish I had a "before" photo of this cat, but since I do not, you'll have to use a little imagination to guess why I call her "hairball". Well, my neighbor took this poor cat to the vet to have her trimmed her fur was so matted. When they came out of the office, this is what sweet Hairball looked like:

She reminds me of the Lion King, with her big mane around her face, fuzzy paws and feather duster tail. She's so precious and tiny under all that fur, I had no idea.

While I was snapping photos another one of my outdoor cats got herself into a bit of trouble by getting stuck up in a tree. Her name is Shelby. (no clever nickname for her) So after a few minutes, Hairball notices that the other is stuck up in the tree. And what does she do, but climb up the tree, touch noses with Shelby and then manages to climb down, showing the other cat a way out of her predicament. Sure enough, a short while later Shelby made her way down.

It was like watching Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom right in my own backyard.

Amazing!

And like that...

2009-04-11T16:52:00.004-05:00

... it's gone.

My crocus, that is. About a day after posting about my flower the landscape guy came by with his crew to clean up the back yard.

Avid Campi reader: "Oh, a landscaper, really? How nice you can afford that luxury!"

Avid Campi owner: "Nope, not rich, just pressed for time." LOL, If I were rich, do you think I'd be living in my little Campi?? : )

No, the landscaper is a luxury I've allowed myself to have the past two years. After 5 previous springs of back breaking, leave blowing, bag filling and overall sense of accomplishment, I decided that my time was more valuable than spending weekends well into the spring, filling over 100 brown bags and doing damage to my back.

It works out well since I'm the only person here to do this task along with all the other tasks that need to be taken care of. I'm not bogged down doing leaves, when I can get out there and start fertilizing and planting earlier. Oh, and getting out of bed in the morning isn't as painful either!

So, anyway, back to my croci... The landscapers came by while I was at work, with their blowers and dethatching, acorn sucker-upper machine and did an amazing job of making my backyard look great even if it is still mostly dormant and brown. However, my poor little crocus that mysteriously showed up in the middle of my yard must have been ripped up when the sucker-upper drove by. Talk about a short season! RIP little flower, maybe I'll see you next year.

In other news, just wanted to shout out to all that have commented lately. LOVE hearing from you, especially my fellow Campi owner. That is awesome that you have photos of the original cabinet fridge!! How cool is that!

I wish that other frequent flyers to my blog would stop in and say hello. I'd love hearing from you.

April Fools?

2009-03-31T18:24:00.006-05:00

So over the weekend, I was poking around the backyard deciding what to do about the massive amount of leaves in my yard, when out of the corner I saw something.

At first, I didn't know what to make of it, my eyes playing tricks with me, perhaps? But as I grew closer, I witnessed what could only be a gardener's miracle. Bending down, I gently pushed the dead, wet leaves that were covering what turned out to be a single crocus growing right in the middle of my lawn.

So odd and out of place, especially since I have never planted or had crocus' in my yard before. But sure enough, it's pretty little face was looking up towards the sun defying the odds, whispering that spring is right around the corner. What an amazing thing it is to have just a smidge of color in a vast world of browns. It brightened up the rest of my weekend.

Spring Fever

2009-03-09T10:16:00.004-05:00

OK, so over the weekend it was in the 50's, sunny and beautiful. Today it's a "wintery mix" and in the 30's. Welcome to New England people.

Anyway, over the lovely weekend I definitely felt the inner-gardener in me start to wake up from her hibernation. And since I haven't posted anything of any relevance to the campi in a while, I figured I'd post another photo video of some changes to the yard I've made during the last 7 years.

Yes, I am still here...

2009-02-10T13:39:00.002-05:00

Just an update, mainly for my parent's sake who are down in Sunny FLA enjoying nice weather, unlike myself or the rest of New England.

To review:
Heat - working
Roof - not leaking
Snow - melting
Garden - defrosting
Little Mr. Man - behaving
Ms. Campi - surviving

Think that's it from here, for now. Not much going on around the Campi, waiting for spring before delving into any projects. Thanks to all my loyal readers who keep checking in on me, I appreciate that you take time from your busy day to come visit.

Short End of the Stick

2009-01-06T17:20:00.008-05:00

This past weekend, I went to an open house across the street from me. It's the same L-shaped style Campi as mine. The woman that lives there bought the house a little over two years ago. The market had cooled down some, but prices were still high. The original owner listed it at close to $300,000, before finally accepting the $250,000 offer the new owner offered.

The new owner moved in, (I believe she is married, but not 100% sure) did some fairly major work like taking down several huge trees, fencing in the property, paving the driveway and finishing off a large chunk of the garage that had been left undone from the previous owner. She made it into a large master bedroom. The rest of the garage had already been converted into a dining room right off the kitchen.

Anyway, the Realtor told me it was to be a "short sale" because apparently the husband or boyfriend lost his job. They have it listed at $206,000. How disheartening for this poor woman! (I don't feel bad for the bank, they deserve the short end of the stick taking a loss after handing out all those ridiculous loans in the first place.) I feel for her, as well as several other homeowners in my neighborhood whose homes are on the market for similar reasons. For all the issues I have with my Campi, I know I have been fortunate to have a home I can call my own. God willing, I will not loose my job, despite the declining economy and be able to hold on to this place.

So, cut to the chase... The real reason for posting is, of course, to revel in how much nicer my house is. Although I would like to have that much larger master bedroom, I'd loose my comfy family room. I did like that the washer and dryer were relocated into the small bedroom creating a nice laundry area. (Dad, are you there??)

The kitchen had been updated with new cabinets, but the furnace was still smack dab right there, so it's not really that great. (Another reason I'd rather have my family room with garage set up. I still have the option to relocate the furnace at some point. Right Dad?? Dear 'ol Dad??)

The remainder of the house was really nothing to write home (or blog) about. The decorating was, well, let's just say not my style. I walked away with a sense of accomplishment and pride, although I wonder what people would say about my home during an open house.

Perhaps "Oh wow! This isn't Just Another Campi!"

Heat Wave '09

2009-01-01T18:46:00.007-05:00

Breaking News: Earlier sightings of icebergs surrounding the Campi were highly over exaggerated. In reality, only the owner and her faithful feline companion were frozen solid. This story when we return from commercial break.

To update the story first reported only on Channel 33 News, the owner and her cat were rescued from imminent doom by the local burner service. Later, when asked what would they do now that the heat had been restored to tropical temperatures, the word on the street was they were off to strip down and defrost. Thankfully, we only have footage of the cat...

Windy, Snowy, and Cold

2008-12-31T18:25:00.005-05:00

The wind and the snow are outside... the cold is on the inside. I came home from work tonight to find that my furnace has once again decided to tell me whose in charge around here, and, once again, it's not me.

So far, temp's holding at 62* down from 63* an hour ago. Furnace guy can't get out until Friday. He says it's New Year's Eve. Duh, like I don't know that. And if it's new year's eve today, that must mean tomorrow is... *gasp* New Years Day! And of course that means that they won't be able to come out then either.

In all seriousness, I've got my reliable pellet stove in the family room. I've got blasting out the heat as I write. I've got several ceiling fans going in an attempt to move the heat to the rest of the house. I've also got my pipes dripping in an attempt to keep them from freezing. It's not the end of the world that they can't make it out. I know if I made a big enough stink about it, someone would be here. I'd be paying about as much as just buying a new furnace for some stupid little replacement part, so I'll manage for now. We'll see how it goes.

I'm not too concerned about me, I can snuggle up in the family room for the night with the cat. Might even be fun if I drink enough champagne to pass out before the new year. Maybe I'll make this an annual thing, shut off the heat and pass out in the family room every new year. Maybe I'll invite some friends next year. Ooohhh, I'll call it a House Warming Party, and depending on who I invite will determine how hot it will get!! LOL, yeah I can see it now... me and the cat shivering alone again! *sigh*

There is a lovely snow storm taking place outside. I took a picture of the house after I came home from work and shoveled. Sort of pretty. I wonder if it gets cold enough inside if it will start snowing in here. If it does, I'll take a picture of that too.

And on that note, as my finger tips begin to loose feeling, I will end this post with a Happy New Year to All, and to All A Good (warm) night.

Holiday Tidings

2008-12-23T13:18:00.006-05:00

For all the masses awaiting a spirited, thoughtful message from the Campi to you during this holiday season, await no more!

I present to you
the Commemorative,
First Annual,
Limited Edition,
ADHD Version of
The Twelve Days of Campi

On the Twelfth Day of Christmas My True Love Gave to Me...
Twelve plumbers plumbing
Eleven pipes a bursting
Ten Little Mr. Men a leaping
Nine lawn mowers mowing
Eight maids a cleaning
Seven swigs of sangria
Six rocks a laying

Five wax toilet rings

Four calls to Dear ‘ol Dad
Three F–bombs a flying
Too little money

And a crazy lady in a Campanelli
_____
From my Campi to you, I wish all my readers, as well as the many random passer-by-ers, a safe, peaceful and magical holiday season. May the new year bring us all better times.

Crappy Weekend, part deux

2008-12-17T18:14:00.009-05:00

So when we last saw her, the toilet heroine was settling down after a harrowing evening. She survived the remainder of the evening and woke refreshed and ready for a relatively calm Sunday. Little Mr. Man and his buddy, Man-Child*, tested the toilet many times over the course of the night, and eventually ran dry after finishing the last of the eggnog. Thinking her troubles were a thing of the past, she puts a load of dirty towels that were used for the flood clean up in the wash before driving her son’s friend home.

After dumping the Man-child off I book it back to the Campi because the Patriots game is due to start any minute, I make a quick pitstop in the bathroom…. Only to find the floor flooded. I know this, because I’ve kicked off my boots and am now wearing soaking wet socks. Cursing the Gods of Plumbing, I notice that my tub has a layer of black gunk caking the entire bottom. Hey, good news! At least I know that my gasket replacement isn’t to blame for the latest mess!

Oh joy, it’s only the sewer backing up into the house!II

Now, normally I’d call the water/utility department and have them make their way over, but there are several factors I needed to weigh before actually calling.

1. It’s 4:15 and the Patriot’s Game is underway.

2. It doesn’t appear to be at the “point of no return”, heck, we can still flush, use the sink and the shower, just not in combination with each other! Little Mr. Man has offered to never take another shower or use the sink again if that helps. (Thanks Bud, big help!)

3. There is no imminent danger of an immediate reoccurrence. Will it happen again? Yes. Will it happen in the next 60 minutes (3 hours in football time)? No.

4. And finally, the scale tipper… The temperature is dropping quickly as a cold front has moved in.

Why does that matter? Like you need to wonder! It’s because I own a Campi.

See, another fine amenity of Campi ownership is having the sewer pipe buried 2 feet down on the outside of the house.

The last (and only, thank God) time this happened was this previous spring and I called the water department to come out because my bathroom was a roaring volcano of, well, crap. It was still chilly out, and of course, it was nightime. Instead of ringing my bell and letting me know they were outside, they just started digging. Digging with total disregard to the fact that I had put in a lot of time and money to ensure that the rain water runoff would drain properly and not puddle up. Didn’t matter to them that there was a layer of gravel and landscape cloth where they needed to dig. Now, I get that they were only doing their job, but ring the freaking bell first!!! I had no idea what they were going to do.

By the time I realized this, the damage was done. They snaked the drain and were on the verge of filling in the hole when I ran out and told them I’d take care of it. They must have thought I was nuts, but there was no way I was going to just let them fill that hole and lose all that gravel.

