Documenting our move “out to the country”

A couple of days ago we picked up the construction drawings-in-progress. I’m still in the process of making notes about them to send back to Bob (and John, who is also working on the project), but I just had to share this image:

On the one hand, we’re hopefully building a house that can manage (maybe with some smart sensors and actuators, and a few well-positioned trees and seasonal shades) to use passive airflow to cool and maintain a livable temperature throughout the year.

But Hurricane Ike is reminding me that we need to consider humidity as well. One of the difficulties of maintaining old books, let alone artwork, is keeping mold from encroaching. In our case, many of the books are already moldy to some extent, and we plan over years to do conservation on them.

So we should think about whether there’s a “dry room” in the basement, or whether air conditioning will be enough to dry the internal house air, or whether we want some sort of special plan for the library or the storage section in the basement.

I don’t know the answers, I admit. But the northeast wind right now reminds me, by plastering the windows with heavy rain.

Well, the status is: there is none. We’re still waiting on the construction drawings. We’re still trying to find suitable builders to bid; some have told us that they won’t talk to us without a signed contract. M. has had some recent health issues, which have distracted us from everything else, but which also make us wish we were already in the house (not anybody’s fault that we aren’t, just wishing things had gone a bit differently sometimes).

Oh, I’m wrong, there has been something going on. The county sanitarian has approved our sewage permit. I hadn’t realized that I’d checked the box for sewage when I requested the well permit, but apparently I did. It’s valid for one year (until the end of August 2009). The details are: 2 tanks (one 1000 gallons, the other 1500), and 8 lines with a split header in the leach bed. The boilerplate “construction details” letter says the larger tank should be closer to the house, but the drawing approved by the sanitarian says the smaller tank should be closer to the house. When we get closer to excavating, I’ll get clarification of which tank should go where.

Since I was nearby, I went to the lot and briefly traipsed.

There’s a lot of goldenrod! You might even be able to hear the crickets chirping — they were quite loud.

We’re getting to the point where we’re making final adjustments to the plan. Bob sent along some of the details based on our last meeting for us to review. I think we’re getting there!

Upstairs bath

First, the upstairs bathroom. Early on we had discussed using glass block to partition the shower and tub area from the toilet and sink area, and then using a sliding glass door to close the partition and give the toilet area some privacy when someone is in the tub. Without going too much into details, Bill and I decided that such an arrangement really wouldn’t work for the way we live, and the extra expense for a feature we wouldn’t use was dumb. (Although I really would like one day to have a good place to use the stainless steel barn door hardware.) What we ended up with is a little more traditional layout, with a drop-in tub instead of an alcove one which means we’ll probably have some tile. I am really not looking forward to picking out tiles, because there are just too many to choose from (and nearly all of it is beige). Decoration aside, I think this layout will work really well. I would open the shower door the other direction, though (hinges north).

Accessible Bath

We’ve spent a lot of time on M’s main bath. Most ADA-style bath layouts assume the person is either totally independent in their wheelchair or totally dependent, and M is neither. We really struggled with arranging things for the way she lives now (needing very short distances between fixtures so she doesn’t have to walk far nor stand long) and planning for the future (be sure that her bath could accomodate her, a wheelchair and an assistant). Therefore, we’ve got the bath arranged so she can use it now, and will plan on modifying it when the need arises. There will be plumbing in the South wall so that there is space next to the toilet for a chair and a helper. (Should we have “Future Sink” put on the plan for the bids?)

Basement fireplace

Making appliance selections as early as possible gives one the opportunity to design the space for the object. We knew we wanted a wood-burning fireplace in the basement lower level, and we knew that it would need a chimney. Everything seemed to work out with the fireplace on the east wall, until we realized that the chimney would go right past the east window in our bedroom. When we decided on this fireplace, we looked at the installation instructions and determined that while the chimney can make certain bends, it would probably be easier to install (and possibly a more effective chimney) if we were to put the fireplace in the corner. This is fine with us. We don’t mind sitting with our backs to the windows in winter evenings

Here’s what the chimney will look like. We love the metal tubing, and aren’t interested in boxing it in stone or anything.