To move the story along, over the summer, I did my best to salvage as much of the gravel as I could before filling the hole. I never did cover the area with the gravel, I knew this would happen again, and I hadn’t yet figured out a fix that would allow easy access to the drain, and let me cover the area with gravel.

Anyway, back to this weekend…
Because the cold front had moved in, the ground was freezing up quickly, and I would be the one out digging the hole, because I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do it right. I wasn’t up to the task. The weather was due to warm up after the weekend passed, so I chose to plunk my butt down in front of the TV and fire and relax by screaming at the TV.

The following Wednesday morning I’m not due into work until 11, and the weather was much warmer. Raining, but warmer. So I’ll take it. I put the call in, got out my shovel and of course, my plumbers hat and started digging. The boys in the truck musta thought I was nuts when they pulled up, but what do I care? They came, they snaked and they left. One of the guys had some suggestions from other Campi owners on how to Rube Goldberg an easy access point, so I’ll have to give it some thought over the winter and come spring add to my list of things to do.

Until then, I hope I can give my plumbers hat a good long rest.

* The Man-child is my son’s 16 year old friend that goes to sleep baby-face smooth and wakes up with a full beard. It’s quite humorous. Best of all, he loves to cook and makes both me and my son omelets to order. I LOVE this kid, and he’s ALWAYS welcome at the Campi.

My "Crappy" Weekend

2008-12-09T08:33:00.003-05:00

So this past weekend I had to put on my plumber’s hat. Putting on the plumber hat is nothing I ever get excited about, especially because it usually means putting it on at an inconvenient time… like, say when you have 3 fifteen year olds running around the house, all of whom have been drinking juice and eggnog like there is no tomorrow. All of which is ok, when you have a second bathroom. (Note to self: Never buy another house that only has 1 bathroom.)

So, to set the scene, picture a woman with frayed nerves who after a long day of listening to video game music, stupid 15 year old stories and loud bodily sounds due to the afore mentioned eggnog. Picture her putting the final touches on her own dinner and mixing up a nice drink to help sooth those nerves. Picture her as she suddenly stops, wondering why she hears running water and knowing it could only be coming from one place… the toilet.

Now, cut to this woman rushing past the cat who is sitting in the doorway of the bathroom. (Useless cat, she’s just sitting watching the water inch across the floor towards the entryway, like the way high tide crashes up against the sea wall.) See her slosh across the floor to the overflowing toilet to turn off the water. See her cursing the Gods that she didn’t make that drink earlier, that she didn’t even get a sip in before the dam burst. (In retrospect, given the fact that the facilities were closed for repair, maybe it was a good thing.)

After yelling at the kids to bring towels, mop and bucket, I remove the tank from the bowl and find that the rubber gasket that connects them has a rather large hole in it, so large I’m wondering why the toilet didn’t leak before this. I guess it must have been, but so little that it went unnoticed. Not enough to give me a clue about what was to happen, not enough to do something about it before it becoming a major prime time event. No, of course not, where’s the fun in that?

So, off to Home Depot, where they greet me and ask where have I been, it’s been so long. Ha Ha! And there I am, at 8 pm on a Saturday night, dressed in my PJ’s from the waist down, side by side with other similarly clad people buying replacement parts for whatever is ailing them this fine evening. We all give each other a knowing look, a smile of sympathy for their plight, and hope that we get to the register before that couple that is actually out with nothing better to do but buy a gas grill in the middle of December.

Upon returning, I once again pray to the Gods that the part I got will fit and do what it’s supposed to do, since it looks nothing like the one that is currently there. The old gasket thingie had the round middle part, but it also had 4 little feet that helped support the tank on either side of the gasket. The replacement was just a round gasket, no additional supports around it. There was nothing like it at all at the store. I was nervous about removing the old piece completely, so I cut out the old gasket and left the rest attached to the base. I inserted the new piece and set the tank back in place, carefully tightening the bolts without over tightening and cracking the tank. Dear ol’ Dad would get at kick out of my Rube Goldberg fix, and best of all, it worked! With extra towels on hand, and the mop within reaching distance, I tentatively flushed and waited for the Great Flood of ’08. And waited. And when I realized I might actually have pulled this off, I flush again, getting the same results….a bowl full of water and nothing else. Go figure!

Finally, over an hour later, removing the plumbers hat, I reach for my drink and now cold dinner and relax to the sounds of the kids voices resonating around the house. I know they say the sound of gurgling water is supposed to be soothing, but in my Campi, that is NEVER the case. I’ll take the noise of children over that any day.

My Crappy Weekend isn’t over… We still have Sunday, and the bathroom isn’t done with me yet.

Stay tuned…

Thanksgiving wish

2008-11-27T08:58:00.004-05:00

May everyone have a full belly and leftovers to last all weekend.
Enjoy, from my Campi to you.

Holiday Traditions

2008-11-11T11:14:00.012-05:00

SC Johnson has teamed up with HouseBlogs.net for an essay contest about holiday decorating. Those that know me, know that I enjoy creating a comfy warm holiday feeling to my home, fortunate to have many family heirlooms to mix with my own collections.

I have a special holiday tradition, that is new to me since I moved into my Campi. It's actually a part of some other families collection, people that I never knew or ever will. This is the story...

Shortly after moving in to my Campi, Dear Ol' Dad was working up in the attic and crawl space. While up there he came across several little gems of the ghosts of those who previously occupied my Campi. I guess most people who came across this stuff would probably just throw it out, but to me, it's more than just someones old trash. What he found were 2 old Christmas stockings and a Christmas greeting card, all circa 1960's.

To me, it's a true slice of what these Campinelli developments stood for. Young families starting out, raising there children in neighborhoods equally as new and young. Christmas and the holidays bringing hope and joy to all for a bright future. Young Robin and Cheryl may have left behind their stockings when they grew up and moved on to raise their own families, but they left behind a little glimpse of the past for me to enjoy. I envision this family sitting around the tree opening presents Christmas morning. Probably the same toys and games that my brothers and I were also opening up miles away in the home that I grew up in.

Some think it strange or weird, but I hang the "Robin" & "Cheryl's" stockings, along with the card from "Michelle", left half colored in by someone, every year. To me, it brings the warmth of Christmas' past to Christmas present, where new memories are being made with my son and family. Mixing their past with my future.

Peace and happiness to all during the up and coming holiday season.

“This post was written for Houseblogs.net as part of a sweepstakes sponsored by SC Johnson’s Right@Home.”
Visit: www.rightathome.com

November 1st, 2008

2008-11-01T08:52:00.001-05:00

Just want to wish everyone a Happy November 1st. I think I'll celebrate by flipping the furnace switch to on and crank on the heat!
Enjoy!!!

Climate Control

2008-10-24T19:52:00.005-05:00

Hey all, sorry it's been so quiet, I've had a busy few weeks at work, which did result in a promotion of sorts. You know, one of those promotions where you do more work and get paid the same . New snazzy title and those words ringing in your ears of how it's a great opportunity to get noticed and finally advance. Of course, I guess I'd believe it more if I didn't hear it already 4 years ago. But in this market, I don't really have too many options available, so I'll keep waiting for that "great opportunity" while working my butt off as the new "Acting Advertising Services Manager When the Real Manager is Unavailable on Every 4th Leap Year During a Lunar Eclipse". It's better than my old title of "Permanent Part Time Acting Assistant Manager". It sounds more official, don't you think???

OK, 'nuf complaining about stupid stuff like my future. Let's get to the meat of why we're really here... The Campi. I do so wish there were some terribly exciting updates to give, but really all I've done lately is watch my garden die, put the glass back in the storm doors and complain that it's not November 1st when I can put the heat on.

Yes, November 1st. Every year I set a goal that I won't turn the burner on until the beginning of November. Why is this? Why would I do such a ridiculous thing?? Well, this past summer, for example, I needed to fill my oil tank about 3/4 and it cost close to $700. I figure the longer I can go before turning it on, the more oil I'll manage to save for the days when it's REALLY cold. Of course, there are days when I realize what a nut I am. Days when I wake up in the morning and the frost is on the inside of the windows, or when I step outside in 6 layers of clothing only to realize it's warmer OUT than IN.

But it's the principal of it that drives me to hold off until November 1st! I'm sending a message to the oil companies that I'm not putting up with their over inflated petroleum strong-hold they think have on America! As I sit here waiting for my fingers to thaw out, I'm planning the letter I'm going to write and tell them how my boycott will bring them to their knees! Yes, just as soon as I can stop shivering.

Heck, maybe I'll just flip the switch to the burner, after all I got that big 0% raise with my promotion. I can afford to turn the heat on a week early. What?? 0% is only good when you're buying a car? Crap, no wonder why Management was so easy to negotiate my new terms of employment. Time to pull out my snow suit!!

-------
In recent weeks Not Just Another Campi has had a small explosion of visitors from outside the US, and I'd just like to give a shout out to all and say thanks to all for stopping by.

The Biggest Loser

2008-09-21T17:12:00.006-05:00

Well, Campi-Campers, seems that I didn't make it to the Final-Four of DYI. Damn, and I had my acceptance speech memorized and everything.

Good luck to those 4 finalists, may the best DIYer win. With that said, I'm not a sore loser, but 3 finalists out of the 4 that made the final cut were 3 out of the 4 that were always highlighted at the top of the voting site. In order to view any other essays, viewers needed to click the left or right arrows. My personal guess (and I said this to several people before the voting was even completed) that random people that came across the site never bothered to look at the other entries. I mean, even I didn't want to. It took about 3 or 4 clicks on the arrows to get to my entry. Again, I'm not a sore sport, but think it was a design flaw on behalf of whoever designed the page. I hope that next year they set it up differently, where all 20 entries are viewable on one page.

Regardless, I did receive close to 300 votes, many of them from my happy Campi-Campers, and many more from my fellow house bloggers, family, friends, co-workers, the co-workers families, the co-workers friends... and so on, and so on and so on...

Thank you to everyone that supported me.

2008-09-19T05:59:00.002-05:00

Click here to view and vote for my entry

It's not too late, you can still be a part of history!

2008-09-11T15:28:00.010-05:00

Click here to view and vote for my entry

Just a reminder to vote for me in the True Value DIY All-Star Contest if you haven't already.

I still need your support!! It's just a couple of clicks, and really, aren't I worth it??

Just think of it as doing charitable work, beautifying the world, one Campi at a time, or vote just to shut me up and to get on to new, more interesting posts.

Whatever reason works for you, works for me! It's completely anonymous and best of all costs you nothing. What a deal!
Please vote. I'm not above begging, (obviously)

(If you do vote, be sure to click on the button right above my essay. The "click to vote for this entry" not the "vote" button to the right.)

Get out there & VOTE!!!

2008-09-04T12:40:00.008-05:00

Click here to view and vote for my entry

Alrightly folks, time to make your vote count! It's the True Value Starts Right Here Contest

Vote now until September 19. The top 4 out of the 20 will move on to the final vote wher True Value will judge and decide the winner.

Thanks for your support... feel free to pass the word along to friends and family!!

True Value 08 Contest

2008-08-26T17:45:00.005-05:00

OMG! I just found out that I'm a Semi-Finalist in the True Value Starts Right Here Contest! www.startsrighthere.com

This is a different contest from the one I recently posted about. That was a random drawing contest for $300 dollars... which I didn't win. However, when I submitted my post for that contest, I found out about this contest... and who could resist a chance to win $5,000! (Yup, you read it correct, $5,000!!!!) This is not a random drawing contest, my essay was actually chosen to move on to the next round.

This essay is about my kitchen "remodel", my best attempt at making the most out of what very little I had to work with and coming up with a pretty unique and different look. Winning this contest could mean that my "Chain Reaction" project might actually come to fruition!

So here's what I need from you, my loyal readers (and even you readers that happen upon My Campi)... Please, please check out the Starts Right Here site At True Value.com starting Sept 4th thru the 18th and vote for me. I don't know how many semi-finalists there are yet. But I do know that there were 134 entries! I feel honored that I've made it this far.

This is a direct link to my entry. I'll be posting again when the voting opens up to the public, but here's a preview. Not Just Another Campi True Value Entry
Thanks for reading and supporting me and My Campi!

Anniversary

2008-08-01T09:11:00.005-05:00

Just realized last night that I closed on the Campi 6 years ago. I find it hard to believe I've been in this house longer than the one I lived in when I was married. Strange. Where did the time go?

Dad, don't feel obligated to call up and sing the "Anniversary" song. I know you're just itching to. If you do, I'll have to sing it right back to you, seeing it's your anniversary to. How many years have you been in that house? 37, I believe. 1971. Talk about time flying by!!

Chain Reaction

2008-07-29T11:53:00.004-05:00

A few weeks back, I was on vacation. I needed to get the furnace cleaned, so I set up a appointment. No fail, upon entering the house and begin working, the comments begin. Through the years I’ve had many different technicians work on the ol’ girl, inevitably, the same questions spew forth from their mouths. “Who installed this?” “What were they thinking?” and the killer: “Hmm, that’s interesting.” My skin hasn’t toughened up when it comes to my stupid oil burner. It’s loud, its ugly, and of course, my personal favorite, it sits in the center of the house, which happens to be the kitchen.

So, as other techs have said to me, “You know, you could move it into the garage,” to which I have always laughed at, knowing I just don’t have the money for such an extravagance. He goes on to say that it would be less expensive to do it sooner than later, because the furnace is still fairly new (and it’s actually a good burner, it’s just the way it was installed that causes all the commotion.) So I ask him why this is, and he tells me that once the burner has many years on it, it’s not worth moving and the home owner would need to invest not just in getting all the piping and lines moved, but installing a new burner as well. Now, I know I’ve got many, many years before my furnace would be considered too old to move, but at the same time, I thought, what the heck. I’m on vacation, I can set up an appointment to get a quote that won’t inconvenience me, and at least I’ll know for sure that I can’t afford it, even if with my movable burner.

So I called, and he came, and he looked. Now, considering everything, it’s not totally outrageous, under $4,000 (OK, maybe a little, but you people don’t have to live with the beast) I mean, I still can’t move the furnace, even if I happened to have $4,000 lying around. And here’s why…

The Chain Reaction!

In order to move the furnace, I need an open space in my garage, which I do if I didn’t have so much stuff stored in there. So, I’d need a shed (which is on the list of things I need/want anyway) Shed: $2,000

OK, now I’ve got room in the garage, I’m able to move the ol’ girl into the garage: $4,000.

Mission accomplished, right? WRONG! Now my kitchen has this hideous open area where the furnace used to live. It needs something to cover up the big mess. So, while I’m at it, might as well get that dream kitchen with the nice useful cabinets, breakfast bar overlooking the family room, desk/office type armoir. Nothing too over the top, but nice. Let’s be modest on the price, hopefully being able to do a lot of the work myself (and of course Dear Ol’ Dad) $5,000

And of course, if I’m redoing the kitchen, the washing machine that currently lives there needs to move. Might as well get the dryer out of the garage while I’m at it. Both of those can relocate to the office/3rd bedroom, where the washer would still be able to access the same drainpipe as it uses now. This is probably the cheapest part of the whole plan. Outside of labor and Daddy fixing up the electrical issues with the dryer.
Zero Dollars.

So, lets review:
$2,000
$4,000
$5,000
$20 (Case of beer. Gotta give Dear Ol' Dad something for his time)))
---------------
$11,000

LOL! It’s not California Dreaming, it’s Campanelli Dreaming.

PS: If any of you happen to have $11,000 you have no use for, I'm not a above begging.

My Secret... Revealed!

2008-07-18T06:29:00.040-05:00

Many times I'm asked, "What IS my secret to creating a great garden?"

Actually, umm, no one has ever asked. But it also never stopped me from acting like a proud grandparent... I'll pull out my "Brag Book" to show off my garden anytime someone asks what I've been working on lately.

I've taken the time to jot down my secret, just in case there is anyone out there that actually gives a ______!

(Humor me and pretend that you do... please!)

And for those of you that are actually still reading this, I've included a movie or two along with some photos from my album to show the progress I've made over the last 6 years. (Fear not, there are no photos of my mangled toenail.)

_______________________________________________________

MOVIE – Front Yard Transformation

______________________________________________________

BEFORE – (Dead trees make great firewood)
After – Nickie's Garden

_____________________________________________________
BEFORE – Cold, dark, dreary...
AFTER – My Woodland Retreat.
_____________________________________________________

MOVIE – The Sandtrap Project

What?? you're still reading this?? Want to see more?? Hold on, let me go grab my brag book......

This post was written for Houseblogs.net as part of a sweepstakes sponsored by True Value.

The "What I did" Contest

2008-07-16T16:26:00.006-05:00

OK, so Houseblogs.net has announced a contest for people who blog about their house adventures. This is SO totally cool... I can win a $300 gift card from Ace Hardware if I have one of three winning entries. I've seen some of the competition out there, there are some amazing home owners who not only find the time to DIY, but then blog about their adventures, on a much more regular basis than I ever could!

Yes, we House Bloggers work hard and want to show off a little. But also we want to share with other like minded people all the joys and pitfalls of owning and improving our beloved homes, adventures, ideas, suggestions and warnings. Inspiration from others is what keeps us going. Winning $300 bucks is pretty inspiring too. So as much as I admire my co-bloggers, I'm hope to leave them in the dust. After all, it is a competition.

So, my dear readers... and I do know you're out there... including a visitor from Poland, of all places... wish me luck as I write a post about what I think is my greatest DYI accomplishment since purchasing my little Campi. It can be about anything around the house, including landscaping. For those of you that know me personally, you know that my gardens are my passion and what keep me sane... even if my strawberry(s) are smaller than my thumbnail and my toenail has fallen off, because yet another rock was dropped upon it.

Stay tuned...

The Fruits of my Labor

2008-06-28T17:41:00.007-05:00

Anonymouse was recently bragging in her blog about how well her veggies are growing. This year, I too, ventured into growing eatable delights. I thought how nice it would be to pick some dew covered strawberries first thing in the morning to enjoy on my cereal. Mmm...

So off I went, bought, planted and feed my little plant, awaiting the morning I'd be able to enjoy my cold ceral with a special treat.

Lo and behold, the day finally came...

*sigh* So even though breakfast isn't quite what I envisioned, things don't seem so bad.

My Dead Peony

2008-06-16T16:48:00.009-05:00

Not to be confused with My Dead Pony.

No, this is all about my Dead Peony, which lasted LESS than a week.

Oh, and did I mention that whatever ate the first Razamatazz Cone Flower came back and ate the other one.

Life lesson?? Yup. Never travel far from your medicine cabinet when gardening.

My Pretty Peony

2008-06-09T19:03:00.012-05:00

Not to be confused with My Pretty Pony…

This is a story about a pretty newcomer to my garden this year, my Sorbet Pink Peony. In the midst of the recent heat wave of mid-ninety degree weather for the past 3 days, my one lonely peoney bud bloomed while I slept, greeting me when I went to water the garden in the (somewhat) refreshing early morning hours before the blistering sun rose this morning.

I bought this plant at the begining of spring. Peeking out of the pot were several stems, that I naturally assumed would each produce a bloom. Ever since I took up gardening, I've eyed other gardens that had these gorgeous frilly flowers, so when I saw a single pot sitting out at a local garden center, I snagged it immediately. I planted it soon after and watered and fed and loved it, until one day I noticed a bud growing on one of the stems. Anxious, I awaited other buds, anticipating my flowering beauty. I awaited and awaited and awaited, only to find out that it takes up to 2 or 3 years for the darned thing to mature. Sheesh, I've been waiting for years for Mr. Man to mature, now I have to endure waiting for this too? Chances are good that the plant will beat Mr. Man to the Mature Finish Line, but I guess if I've waited this long, than I can manage waiting a little longer. *sigh*

So days turned to weeks and my little bud grew, and grew and grew. The rains came, then the heat, and as I slowly made my way around the yard with hose in hand, my Pretty Little Peony greeted me with it's pretty fuzzy face. It never fails that summer after summer as I go about this ritual of watering and picking weeds, kinda just lost in my thoughts, I'll suddenly realize there is some beautiful flower staring up at me that wasn't there the day before, and in some cases, like with my Peony, sadly won't be there in a week.

Life lesson? Yup. Wake up everyday and be sure to find something that brings you peace or happiness or something that reminds you of how amazing life really is. Flowers fade, the sun sets, people come and go from your life... take everyday and cherish what you normally take for granted, hug the people you love, enjoy the immature teenager while he's still immature because soon enough he will mature and stretch his wings and fly. Take a photo of that single pretty Peony and pull it out mid-February to help warm you and brighten your day when it's cold and snowy.

If that doesn't work, pop a Prozac, that works too.

: )

Koi Update

2008-03-31T12:49:00.003-05:00

Sunday afternoon Tuna Melt passed away. I'm pretty sure it was from a broken heart and being alone after Sushi died on Friday.

Tuna Melt was the complete opposite of Sushi, sleek and graceful with the most beautiful butterfly fins. And whereas Sushi was too hyped up to trust me, Tuna Melt learned to accept food right from my hands, often nibbling on my finger in a playful way.

I'm deeply saddened and miss them both greatly.

Koi vey

2008-03-28T18:24:00.003-05:00

As some know, I had two very special koi fish I got last July. Sadly, tonight, one of them passed away. Tonight, I lost Sushi, the silly chunky orange and black clown of a fish whose personality showed despite the fact that he was a fish.

I've been attempting to fend off his illness for the past several weeks, but due to the cramped quarters that he shared with Tuna Melt, his sister, he became too weak to fight. He died in the palm of my hand and I buried him out in the back yard.

I know how queer this all sounds, but it is truly upsetting to me, these fish were a very special gift, and that little chunka of a fish especially. There is a good chance that Tuna Melt won't make it either. She seems so lonely in that tank without him there goofing around with her.
If she doesn't die from the stress, she'll probably die from being so lonely.

Peace and Joy

2007-12-25T08:19:00.000-05:00

From my little Campi to you, happy holidays to all.

465

2007-11-16T19:01:00.000-05:00

$465.00 = 150 gallons of home heating oil I had delivered this past week. That's only a little over a half a tank folks!

Thank God I only have my little Campi to heat and that I might be able to get away with not needing another delivery until March.

Sorry, I just had to vent.

Reader's Request

2007-11-04T09:26:00.001-05:00

First off, I can't believe people (outside of the one's I pay) read this blog! It means a lot to me to know that there are people like me out there that have nothing better to do. Just kidding. In all seriousness, thank you to all my readers, the regulars and the not so regulars. I'm just waiting for the day when a publisher stops by The Campi and signs me up for a million dollar book deal. HaaaaaHaaa. (sorry, personal joke with Giz and Annonymouse)

OK, back to the post. I got a request to find out more about my kitchen floor. There is a photo of my dad from back in June working on his hands and knees (love ya Dad, your the best!) and the commenter was asking what type of flooring it was, what was there previously and if I liked it. First off, what was there was the original brick-red linoleum. Atrocious! Sadly, it was probably the only flooring in the house that I didn't mind. See, it was the only one where The Smell did not invade my nasal passages.