Oh, and look for the zeppelin! (Or, more properly, dirigible.) Here’s a possible model — the USS Akron.

Yesterday we went to the lot and were overwhelmed by the shrubs.

We’re not sure if these are honeysuckle, or Russian (or Autumn) olive, but they’re in the way and they’re fast growing and they’re taking over and they’ll have to go.

Just in case you don’t believe me, here are some views of our lot over the years (thanks to the county website!)

In 1998, the land was farmed:

In 2002, it was fallow (the subdivision was started in 2003/2004):

In 2005 you can see our (newly constructed) driveway, as well as the ATV/Snowmobile tracks our inconsiderate neighbors have started:

In 2007, you can see individual shrubs. These things have grown 12 feet high and 20 feet around in 5 years:

Since we don’t want to have a scrub view, we’ll have to do some pulling. The county extension suggests that we chop them at the base and then paint the stumps with brush killer. It’s sad for the birds, but man, these things will take over soon!

Continuing with the “easy” decisions, I’ve added a Page for the Garage. I’m showing a white garage door with some hardware. The hardware isn’t necessary (and in fact, I wouldn’t use it at all). I would also consider painting the door to match the house color instead of leaving it white.

The inside of the garage will be unfinished. That can come later (perhaps we’ll practice our drywalling skills?) There will be a spigot inside (if we can get it at a reasonably comfortable height, that would be nice) that bypasses the water treatment system. This is (mostly) so we can get plant water in winter.

We’ve recently set up a private project management system + wiki to keep track of stuff. I’ve been wanting to get some of the information (as we flesh out ideas) from there and put it here. There’s no good automated way to do it, and if I simply make a post then it will get lost. It’s already quite difficult for me to find stuff I’ve talked about (or did I merely delicious it?).

Therefore, I’m going to be creating Pages (see the left sidebar) that addresses certain big topics, for instance, M’s suite. Once we have some more-or-less fixed design plans for each area, I’ll be posting more. Anytime I update the Pages I’ll make a post.

Hopefully this will help us remember decisions we’ve already made, so we don’t have to keep revisiting them!

I’ve been considering the driveway. Why? Because it’s a break from fireplaces and tubs and awnings and floors and…

One type of drive we’ve been considering is “tar and chip“. It’s the same road that you might find in rural areas — sort of a compromise between macadam and dirt — gravel embedded in tar.

Another possible driveway surface is concrete. Concrete is pricey, but it tends not to be as hot as asphalt (or tar) in the summer. However, it’s a hard surface, and since our driveway would be near the high point of the lot, we would have to figure out what to do with the runoff. One way to solve this is with pervious concrete. This is concrete with a relatively new formulation that allows water to go straight to ground, slowing its progress into the local watershed.

The problem with both of these materials is sourcing them. I’ve tried calling a couple of concrete companies, but no one has returned any of my calls. So I’ll keep trying.

We had an intense 2.5 hour session going over the first series of construction drawings. I’ve had them a couple of weeks, penciling in questions and changes and selections. I’ve been trying to get the list in shape to post here, but it’s slow going because I keep getting sidetracked.

The discussion ranged from bathroom layouts (I think we’ve finally got it) to where to put the lights to the zeppelin weathervane. What didn’t I tell you about the zeppelin? That will have to be custom made, because while there are plenty of cars, boats, cats and wine bottle weathervanes, there are no zeppelins.

Rather than go through everything that was on the list I had (especially since we did it face-to-face — imagine that!), I just want to address a couple of points that came up during our meeting.

First: The underlayment for Marmoleum. From Scott at G&K: it’s 1/4″ nominal (5.2-6mm) exterior grade solid core plywood, smooth one side. If we want it to butt up to hardwood with minimal transition (and we would), would need more underlayment (say 3/8-1/2″).

Second: Belvedere windows. Casements to the south, awnings to the north. Nothing like compromise

Third: Kitchen fireplace. Still working on it.

Fourth: Retractible Awnings. I really don’t like this idea. I have very bad experiences with them from my youth. Would an exterior window shade be effective? Related to that — do we want some sort of shade over the M’s bedroom window, or will the roof overhang be enough?

Fifth: Yard Hydrant. Much like these.