For those that may remember, from the first time I stepped foot in the Campi, there was an odor, "The Smell" which at first I had hoped was due to PackRats continued used of the broken garbage disposal up until the day she moved. However, once that was fixed, and The Smell continued, I blamed it on the very hot, humid summer we were having. And after the summer faded to fall and despite the rugs having been professionally cleaned, The smell lingered on. Eventually, over the winter it faded (probably more like I got used to it) but come late spring The Smell was back. And I knew there was something funky going on under those rugs.

So over the course of the summer I began my mission to rid the house of The Smell. First I tore out the carpeting in the living room to find the original 12x12 tiled floor. The source of the odor was found. The tiles were actually moist with perspiration seeping from the concrete foundation, many of the tiles were covered in mildew! Keep in mind that I'm doing this during another hot humid summer and I was so tired and hot and would loved to have stopped, but after seeing that I HAD to keep going. So from stripping the carpet I went to popping the tiles off with a hammer and chisle. Thankfully some had already lifted off the concrete on their own so in most places it wasn't so bad. Until I came upon The Grand Canon.

Here is the part where I start to wonder if I'm in over my head! See, I came upon the part of the concrete floor where the original radiant heat pipe had burst and cracked the concrete so that there were large chunks lifted up from the floor. I am now horrified and panicy and call Dear ol' Dad, who comes over and upon inspection tells me not to worry, it's no big deal, he'll take care of it. (Did I tell you what a great dad I have???) So, with that reassurance, I continue on my labor of love removing and bleaching down the concrete. Meanwhile, Mr. Man decides that he was going to have a little fun, turning the Grand Canyon into a battle zone for his plastic army men. (Wow Mom, what a fun house we bought!)

Finally the floor is stripped, sanitized, waterproofed and crater free thanks to Dad filling it up with new concrete. We're ready to go, having decided we'd take on the challenge of installing new laminate floors purchased from Lumber Liquidators. I give all the credit to Dear ol' Dad, who did lots of homework on how to approach this endeavor and make it all fall into place. He did the measuring and cutting, while I did the installing... except for that time he came over while I was at work and he decided to lay the pieces together himself.

**Word to the do-it-yourselfer: don't let the heavy handed man tap the pieces together, you'll just have to come home from work, remove all the destroyed boards and redo it yourself.***

Dear ol' Tap Happy Dad, I still love ya!!

Once we got into a rhythm, the job went very quickly and smoothly, and I recommend this type of flooring, especially for anyone with a concrete slab foundation. I do not miss the wall to wall carpeting and don't really find the floors cold in the winter, as my neighbor thought they might be. It's been four years and there have been no issues with cracks or scratches or shifting. I love the look and feel of them. We later did my family room with the same flooring, but that is a story for another time. We also plan on doing the bedrooms with it as well, seeing as they now have wall to wall and I dread the idea of what lies beneath them!

But, most importantly, I DON'T miss The Smell.

The Sand Trap, part II

2007-10-22T19:12:00.000-05:00

So, recently I was asked by a reader what ever became of my sand trap. For those of you who may not have read or remember, the Sand Trap was the ring of sand the previous owner left for me after removing the decrepit above ground pool. For the first 2 or 3 years my son used the area with his Tonka trucks digging holes, making roads and forts for his army men and whatever else little boys do with sand, dirt and trucks. Eventually he outgrew his love of all things truck and announced that I could reclaim the land. I had been excited about the prospect of finally loosing the eyesore, but leery of doing it because the previous year I had manually shoveled 8 yards of loam to the back area of the yard to even out the holes left from the mine field of rocks.

None the less, I ordered up another 8 yards of dirt (in addition to 3 ton of gravel for another garden project) and set to work. Looking at this pile of dirt in the picture you can't really appericiate the magnitude of just how much 8 yards is. It's daunting when you consider that a shovel and a wheelbarrow (same size as my decorative one in the picture) were all I had to move this stuff around. Having done it the year before was OK, I managed. But a year later, well, it's another year later and I'm another year older and my back is another year older. Well, you get the idea. And pay money to rent a Bobcat? Yeah, not on my Campi budget. Besides, once I drove one of those I'd HAVE to have one!

Anyway, I was motivated to get it done and got the grass seed down by late spring. Overall, by summer's end it came out pretty nice. This past summer I extended my rock wall and added a small fountain in the corner. The sound of babbling water was very soothing. A dear friend of mine bought 2 little koi for my pond, Tuna Melt on the left and Sushi on the right. The small pond pump I used got clogged up pretty bad after they moved in and the waterfall sort of trickled instead of babbled after a while. Also, the fish liked to hide in the very back of the pond, and the only way to view them was to poke a stick in there and get them moving. BUT, I did manage to NOT kill them. They even eventually began to venture out of hiding on their own sans stick, which was nice. I have since taken them indoors for the winter but I plan to expand next year to make a bigger and deeper pond (with a much better pump) that they will truly enjoy.

Anyway, below I created a small slide show to view the progression from one year to the next. I'm huge into before and after shots, especially of my yard, so I really enjoyed putting this together and plan to do it for other area's of the yard that have morphed through the years I've been here.

As for the person that asked about my sand trap, turns out that I'm not the only person that has inherited one from a previous owner. This woman took her "pit" to a whole new level, outlining it with river rocks and breaking down the circle into 4 quarters with paths of river rock dividing them. I was blown away with how beautiful this garden came out. I hope she doesn't mind, I stole a picture from her blog to show you. Her blog is at: http://sowsearhouse.blogspot.com/ and I recommend taking a peek at it.

Boy, how time flies...

2007-10-02T17:30:00.000-05:00

OK all you out there in Campi-land, just wanted to say that I haven't forgotten my duties to fill you in on all the happenings in and around the Campi.

I promise, with the advent of cooler weather, the outside garden projects coming to a close, I'll be back to filling your heads with whimsical, pointless stories.

Meantime, I came across this cool website from Blogger.com that shows a slide show of all the recently uploaded photos to their server. It's quite interesting to see the various photos, some artistic, some basic, artwork and cartoons... all sorts of stuff. Worth checking out if you've got a few minutes. Not sure if you need to be a blogger.com user or just any joe smoe can view.

http://play.blogger.com/

Enjoy. I'll be back soon!!!

RIP Mr. Campanelli

2007-09-04T12:15:00.000-05:00

CAMPANELLI, Joseph, of Brockton, age 88, Sep. 2, husband of the late Margaret and Clara, beloved father of Russell (and his wife Anna Gail) Campanelli of Norwell and Ralph (and his wife Kathleen) Campanelli of Duxbury, stepfather of Carmelina Lampos of South Yarmouth, Alphonse Campanelli of Florida and Eric Campanelli of Franklin, brother of Nicholas Campanelli and Ann DeMarco of Brockton and the late Alfred and Michael Campanelli, grandfather and great-grandfather of many.

Joseph Campanelli, 88, a lifelong resident of Brockton, died on Sunday at home under hospice care after a brief illness. He was the husband of the late Margaret Campanelli and the late Clara Campanelli. Born in Brockton, he was a son of the late Francis and Lisa Marie Campanelli and he served in the U.S. Navy during World War II and returned to employment at Fore River Shipyard in Quincy. In 1947 he became a real estate developer and he and his brothers founded Campanelli Brothers and they built thousands of units of residential homes in Brockton, other Massachusetts cities and towns, Rhode Island, Illinois, Florida, Maryland, Virginia and Arizona. They originated the ranch design including radiant heat and other innovations at the time. In the 1960’s they began a commercial division and built Westgate Mall in Brockton, the first enclosed shopping mall in the Eastern United States. In the 1970’s they built Hanover Mall in Hanover, Massachusetts and Seasons Hotels in Miami and Fort Lauderdale, Florida as well as age 55 plus condominium and golf course communities in Florida. The span of construction also included major highway project contributions to Route I-95 and Route 195. The Blue Hills Regional Vocation Technical High School in Canton and a Marshfield school were built by Campanelli Industries and two of their recent large projects were TJX headquarters in Framingham and Christmas Tree Shops main warehouse and headquarters in Middleborough. Mr. Campanelli enjoyed daily walking at D.W. Field Park in Brockton, playing golf as a member at Thorna Lea in Brockton, gardening, dining out and traveling to Florida in winter. He is survived by two sons, Russell Campanelli of Norwell, Ralph Campanelli of Duxbury, three stepchildren, Carmelina Lampos of South Yarmouth, Alphonse Campanelli of Florida and Eric Campanelli of Franklin, a brother Nicholas Campanelli of Brockton, a sister Ann DeMarco of Brockton, several grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and many nieces and nephews. He was brother of the late Alfred and Michael Campanelli. The funeral will be on Thursday at 8 a.m. from Waitt Funeral Home, 850 North Main St. Brockton followed by a funeral Mass at 9 a.m. in Our Lady of Lourdes Parish and burial at Calvary Cemetery.

Vacation at the B & B

2007-07-09T09:50:00.000-05:00

There is something to be said for vacation. Those few precious weeks of paid time off from the daily grind. Time to do whatever you wish to do, even if it's nothing at all. I was fortunate enough this year to have a week off where the weather was great. OK, maybe a little hot & humid on one or two days, but that's better than rain when you have the day off.

During this vacation The Boy and I made our annual trek to Maine to visit one of my oldest, closest friend and her family for a weekend. Every year she opens up her adorable bungalow style home to me and my son. She has a wonderful yard with a gorgeous wild gardens (complete with giant slugs to step on while barefoot), a bird sanctuary filled with finches, chickadees and woodpeckers, and an adorable firepit to sit around and listen to the kids made up jokes and riddles late at night.

I know this has NOTHING to do with My Campi, but I did promise them I'd give mention to them in my blog (if for nothing else, as a bribe to get them to read it) I wish I had a picture or two of the house and garden to post, as I do love it so, but stupid me never thinks to do that while I'm there. Perhaps next year.

Next post, I promise to get back to the Campi and fill everyone in on what projects I worked on during the rest of my time off. Meanwhile, a great big thank you to the Maine B & B. We had an amazing time once again.

The Platio

2007-06-18T14:34:00.000-05:00

Platio: (n) Plah-tee-oh
A backyard patio that looks like a wood pallet.

On my initial visit to the Campi before making an offer, my girlfriend and I took a quick peek out the back door to size up the yard. It was only once we got back to the office that my girlfriend and I both commented on the deck. We both thought the same thing, it looked like a giant pallet... like one of those wooden pallets that forklifts use to move things around with. Only this one was on steroids.

We began referring to it as simply "The Pallet". Since I was only 2 miles from work, my friend and I would take our lunch breaks there. Several co-workers thought that it was the name of some new restaurant. (I never said I worked with geniuses.) It wasn't until a few weeks later, a group of my friends were over and The Pallet morphed into The Platio, claiming that it's part patio, part pallet. Thus "The Platio" came to be.

Now, I guess my question would be, if you were to spend the money to build this deck, wouldn't you go one step further and put some sort of a railing along the sides? I realize that it's low to the ground and there is no risk of anyone falling off and hurting themselves (my friends only fall off chairs) but esthetically, some sort of something is needed to make it appear finished, so it looks like a deck should look. Apparently whomever built it also couldn't bother to seal it either, so years later it's ugly and and walking on it with bare feet is dangerous unless your hobby is picking splinters from your toes, in which case you're in heaven.

It's a real shame, it's huge and I'm thrilled that I have it, as I spend so much time outside. My neighbors only have small cement slab patios and barely spend anytime outside. But between the utilitarian look of it and the overly weathered wood, I despise it. Well, I don't despise it. It's a love/hate thing. I can't wait to see it go, yet I'm going to miss it, being the only person on the planet with a Platio.

However, I think I'd get over it pretty fast if the 3-Season Porch Fairy showed up and transformed it from pallet to palace. *sigh* But, until that day, I'll be entertaining my friends and family at the one, the only, The Platio.

A Father's Day Tribute

2007-06-11T08:48:00.001-05:00

At this point in time, I'd like to introduce my readership to the guy I hired to be my general contractor. I impressed him so much with my own amazing home renovation abilities that I tempted him out of retirement and take on the challenges of the Campi. I am, of course, speaking of Dear Ol' Dad, a man I greatly admire for his patience, generosity and especially his talent.

Before retiring, Dad was a Union electrician. He wired many buildings in and around Boston, my most memorable being Fanuiel Hall (Quincy Market). When Boston celebrated the opening of the marketplace, my parents took me and one of my friends in to check the place out. I was so proud of him, I pointed out every light and claimed that my Dad was the one who installed it. To this day, I still play it up, telling my own son that his grandfather wired most of Boston.

Now Dad has always been proud of his Little Girl. Looking back, I'm not really sure why, there were some pretty questionable choices and outright dumb moves on my part. But I guess that's all part of being a parent, and both he and my Mom have always supported me through good and bad, and even when I decided to buy my fixer upper Campi no less. As I said in a much earlier post, I knew I had a long road ahead of me and that privately my parents were probably thinking I was in over my head. I had been determined to prove them wrong. Those first few projects went a long way to do that. There were the outside projects: Ripping out shrubs, roots and all and digging up the infamous rocks in the back yard. And then there were the kitchen and the living room which needed some serious painting and, of course, the dreaded bathroom.

Then there were the little things... things that I normally would have asked Dad to do, except that they were in Florida for the winter. Things like switching out a light fixture, adding a dimmer switch, changing my leaking kitchen faucet. Jokingly, with each completed project I'd take a picture and email it down to them sort of poking fun at myself while keeping them updated on my progress. And as I'm doing this, I realize that I'm not doing it so much for them, but that I'm proving to myself that I really can do this. I mean i realize I wasn't about to rewire the house or anything, but I was capable of some pretty cool things that other people might not attempt. It was empowering.

By the time my parents returned in the Spring, Dear Ol' Dad was as willing as always to lend a hand, but now it was different, at least in my eyes. Now it was more like we worked as a team instead of me watching him do something. I'd have an idea, he planned out how to do it, and then together, we made it happen. Projects that I'll get into greater detail in future posts.

And that is how I came to hire Dear Ol' Dad as my General Contractor. Some may ask "How can I possibly afford such high quality Union help??" Well, Dad knows EVERYTHING there is to know about all the stuff I need help with, but nothing, and I mean NOTHING about computers, which is much more my specialty. So I've become his I.T. Specialist, spending many an hour on the phone walking him through problems he runs across, trying to keep in mind all that patience he showed me through the years... Wanting to be just like my Dad.

So Dad, say hello to everyone...
Ummm, Dad??
Sorry Dad's a little shy....
Come on Dad, smile for the camera...

Oh yeah, that's better!! (He's gonna kill me)
Love ya Dad!

Nickie's Final Resting Place

2007-06-04T14:02:00.000-05:00

As promised, a then and now look at Nickie's final resting place.

The Accidental Gardener

2007-05-31T06:20:00.000-05:00

All right, so after putting together a little composite photo, the idea of paving over the front yard into a basketball court in order to spent less time mowing was maybe not one of my better ideas. However, I have seen yards that have been completely transformed into gorgeous perennial gardens where most, if not all grassy areas have been decimated. Now that is something I'd truly love to do. Of course, the majority of yards I've seen that have done this are smaller than mine. Not that I have a large yard, but my house is set back away from the street. So, because of that, I certainly couldn't do it all at once. Ok, time and money play into it as well, it's not like I'm independently wealthy with nothing better to do.

I came across an article a year or two ago in one of those home & garden magazines where they tell you that you can loose 50 pounds in 2 weeks while eating chocolate cake and sewing Halloween costumes for the kiddies. Anyway, it was one of those articles that ended up in a drawer along with other miscellaneous tidbits... that, in theory at least, inspire you. You get the idea... Anyway, this article was about a woman who transformed her entire yard, front and back, into lush gardens. There were before and after photos, and the difference was amazing.

Now, I realize she didn't do this overnight, or even in one season. Anyone that truly gardens will tell you, it's an ongoing transformation, a never ending voyage. Previous to owning my Campi, I never took a great interest in gardening. I enjoyed other people's gardens, but never felt the urge to get out into my own back yard and get my hands dirty. My old yard was "nice." It had been lightly landscaped and manicured enough that nothing really screamed out for change. It didn't speak to me. Yes, I said "speak." The yard in my Campi speaks to me. I'll touch on that in a future post.

It started quiet accidentally, as many of you already know... a yard full of protruding rocks needing to be removed in order to mow the grass without killing myself or the mower. But after these rocks were popped out from the ground, then the question came, what do I do with them now?? At the same time, my precious cat, Nickie had to be put to sleep. I decided to bury him in our yard, so he'd still be close to us. I started to dig in several spots, only to keep coming up with the same problem... MORE ROCKS. So if I couldn't dig down, I'd have to build up. And that is how it all began one fall afternoon. A labor of love, a tribute to my cat... my first rock wall.

There had been a very large boulder that protruded out into the yard. It was in a shady area near some trees clustered together. It seemed the perfect spot to start, I envisioned a slightly curving wall rising and falling back into the ground. The rocks all fell into place as if it were a puzzle. I stopped off at Home Depot and picked up a flat or two of some flowers. I didn't know the names, and they weren't particularly pretty, but it was late in the season and I didn't know any better. I came home, planted them, and cried.

And that is how it came to be that the gardener within me awoke.... and my yard started speaking to me.

Does it ever end?

2007-05-15T13:05:00.000-05:00

As I was washing a few dishes last night, I was looking at my garden in the backyard through the window. It occurred to me that the grass needed mowing. It then occurred to me that I just did it... at the crack of dawn Saturday morning. (OK, 9 a.m, but that's pretty darn early for me) It was now only Wednesday night and if I didn't know better I'd have thought I missed a week in between.

It got me thinking back to just a few short weeks ago, when I pulled out the mower for the first time, gassed it up, checked the oil and started that puppy up. I happily went up and down and around trimming up my greening grass, enjoying the sound, the smell... that feeling of spring and renewal. Ah, yes, this is the year my yard is going to look like center field of Fenway Park.

Well, let me tell you, that got old, and quick! It's only May 31 and I'm already sick of mowing the lawn. I'm already dreaming of ways to make my life easier. Perhaps I'll just pave over the entire front yard. Too harsh?? Well, alrightly, I can make it into a full size basket ball court for all the neighborhood kids to enjoy. I'll be promoting healthy habits for the youth of tomorrow.
Hey, it's just a thought. One of the many I'm sure I'll have over the next 4 months as I pull out the mower on Saturday mornings... dreaming of all the things I could be doing instead of mowing.

The Heart of the Home

2007-04-26T07:19:00.000-05:00

Today I wish to introduce everyone to my furnace. It lives in my kitchen, where every good furnace belongs.

What?? Yours in the basement?? The garage?? You've got to be kidding me! Why would anyone want to have a large, loud, fire-burning beast anywhere else but in the "heart" of the home… Where the family shares dinner, where guests congregate during parties??

Not sure what Mr. Campinelli was thinking when he came up with this brilliant idea, outside of it somehow saving him money. That and he obviously didn't have to live in one himself. It sure is stupid however. OK, I realize that Campi's lack basements to house a furnace, but we do have garages, some even have "utility" rooms... I've even been in slab ranches where the furnace is neatly tucked away in an obscure part of the house, away from the living quarters, so I know it's possible! Yet the majority of all Campi's seem to have the furnace smack in the middle of the house, the kitchen. Thank God they are hidden from view by a gigantic metal box that virtually makes them invisible and sound proof. (That's sarcasm, by the way)

My furnace has been a thorn in my side from the first winter after moving in. I should have known I'd have issues. During the home inspection, Lucky the Inspector didn't even look at the furnace. I certainly didn't think that behind the ugly box was the hub of all things warm. I was so overwhelmed with all the other problems, I didn't even give it a thought that we never checked out the furnace. And with the heat and humidity soaring up to 100 degrees, my oil burner wasn't on the top of my list to think about when I bought the house. Duh.

Fast forward several months to a cold New England winter, when I realize that I haven't heard the furnace kick in (which is hard to miss, as it sounds like a 747 making a landing on my roof) I check, and sure enough, the radiators are stone cold. So now have to move the gigantic metal surround, not an easy task, as it is bulky and awkward. Next I stare at the dang thing and say a prayer that it will suddenly turn on. And eventually, when that doesn't happen, I hit the "reset" button. I'm not sure how I figured out that the little red button would turn the furnace back on, but I pushed it, held my breath, and wouldn't you know... it worked!

So, I struggle to put the stupid metal casing back on, sit down and enjoy the sound of my obnoxiously loud burner crank out the heat... for about 5 minutes before it shuts down and doesn't come back on again. Eventually I call the oil company and amazingly, since the previous owner Packrat actually had a contract for it, I didn't have to pay for a thing. They replaced this, and that and one of those and they were on their merry way and that should be the end of my story, however, life is never that easy in My Campi.

No, that first winter, the neighbors must have thought I had a thing going with the oil guy, as the service truck was almost always outside! I believe the final count that winter was 7 trips and countless replacement parts. And always the same reaction from each service tech that came by... "Hmm, that's interesting... do you know who installed this?" Great, very reassuring. They'd follow that statement up with saying that the burner was an excellent brand, blah blah blah... but if that's the case, then why the hell do I have the oil company on speed dial???

Anyway, one afternoon that following summer, my neighbor and I got talking about the furnace. She tells me that Packrat had a CHIMNEY FIRE the winter before I bought the Campi. Hmmm, don't you think something like that should have been disclosed by the realtor or something?? Well, if nothing else, at least it cleared up a few things, like why Packrat had the service contract and why the installation of the burner was half-assed. Yup, it suddenly became crystal clear.

In the following 4 winters since, my love affair with the service tech cooled down to one or 2 visits a year mainly consisting of a good cleaning. Then about a month ago, just as the heating season started to die down, don't ya know the stupid thing would start randomly shutting down. I'd pull off the metal box, hit the reset, put the big metal box back on and it would work for a day or two before shutting down again. At some point I gave up on moving the metal surround back and just left it standing out in the middle of my kitchen... so attractive. Eventually, after 2 service calls in 2 weeks we determined that the box that has the reset button wasn't working correctly, so now I've got a brand new one (actually, it's the second new one, I've already had that part replaced once before). Does the saga ever end?? I doubt it.

I have visions of moving the burner to the garage, but then what would my friends tease me about when they came over?? Oh wait, there is always something to laugh about when it comes to my Campi.

Cookie Cutter Syndrome

2007-03-14T09:37:00.000-05:00

With the advent of Spring, or at least weather that resembles it, I have resumed one of my favorite activities. No, not rock moving, it's still too early for that. It's a dirty little secret I keep and I pass off as exercise in the form of walking. But what it really is, what I really am is, well, a Peeping Tom.