Sixth: Exterior window trim. I made this little movie from a pdf I painted in Photoshop (using the James Hardie Countrylane Red). I think I’d like to have the trim, and Bill does too, except for the vertical windows at the library. The white bit between them may want to be red.

That’s it for the moment. More to come!

[cross-posted to Notional Slurry]

We’ve made a lot of progress on the Nudge project recently, and it’s time to think seriously about potential applications. Infrastructure is in place for automatic discovery of structures, algorithms, patterns, models, equations… but when you’re building a tool it’s all just play-talk until you consider some interesting challenges and see if you can frame them readily as something your tool seems useful for.

At breakfast yesterday Barbara and I spent some time riffing on various “hard” design and optimization problems that it would be nice to solve. And since we’re thinking of our ubiquitous and time-stealing house, her thoughts went towards HVAC.

In particular, the esoteric (but economically important) calculation of how to size air cooling equipment for a building. The standard — that is, the Standard — is spelled out in Manual J, now in its eighth edition from the ACCA.

Here’s how it works, in principle: You want to build a house? You’ve got it designed, with floorplans and siting and what most folks think of as “design” done? Well, how large does your A/C system need to be?

A good salesman or contractor, especially one who doesn’t really care how much money you spend after you leave his care, he can pick something he’s familiar with that’s “big enough” to manage temperature control and ventilation and such, regardless of whether your house is super-insulated or what fancy-dancy windows you’ve got. Heck, that’s easy: the biggest you can afford.

If you press a professional contractor that this kind of approximation isn’t exactly what you had in mind when you set out to save energy costs and create a “smartish” house and save in both short and long-term, he can turn to Manual J to do a “proper” calculation.

Manual J is big. I haven’t seen the copy I’ve ordered from the library yet—and even that’s the abridged version—but I know that there’s a complex algorithmic calculation. The required cooling load calculation of a house depends on the size and position and material of windows, the overall envelope, the insulation, position, geographical location, foliage cover, exposed foundation, ceiling heights… loads of stuff you might consider “design variables” if you weren’t already holding a finished house plan in your hands. As far as I understand it, the contractor enters this information into an ACCA-designed spreadsheet, Excel stuff happens, and out pops a slightly less salesmanlike estimate of the HVAC needs of your house. And then you can refer to Manual S to pick out equipment.

Now looking at the ACCA description of the work, I’m seeing things like this:

MJ8 also accommodates homes that have exceptional architectural features and life style accessories such as:

• Dwellings that have limited exposure or no exposure diversity
• Homes with large south-facing glass area or rooms with unusually large glass area
• A thermally isolated solarium
• Customized internal load estimates
• …

And so on, for 561 pages, nominally.

Now you might be able to see where I’m heading by now, and you’d probably be right: That’s sounds like a nice place to slap a pattern discovery system.

And so I think we will.

But what I’m sitting here thinking about is the ACCA itself, and the social process that goes into eight consecutive editions of this sprawling empirical model. There must be reams of data… somewhere, and there must be reports and whitepapers and supporting evidence that makes clear the design process underlying the Manual J model (let alone everything up the Manual S (which is the highest-lettered I’ve seen so far).

As an indirect customer of the ACCA, I have to say it would be nice to have access to that data. To try to determine whether a simpler, clearer model might be more accurate and robust than this spreadsheet. A history of the models, a public record of how things are done. Oh, hell, maybe a conversation about what might actually be going on.

But I’m a dreamer, surely. Somebody has to pay for all that data collection. Not everybody is trained well enough to manage the complex calculations underlying the first-principles models or the empirical analyses. What would happen to standards of quality if anybody could chime in and criticize or amend something as important as these calculations?

After all, the goal of the ACCA is to make “the industry more successful.”

Nonetheless, I’d like to be considered a part of that industry, speaking as a technically astute consumer who pays their bills. I’m more successful whenever expertise is not masked by obfuscatory gravitas, when decisions can be clearly justified, when data can be re-used and expanded at will. When people can see what’s going on inside, and participate.

So I’m increasingly tempted to reach into the building trades, specifically through their multitudinous standards organizations, and start chipping away at some silo walls.