And with that confession, I'll explain. It's not that I'm looking into my neighbor's houses hoping to catch a glimpse of my 3,000 year old neighbor walking around in her house coat or the guy up the street that doesn't wear a shirt when he vacuums (which, BTW, he should). It's just a simple fascination of living in a house that looks like every other house on the street, every other on the block… every other in the whole neighborhood. It's what I'll call Cookie Cutter Syndrome (CCS).

Sure, it started out innocently enough, as purely a way to loose a few pounds. I put on a pair of sneakers one night after dinner and out the door I went, down the street, up another, around a corner and before I knew it, I was lost. Why? Because every damn street looks the SAME! Thankfully, I've got a good sense of direction and was able to make it home before the Tonight Show came on. GPS would have come in handy.

However, I became absolutely intrigued by what people have done (and horrified by those that have not done anything at all, but I won't get into that.) to their Campi's through the years to make them unique to them, to suit their needs and esthetic values. I wish I could take notes and photos as I walk along, as I get ideas for my own little Campi. (My case of CCS is mild to moderate, I haven't lost it completely and staked out anyone's home) As I walk along, often tripping into pot holes or sloshing through puddles, and yes, smacking my face up against a branch or two, I wonder what the layout of the house that added a 2nd floor must look like. Where are the stairs? How big are the bedrooms? What's it like to have another bathroom?? Do they still wish they had a basement? I wonder about the homes that have moved their furnace out of the kitchen and into the garage. Do they get used to living in relative quietness? I wonder how many have converted their garages to an extra room, and why wouldn't the people that haven't? Have they added a fireplace? I peek into the back to see if they've added on a screened-in porch or a 3-season porch. I dream of of what I'd like to do with my own Campi, if, of course, I actually had money.

I also enjoy peeping at landscaping, what size lots people have, how level it is, if they have lots of trees and rocks. There are some wonderful yards that have truly embraced what the Campinelli Brothers left behind. Lovely rock gardens where rock outcrops were left, pathways lined with beautiful vegetation, rose arbors, window boxes. I check out fences as I'll soon need to replace my decaying one.

Back when I was growing up, the Garden Club had a Holiday Open House Day, where several homes were selected, decorated and showcased for paying customers to parade through and gawk at how the Other Half live. I fantasize having a Neighborhood Campi Open House, where Campi owners open up their houses for other Campi owners to check out. It would be so much easier than looking through the Sunday paper and doing individual open houses when they are up for sale. (Which, sadly, I've done.) It would be a great way to get ideas on renovations, decorating ideas, not to mention meeting your neighbors. Now that's a concept. It's not being nosey, not really. OK, it is, but in a fun kind of way. I bet I'm not the only one that would like that kind of thing, I know my Mom would be lined up right behind me. (No, it's not because I've turned into my mother... we just HAPPEN to both like that kind of thing.)

Anyway, until they come up with a cure for CCS, I'll keep walking, and peeping. Enjoy the warm weather everyone.

Some guys have all the luck!

2007-03-05T12:52:00.000-05:00

So, why couldn't my rocks be worth money?? Read on...

Former Sox pitcher: I'm stinkin' rich!

Posted by Dan Lamothe March 01, 2007 19:41PM

Categories: Around the Majors

APMatt White... stinkin' rich, thanks to rocks.

Well, it's not every day that Cummington, Mass., makes national news. Yet here it is today, in the middle of a bizarre story tied to Matt White, a former Boston Red Sox Rule 5 draft pick who is trying to latch on with the Los Angeles Dodgers.

It seems White, a nine-year veteran who has pitched in seven Major League games, purchased 50 acres of land in Cummington a while back for $50,000 from his elderly aunt, who needed the money to go to the nursing home, according to this story.

And, well, the land is a little out of the ordinary -- it could have $2 billion(!!!) worth of stone on it:

The Cummington, Mass., land didn't seem good for much at the time. Still, White decided to clear a few acres to build a house.
"We kept digging up these flat rocks. And we didn't really know what was going on," he explained.

White decided to have the land surveyed, and that's when things began to get interesting.

It turns out the land is chock full of Goshen stone -- billed as some of the most "beautiful" and "well known" landscaping stone in the country.

According to this wire story, White got University of Massachusetts professor Peter Pannish in on the act. He is the one who discovered the stone, which is worth $100 per ton.

Said Pannish to the AP:

"It's basically a slabby rock that can be used for sidewalks, building faces and stone walls," Pannish said from his Amherst, Mass., office. "You can use it for a lot of other things, like flagstone on a patio. There are some sidewalks right here on campus that are made of that same rock."
Pannish said he believes White could sell his property for several million dollars, or more.

"As far as hundreds of millions, I doubt if that's possible because of all the expenses that would have to be considered," Pannish said. "But it could be quite a bit of money. He probably needs a mining engineer oran economic geologist to come up with a good evaluation."

News accounts thus far have not disclosed the address in question, but a search of the Hampshire County Register of Deeds database shows that White purchased land from Josephine L. Howes at 65 Berkshire Trail in Cummington on Dec. 22, 2003. The sale price on the transaction is indeed listed at $50,000.

For the record, a map of the property is available here, and satellite images are available here.

For those of you not familiar with Western Massachusetts, here's some perspective from someone (me) who grew up about an hour away in busier Chicopee, Mass.: Cummington hasn't seen a story like this in years. Actually, scratch that. Cummington most likely hasn't seen a story this interesting ever.

In my travels, I have been through Cummington and the surrounding area once or twice. It's located here, and it's a beautiful place with a population of less than 1,000, according to the town's Web site. It's relatively easy to picture this kind of resource going unnoticed, since so much of the land there is undeveloped.

This comment by White makes me wonder how it'll all play out:

"I guess you could say the property is for sale," White said with a chuckle. "We'll have to see how things turn out. I don't even know where to start. I'm in the process now of getting in touch with business-savvy guys, finding out how much to ask."

As for White's ties to the Red Sox, he pitched 3.2 innings for them in 2003, according to stats found here. It didn't go well -- he lost his only decision, and gave up 10 hits and 11 earned runs as hitters batted .526 against him.

Slaying the Beast

2007-01-30T09:04:00.000-05:00

So, where did I leave off? Oh, that's right, the obnoxiously filthy bathroom...

OK, so I've replaced the nasty tub and shower with a nice clean white shower and tub, which looks very nice against the original blue tiles that I couldn't afford to replace even if I wanted to. However, the Green Monster still taunts me. What is the Green Monster you ask?? Why, it's the custom shaped vanity sink made out of a hideous shade of green marble that someone plunked down in the blue bathroom.

Now I can almost understand if someone replaced the original sink with some cheap replacement, but this, this boggles my mind. The vanity is a custom sized/shaped contraption that actually fits perfectly in the space. I know it wasn't the original sink, because the original plumbing is still sticking out from the wall under the vanity. New pipes were plumbed directly from the side instead of the back wall and the new vanity covers all the exposed piping. So someone had thought this out, someone spent good money. But why, why would someone then have this custom made sink made in a hideous shade of green, when they obviously weren't planning on removing the blue tiled wall that the sink butts up against? Why?? But then again, it was probably the same person that slapped up the ill-fitting shower liner over the rotting walls. (Which was in yet a different shade of blue than the tiles.) I'm guessing this person was severely color blind... or maybe just blind. Or maybe just stupid. "Is that your final answer?" "Yes, final answer, stupid."

I could be a millionaire right now...

Anyway, for the vanity, I painted over the original dark wood finish and replaced the handles with some nice new ones. It came out so nice I decided that I wouldn't need to replace the whole vanity,, just the top. That was the good news, the bad news being that I knew I couldn't afford to replace the sink for a while. Since it was in decent working order, I put up with it for 3 years or so, staring back at me every morning when I washed my face, irritating me every time I had to clean the bathroom, embarrassing me every time I had company over. The Green Monster was Enemy Number One.

My luck turned one Christmas, when I was the recipient of a $100 gift certificate to the Home Depot from Bear at the annual Group Christmas Get Together/Gift Exchange. Thanks to him, I decided I was ready to take on the Monster. I marched down to the store, measurements in hand, picked out a classic white marble with subtle blue streaks running through it. Of course, I nearly died when I heard just how much it was going to cost, but I made up my mind, it was now or never, so I sucked it up and put in the order, went home and told the Monster his days were numbered.

Several weeks later, and a few minor set backs (that I'm too embarrassed to mention so don't ask), I had my new sink and faucet and I was ready to slay the beast. Through the years I've been in my Campi, I have done some minor plumbing stuff, but this was going to be a challenge. As opposed to the newer water lines that lead to the faucet, the drain pipe was never replaced and is not centered under the sink..The plumbing was all held together by a plastic tubie-thing that connected the sink drain to the P-trap and onto the original pipe in the wall. I managed to take the contraption apart and clean everything up (take my word for this, you don't want to know what's lurking in your pipes.) and put the whole thing back together with only one minor problem... I tightened something a little too much which created a hairline crack on one of the pipes. But my buddy Rube Goldburg had the solution for that, and a little bathroom caulking later I completed the transformation from monster to magnificent... with no leaks. Someday I plan on replacing all the plumbing under there, I even have all the parts needed, but for now, I'm happy with my ugly purple stained pipes.

It gave me great satisfaction to see the Green Monster lying at the bottom of the driveway waiting for the trash men to come take it away. No tears were shed that day.

BathFitter Gone Bad

2007-01-15T15:00:00.001-05:00

I should note: this in not a reflection on the Bathfitter company. Bathfitter was not involved in the ugliness that was my bathroom.
__________

When I first toured My Campi with my girlfriend during that fateful lunch, I was aware that the bathroom was, well, disgusting. Not just "it needs a fresh coat of paint" disgusting. More like "How does a person shower in this filthy thing and come out feeling clean" disgusting. It gave new meaning to the nickname "the shitter."

My first night of home ownership My Campi was spent in the a-for mentioned room, in 90 degree heat and humidity desperately scrubbing the walls, toilet, shower/tub and floor for several hours. Thankfully, I was able to go back to my apartment I was still renting and take a shower there, because I had such a case of heebie geebies (sp??) after cleaning, I couldn't bring myself to use it.

Once I was officially moved in, the memory had faded, slightly, and since I knew that I did all I could to insure I wouldn't catch any diseases, I did finally use it... but they weren't nice lingering showers, letting the water run over my body in an effort to cool myself after working on the house in the insane humidity that was that summer. Nope, I could have beat the world's record for the fastest shower ever.

The problem (the main problem, that is) with the bathroom was that the original tile in the shower had begun rotting away and apparently someone thought the smartest idea was to simply cover it up with an acrylic liner, and not by having those "professionals" over at BathFitter come do it in a day. Nope, it was Rube Goldberg himself that must have done this job. Perhaps they found it in someone's trash, or maybe they got it at Building 19, but where ever it came from, that shower liner didn't fit correctly. That didn't seem to keep Rube down, he still installed it by cutting it and gluing pieces directly onto the rotting walls. Hey, if you can't see it, it can't be a problem! Maybe that should be BathFitters new mantra.

The original 1950's pipes and fixtures were also still in place, despite that they were leaking. These parts were so old that plumbing stores don't even carry replacement parts. Good ol' Dad, in an effort to be helpful one afternoon went to fix the shower from dripping, and accidentally snapped something and water started squirting straight out of the faucet. After Dad shut the water main into the house off, he called me at work to let me know. Yeah, like I knew what to do... besides cry! Thankfully, in the end, my former landlord, a plumber, who would work for a case of cold beer, was able to make his way over that weekend and re-piped the water lines for the shower. Thanks Dad, if you hadn't done that, who knows how long I would have gone before I finally did something about it?

I put up with the nasty shower/tub from August to February, when I could take it no more. I hired my girlfriend's brother to gut the whole tub area and replace with a new tub and liner. He wasn't working for a case of beer, but I was still getting a great deal, so I didn't mind lending a hand at all. It was cool, I found out I love doing demo stuff. I'm great at tearing things out. After the old liner, tiles and walls were removed, I could see all the damage that was covered up. It was also neat to see where the tub once was and what lurks under it. (In case you're wondering, it's giant spiders, and I really didn't need to know!) At one point, I came home to find my old cast iron tub lying on my kitchen floor like a beached whale. It was grand fun watching him smash it to pieces out in my back yard. Very satisfying.

He only took two days and even found time to put up molding on four windows that for some reason were never finished. (OK, yes I do know why... lazy, lazy people lived in My Campi before me) He also enlarged the opening to my closet and put on new doors. All that and I still had money in the bank. (Well, sort of, but not really) I still had much work to do in that room, but at least I could take a nice relaxing hot bath after moving rocks around my yard.

Up next: The Green Monster.

Tribute to Christmas Past

2006-12-22T08:19:00.000-05:00

I don't know too much of the history of the families that lived in my Campi before me. I do know that before PackRat and her two boys lived there, the Edmunton's lived there. Sally apparently worked for Sears for many years, as I still get Sear's Employee letters for her on occasion. I believe they lived in the house for many years, while there kids were young and growing up. There is a woman down the street that still lives with her dad, and she once said something about spending many a summer's day in my backyard with the girls hanging out in my house, an swimming in the pool. (The same one that needed to be removed when I bought the house.) I'd ask her more about it, but she's a bit off kilter (who wouldn't after living with their father their entire life???) She's also got some strange lisp that makes it really hard to understand her even when she seems to be lucid.
However, I digress...

Anyway, Shortly after moving in, Dear Ol' Dad began installing an alarm system so that no one could break into the house and hurt his Little Girl. This process involves running wires up in the attic and crawl spaces. While up there wiring one day, he came across several little gems of the ghosts of those who previously occupied my Campi. I guess most people who came across this stuff would probably just throw it out, but to me, it's more than just someones old trash. What he found were 2 old Christmas stockings and a Christmas greeting card, all circa 1960's.

To me, it's a true slice of what these Campinelli developments stood for. Young families starting out, raising there children in neighborhoods equally as new and young. Christmas and the holidays bringing hope and joy to all for a bright future. Young Robin and Cheryl may have left behind their stockings when they grew up and moved on to raise their own families, but they left behind a little glimpse of the past for me to enjoy. I envision the Edmunton family sitting around the tree opening presents Christmas morning. Probably the same toys and games that my brothers and I were also opening up miles away in the home that I grew up in.

Some think it strange or weird, but I hang the Robin & Cheryl's stockings, along with the card from Michelle, left half colored in by someone, every year. To me, it brings the warmth of Christmas' past to Christmas present, where new memories are being made with my son and family.

Peace and happiness to all. May the new year bring many blessings to you.

My Campi's Gone Coastal

2006-12-11T15:42:00.000-05:00

That's COASTAL, not postal.
Just want to throw a big Hello to my ever growing captive audience. I think I'm up to 6. But these 6 readers stretch the entire East Coast... from scenic Maine down to sunny Florida and everything in between. If you consider Massachusetts to be everything in between.

Who knew that Not Just Antoher Campi would go national?? Thanks to all my loyal readers, you've made me what I am today... someone who sneaks around work writing a blog about pretty much nothing. I couldn't have done it without you!

2006-12-05T13:26:00.000-05:00

What do avocado cabinets and lilac walls have in common? NOTHING. Which is why it makes so much sense that my Campi would have both of these fine features. It was one of the images that stood out when I took the Whirlwind Tour before putting my offer on the house. My girlfriend that had come with me that day had just finished painting her old cabinets and assured me that fixing the up was possible. And compared to the bathroom, it did seem like a fairly easy task.

So I've been in the house for maybe 2 or 3 months and I can NO LONGER take coming home and being greeted by my avocado/lilac kitchen and living room. Upon closer examination of the cabinets, it becomes apparent that who ever it was that took it upon themselves to paint had no idea what kind of paint to use, or where to use it. It is not a wise choice to use spray paint on cabinets, especially if your not going to remove the doors or mask over what you DON'T want painted. For example, the side of my black dishwasher is splattered green, part of the ceiling has a nice spray of green on it. As for the walls, high gloss should not be the first choice for kitchen/living room paint... and certainly not in any shade of purple.

I tackled the cabinets first. I sanded them down, patched them up and painted them a light cornflower blue. They looked good, but very plain. I was inspired to do something Trading Spaces-like, as I was heavily addicted to watching the show night after night. No, I didn't wall paper the room with cardboard or anything crazy like they sometimes did. I purchased some tin ceiling panels, trimmed them down, painted, sanded, and aged them until they looked like they were old. I then attached them to each door creating a center panel in each. Totally shabby chic. Very me.

On to the walls... I sanded, patched then primed and choose a pale light yellow which set off the cabinets very nicely. I was pretty new to painting up until this point, except for some color washing I did at the old house where you were supposed to be messy and uneven... my specialty. So this was a learning experience. I managed not to not drop the paint all over the carpet. It came out nice and smooth, neat and even.

Other small changes I made included replacing the light over the kitchen table that had 3 inches of dust on it when I moved in. It looked like an original fixture to the house, a real beauty, so I was sad to see it go... NOT! The first weekend I had moved in Dad, my electrician, switched it out and replaced with my new ceiling fan and light. He also added a dimmer, of course. (Dimmers are something that our family has a real affinity for, Dad's to blame) He also fixed the garbage disposal that Lucky the Inspector had said was broken and needed to be replaced. Of course it didn't stop Pack Rat from using it up until the day she moved, however, because we found all sorts of stinky stuff in there. Brilliant. Could that be the source of The Smell?? You'd think, but even after that was fixed, it persisted.

Anyway, The kitchen and living room were my first real accomplishments when I moved in. I wished I could have replaced the linoleum and carpet, but that wasn't in the budget then, so it had to wait. What fun would it be if I could actually complete a whole room at once anyway??

*Editors Note: Please note the presence of Nickie in the first 2 sets of photos. In the 2nd set, he's getting ready to warm his head under the lamp, one of his after lunch rituals. God, don't ya just miss him??

Giving Thanks

2006-11-23T08:03:00.000-05:00

Here's a little story of a poor lost turkey, who found his way into the big city.

On Thanksgiving morning a few years back, I looked out my kitchen window and low and behold a Thanksgiving miracle occured, a real live turkey was enjoying my rock encrusted backyard!
I ran outside, to get a better look, but apparently I scared it to death, as I was still in my nightgown.

Seeing as how many of my friends often compare me to Martha Stewart (in her pre-prison days, of course) I decided to turn this tragic event into the Best Thanksgiving Event Ever. I took that turkey and plucked it, stuffed it, and stuck it into my oven. Several hours later I removed my award winning meal from the unique antique stove I inherited when I bought my Campi, my Best Thanksgiving Event Ever turned to my Best Burnt Turkey Ever. Mmmmmmmm Mmmmmmmm Tasty. Martha would be so, so... well, who cares what she thinks anyway, the little Prison Princess. Dispite the look, the turkey was delicious.

OK, so I made up the story, but I really did have a wild turkey in my yard one spring day, I really did cook that burnt turkey (which really did taste good) and, most importantly, I really did replace the ancient stove that came with the house with a spiffy new one.

So today I give thanks for all I have, which is a loving family, wonderful friends, a (new) roof over my head that has my name on the deed... so much more than many. But mainly I am thankful that someone else is cooking dinner.

Happy Thanksgiving to all my loyal readers...

All 3 of you.

Enjoying the View of the Back Nine

2006-11-19T19:08:00.000-05:00

There are those lucky people in life that amass such wealth that they can purchase a house that overlooks the 18th hole of a gorgeous golf course. In case you haven't figured it out yet, I am not one of those people. I purchased a house that's no where near a golf course. And yet, I have a sand trap that Tiger Woods would fear.

The lesson here would be, if you ask the previous owner to remove a decrepit above-ground pool, you should also insist that they throw some dirt and grass seed down, because underneath above ground pools there are several inches of sand. Anyway, you may think that would be stating the obvious, but if it's not in writing, they don't do it. And since Lucky the Inspector didn't happen to think of this (Oh, there's a big surprise) I never mentioned anything in the P&S. So this is how, in addition to all my lovely rocks and dead trees, I came to have my very own crop circle.

Try not to be jealous.

I must say, it actually turned out to be a pretty cool amenity. (Like that 10¢ word?? Realtors use it all the time when advertising. It's supposed to make you think that until now you don't know how you lived without it... a special luxury that you deserve.) My little guy took a real liking to this spot, and for several years it became known as the Sand Pit. At first he used all sorts of trucks to dig and move the sand around. It was cute. But as he grew a little older, he took to digging with my shovel when I wasn't looking and make big holes (Perhaps searching for a quick route to China that failed after he got bored.) This would have been fine too, except that I'd be walking along, (usually carrying a rock or something big and heavy) forget the hole was there and stumble, nearly breaking my neck several times. Also during his excavations, he would often come upon buried rocks... and decided to be just like Mum and dig them up. Great, just Mum needed, more rocks.

Sadly, the boy told me at the end of last summer that I could fill the Sand Pit in, that he was getting too old for such things. Despite that it was an eye sore I was saddened that my little guy was growing up. *Sigh* I got over it pretty quick when I realized I would finally be able to reclaim this part of the yard.

More on that later.

Ode to My Tree Hugging Friends

2006-11-16T18:51:00.000-05:00

There's more to my yard that just rocks, folks. I got trees. Lots and lots of trees. Problem with several of the trees was that they were pretty much dead. They were still standing, but they were dead, with most of the branches strewn all over my yard.

On of my first get togethers at the Campi involved The Group. A wide and vast assortment of close dear friends. I had recently purchased one of those fire bowls and had it set up in the back. We roasted marshmallows and enjoyed the ambiance. The kids loved it, young and old.

However, after we burnt all the wood that I had collected from various broken branches, several of my friends weren't content to let it die out. Nope, they took it upon themselves to help out in the cleaning up of my yard. I can't remember now, who did it, but there was a small, thin tree that was dead and was very easily knocked down. That soon became firewood. We all thought it was funny.

The next get together, we also had a fire, it was becoming a tradition. And apparently so wasn't knocking down my trees. The next one to go wasn't quite as dead or skinny as the last. I don't think any of us really thought they'd knock it over, but shortly after this picture was taken, a very loud crack was heard, and the tree came tumbling down! It was hysterical. Probably something you needed to be there to truly appreciate, but I think is worth mentioning.

Since that time, many more branches have fallen, and many have been removed. (I took up being a lumber jack after I started running low on rocks to move.) For many get togethers after that, there was always the threat of someone going out there and knocking one or two trees over, but thankfully, those thoughts have died down. Now I leave it up to Mother Nature. I've recently lost one to a wind storm, thankfully a small one that didn't come anywhere near the house. Every spring I get a new shipment of tinder and firewood to burn. It's just laying all over the back yard for me to pick up and burn. Oh, and of course, invite The Group over to enjoy.

My Glacier Gems

2006-11-09T16:57:00.000-05:00

As I've mentioned before, but in case somehow you managed to forgot, my yard had many rocks. A lot of rocks. A LOT. Most of which were jutting out of the ground, untouched since the glaciers moved through. I don't understand how a yard that was established in the 1950's could possibly remain untouched all these years. And yet, it did. All the previous owners had to mow the grass, or rake the leaves at some point. Did they somehow manage to never once nick the lawnmower blade on one of those puppies, or stub a toe without swearing? Did it ever occur to anyone to maybe dig them up???

Apparently not.

Now, I'm pretty much new to landscaping. Sure I once or twice planted a few flowers in my old yard, but I never once had to mow the grass or weed whack the edging. I did, however, somehow got custody of the lawnmower after the divorce. Go figure. Thankfully the grass only needed to be cut one time that first summer I was in the house, one benefit to having the record heat. My dad came over one afternoon while I was at work and did the yard for me. Good ol' Dad to the rescue.

However, the following spring came and the grass grew and before I knew it, the lawn needed mowing. So I put on my Girl Power t-shirt (no, not really) and got the mower out of the garage. Once I managed to get it started, the front yard went pretty well. And then with the words of my father ringing in my ear from the home inspection about how the yard wouldn't be easy to take care of, I moved on to the back.

Father knows best... that's for sure. I had to zig and zag my way around the rocks and trees so much I got dizzy. I nearly sh#t my pants when I nicked a rock by accident. By the end I was tense from worrying about breaking the blade by accident, seeing shrapnel flying out from under, flying towards me and maiming me for life. It was a real live land mine field right in my back yard. After one single mowing and I knew those rocks had to GO. It became my mission in life. Some were easy to pop right out. Some were a little tricky and needed a little more digging. Some nearly killed me, I almost gave up. But none of them are in my way any more. I had no idea what I was going to do with all of them. I ended up piling them up on one side of my yard.

And then I waited for inspiration to guide me.

"What did you get Charlie Brown?"

2006-11-01T12:54:00.000-05:00

"I got rocks!"

In the spirt of Halloween, here's a run down on what I've learned about rocks...

• Rocks are heavy.
• Rocks believe in the Law of Gravity.
• Rocks weren't meant to be dropped on fingers or toes.
• There IS a difference between a Rock Wall and a Wall of Rocks. (Click to Enlarge)
• There IS a difference between a Garden of Rocks and a Rock Garden. (Click to Enlarge)
Rocks DO NOT rock my world..
Rocks TOOK OVER my world.
I can't begin to count how many I have in the yard and out in the house. How many I've dug up, how many I've moved from one end of the yard to the other... and then back again.

Perhaps I should have given rocks out for Halloween. Of course, rocks hurt when they are hurled at you, so perhaps it's just as well I didn't. Instead, I decided that if "Life gives you rocks, make walls." Lots & lots of walls.

More to come...

Close Call on The Closing

2006-10-27T07:26:00.000-05:00

As the closing date approaches, and I'm busy sorting and purging as I pack, I wonder how it's going for Pack Rat, the current owner of the Campi. I wonder if the bales of laundry will be removed from their various closets, I wonder if the the metal shack and pool remnants will be removed, as requested in the P&S. I am anxious to get on with this, as the temperature continues to soar and the humidity make the air so heavy it is hard to breath... never mind pack up one's life into boxes.

Two days before the closing, I get a call from my attorney telling me that he just found out that Pack Rat's mortgage has gone to foreclosure. Apparently, she didn't think the notice she got in the mail was important and never bothered to let the lender know that there was an offer on the house and the sale was going through. So now everything is up in the air, as the title won't be released, and all sorts of problems due to this are cropping up. My life is packed up in boxes and my lease is up in two days, but I may not have a house to move into... Terrific! I place all my faith into my attorney (who is a life long friend, not just some slimy lawyer) and trust that he can work with the bank and get this mess squared away. Start praying.

Late the following day, I get word that the title has been cleared and we're good to go. So, praying does work or miracles do occur. Either way, I'm on my way to the walk through an hour before closing. Much to my delight, and surprise, Pack Rat has done an amazing job of clearing out. The shed and pool are gone, no huge piles of laundry to be found anywhere. Nope, the place is empty from one end of the lilac walls to the other. Yet another miracle.

On to the closing I go. Miss Skinny-Butt the Realtor couldn't take the time to make it, but sent her co-worker to cover for her. She must be at the Gucci store spending the money she just made for doing nothing. It's not that I feel this way about all Realtors, but this one never lifted a finger or made any effort whatsoever. But that's a whole story in itself, and I won't get into that mess... The closing itself goes as smooth as can be, record time. I bid farewell and good luck to Pack Rat, who I just found out has no idea where she is going to live. What-ever!! I know where I'm going... to my Dream Campi.

As I approach, I am greeted by one of my best and closest friends waiting for me out front. My heart races and I'm so excited. I use my new key and we enter my home for the first time. I feel like a kid as I go from room to room (trying my best to ignore The Smell. We enjoy our first meal, pizza from the shop down the street. A place I'll call "Puke-a-rama" as that seems to best describe the meal. Regardless, it's perfect, it's all perfect. That afternoon is one I'll never forget. Best friend, pizza and my Campi.

Perfect!

My Lucky Charm

2006-10-23T08:55:00.000-05:00

So my initial offer has been accepted and I hire one of those "professional" home inspectors for a few hundred dollars, because that's what you're supposed to do, even though it's just a big scam. OK, some inspectors I'm sure are very good, but let's face it, they only inspect what they can see, so even if something is remotely obstructed, they offer no opinion. I've been through this process before when I bought my first home and sure enough, as soon as we moved in to that home, we came across many things that we feel should have been at least mentioned in the report. However, that was a home in very good working order. My Campi is a different story. It's hardly a turn-key property.

I decide to invite my parents along for the inspection, Mom mainly so she can check the place out, Dad, because I trust him more than the home inspector. And because they are lending me a few extra bucks to use for the down payment... investors, you could say. We meet the inspector and much to the delight of my mother, the inspector has an Irish borough... you know, he sounds like the leprechaun from Lucky Charms. Terrific.

OK, with the introductions out of the way, it's time to get down to business. We start in the back yard and it's as if I'm seeing the place for the first time... which isn't too far from the truth, as a 5 minute viewing really doesn't constitute as quality time. The yard is uneven, at best, there are rocks jutting out of the ground as if it were a land mine field, and overall it's been a while since this place has seen any form of landscaping. At one point as we are poking around, while Lucky the home inspector is rambling on about how he grew up on a farm somewhere, I hear my Dad mumble to my Mother that he wasn't impressed. I've never mowed grass a day in my pampered little life, what do I know?? I don't get it, what's the big deal?? I can only imagine the thoughts that were running through their minds that they didn't vocalize. There is a run down metal shed and an above ground pool that is half caved in... Hmmm, I don't really remember them looking quite so bad the first time around. That moment has stayed with me, my dad thinking that this was too much for me to handle, I vowed then and there that I would make them proud of me, that I could do this.

After surviving the tour outside, we head into my future home. I won't say were were knocked over by the smell, but there is a distinct odor. It has been a very hot summer, and the woman that currently owns the house obviously doesn't spend anytime cleaning, so it's safe to assume that a good scrubbing should take care of that. Right?? Dad is blown away by the amount of laundry the current owner seems to have, as it pours out of every closet we open. It's everywhere, on top of dressers, the tables, EVERYWHERE. And the real kicker is because the laundry is obstructing most things, Lucky the inspector, can't offer his opinion. We find ourselves digging through these piles to make access for him to "inspect" as the realtor sits on her skinny little backside doing nothing but thinking of ways she can spend the money she's making on commission of this hole in the wall.

It just keeps getting better and better! We still have a good laugh about it to this day. Nothing really unexpected comes out of the inspection... not that I expected it to. I know my parents wish I didn't put an offer on this house, I know they wish I'd find a nice safe little condo somewhere. But I'm headstrong, and stuck on the idea, I know I'm getting myself in over my head. But deep down I know I can handle it. I go back to the table armed with a new offer based on Lucky's assessment (and more importantly, what I thought this dump was worth). I'm not backing down when they counter offer... I'm not sure when or where I got this new found sense of independence or strength, but for the first time in my 37 years of life, I am finally taking charge of my life, making decisions based on what I want, not what some one else wants or thinks. I'm not trying to please or impress anyone. I can do this.

In the end my offer is accepted and I'm on my way to becoming a home owner. There's no turning back now.

How to Buy a House During Lunch

2006-10-16T07:28:00.000-05:00

They say that purchasing your home is one of, if not the biggest investments you will ever make. That said, most people probably wouldn't run out during their lunch break and buy one. But I'm not like most people, because that's exactly what I did.

I suppose it wasn't as simple as that, but in the end, that's what happened. Back in 2001-2002 the housing market was HOT. Properties were sold nearly as quickly as they were listed. Often times going for more money than the asking price if a bidding war got started. There was very little inventory in my price range to begin with, so I was limited in many ways. I knew I wasn't going to be buying the house of my dreams or anything. But as the weeks went by, and the prices kept going up, I knew I had to make a move or end up paying more in rent than in a mortgage.

I had seen this house listed on the MLS page at one point, and by the time I got in touch with someone about it, it was already under agreement. Not a big surprise...that seemed to be my luck. However, about 2 weeks later, I saw that it was back on the market. I called immediately and the realtor said she could show it to me that day. So my girlfriend from work and I took our lunch break and ran up the street to where it was located. Of course, in a Campi neighborhood, it's easy to get lost...all the streets look just like the other streets, it actually took longer to find the house than to tour it. I'm not exaggerating when I say it took less than 5 minutes to tour the house and yard before we were back in the car and headed back to work.

Neither of us were overly impressed. Actually, neither of us were impressed at all. The house smelled, the bathroom was atrocious, the kitchen way outdated, tiny bedrooms and the yard, overgrown and unkempt. So I did what anyone else would do and called the realtor and made an offer! Hey, it's just $200,000 plus interest over 30 years we're talking about, it's not like it's a big deal or anything, right??

In the end, a price was agreed upon and we set up a date for the home inspector. Looking back on it, it all seemed to happen in a whirlwind... Oh wait, it did.

Coming up next... the home inspection and my horrified parents.

Owning a Cookie Cutter Home

2006-10-10T07:24:00.000-05:00

Back in the 1950's & 60's a new breed of homes were mass produced around the Massachusetts area which, through the years, often referred to as a "Campi" - after the contractor that designed and manufactured them, the Campinelli Brothers. These one floor, slab foundation Ranches were affordable for returning veterans and young families, the average price starting around $10,000-15,000. According to an article I read, they were built with veterans in mind, many who came back from war in wheelchairs, so they had the opportunity to become homeowners.

There were several styles to choose from, including "The Enchantress" with it's gabled roof, and "The Charmer" a rectangular box. Later, the "El Dorado" was introduced, and like it's namesake, it was the "top of the line" Campenelli offered. All styles consisted of 3 bedrooms, 1 bath, kitchen, livingroom and one car car attached garage. Total square footage was around 1,200 to 1,400, and boasted "built-in" cabinets, modern appliances and tiled baths. Most sat on approx. 1/4 acre lots dotted with young trees for their young to play. The American Dream realized.

Since that time, many Campi's have been updated & renovated. Most have converted the garage to an extra bedroom, or a family room, while others have expanded by adding on a second floor. While some original owners are still living in thier homes, many have been sold, some many times over. Many have fallen into disrepair.

Fast forward to 2002, and this is where my story begins...