Oh, Ivar. I welcome you back into my life. It’s been too long, my old friend. The smell of your freshly cut pine (are you pine?) once again fills my office nook. Your presence brings me nearly full circle through my life of home furnishing. I thought you were gone, but you return once again, standing ready to hold my books and assorted bits.

As a bachelor, my idea of furniture was a mattress on the ground, a card table and folding chairs for the kitchen and a cast off sofa that had seen far better days. Shelving was easy. Two stolen Carnation milk crates did most of the job, followed by an investment at Builders Emporium (think Home Depot; they closed years ago) in breeze blocks and wood planks to build a make-shift shelf to hold my books.

Ikea came along right when I got married. How could you not love it? It offered furniture at reasonable prices. Having little money, Ikea was perfect as a way to have a real kitchen table, a real bed and yes, real shelves.

I remember endlessly debating the Ivar choices. Did I want those cool corner shelves? Could I afford them? Did I want five shelves or six? And look at all those cool add-ons. A table that can fold out from the shelves. In the end, it was the basic set-up, that ladder-like standard horizontal shelf that forms the core of any Ivar installation.

In Britain, Ivar returned again to my life. In an actual house, I again needed shelving. Ivar still seemed the best of the options, an easy “disposable” way to get things off the floor until I figured out exactly what I wanted to do for a more permanent solution. Budget no longer being an issue, I splurged. I had those lights along the top shelf, to illuminate my storage. Two cabinets — actual doors on them! — to store stationary and other goods. A pull out drawer on the bottom, along with another set of six smaller drawers in a unit.

Eventually, the Ivar was replaced in my office. But the Ivar pieces still hung in there. I used the six-drawer unit on its own, even putting it on rollers that I improvised. The shelves migrated to the garage, as did one of the cabinets. Another cabinet, I gave it short legs so that it could be used on its own. That’s the thing about Ivar. I was like native hunters that used every part of an animal; having slaughtered my Ivar set-up, I still used all of its parts in other ways. Except those damn lights.

The Ivar came with me in the move back to Newport Beach. Shelves went back in the garage, where they continue to serve me well. The six drawer unit until this weekend was tucked under my desk, holding electronics of all types, card readers, USB sticks, extended-life computer batteries and more. But I cleaned out another unit that could easily hold the same stuff, meaning the six drawers could go away. For the first time in years, my office was Ivar free.

But in the clean-out, room along the wall was freed up, perfect for some time of shelf to hold my books, which remains trapped within cardboard boxes. I hear them scream — let us out! Plus, i just like to look at them, my friends acquired over the years from being a kid. Needing a solution of some time, it was time for a trip back to Ikea. I hesitated in considering Ivar, knowing that almost like a child, I’d be gaining a new piece of furniture for life no matter how temporary it seems. But after reviewing all the options, it was that same standard Ivar horizontal shelf from all those years ago that was the best solution.

So I sit back in Newport Beach, the sun coming through the window, warming the wood Ivar shelves across from it, reminding me of those many years ago. I’ve got some space just below the window. Maybe I’ll get some breeze blocks and a plank of wood….

The great tree house building project continued on today. When I left off, there was the challenge of digging holes deep enough for my four supporting poles. I dug in, pun intended, this morning to make a serious dent in the ground.

In the end, I utilized a small, obscure tool I forgot we had — a pickaxe. Roots chopped, that corkscrew machine thing I’d rented helped me get down to around two feet for each hole. Good enough. I finished the frame, remembered to put those big poles INSIDE the frame and went to lunch:

After lunch (and after sneaking of to do some work even though I’m supposed to be vacating, heh), it was time to sink those poles properly and attach them to the frame. That wasn’t too complicated, and I got everything all bolted together:

Later I poured in the “Postcrete” that’s supposed to be an add water and get instant concrete solution. We’ll see in the morning. Of course, there’s no work going on tomorrow. With finally a clear day predicted here for England, we’re off to Legoland.

I’m on vacation this week, which meant staying at home but trying not to do much work. Instead, my big project is to construct a long-promised tree house with my boys, for my boys.

I’ve always wanted to build a tree house. Years and years ago at the Los Angeles Times, I even wrote an article about people who did them. The only problem is my general ineptness at building things. But a perfectly built treehouse is not required. What’s required is to have fun building the thing with my boys (rather than, you know, telling them to stand back and be bored watching me try to do it).

To get me started, I was given a great book for Father’s Day: Tree Houses You Can Actually Build. Well, I think it’s a great book. So far, it’s got me going and seems to have plenty of good advice. But the construction has only started!

After surveying the garden (that’s British for “yard” rather than being that little plot of ground within the backyard where you grow flowers or vegetables, the right tree was found. Here it is:

Maybe it’s a beech; I don’t know. My wife’s domain is the garden, so I’ll ask her and update later. All I know is that it’s a tree that looked good enough for the tree house. And the tree house? My book has plans for a “One Tree” tree house (as opposed to building across two trees, three and so on). This plan seemed simple, so I decided to go for it:

When I’m done, I’m sure happy children will frolic exactly as shown in this illustration. Heh. We’ll see.

Of course, I’ve already complicated things by altering the plan. It’s a big tree, with lots of room. Why not make this a two story tree house? Why not might be because I’ve never built anything like this, but shush! Who’s not up for a challenge?

Here’s my plan:

You’ll see at the bottom that there are four supporting poles that run to the tree, but then there are four poles going straight down. The original plans use the tree for support. But me, I’m paranoid. I figure posts going down will be safer. Plus, foolish me, I figured sinking poles into the ground would be easier than doing strange diagonal cuts. Silly, silly me.

Effectively, I’m building a club house around a tree. So why bother with the tree at all? Shush! Part of it is attached to the tree for support, plus it’s around the tree, so it feels treehouseish.

Next, it was time for wood. The cross beams for the original plans said to use 2×6 boards and not to make them longer than 7 feet. But that seemed not to give enough floor space for the tree house I wanted. Then a page in the book talked about using 2×8 beams for spans of 8 feet. So I figured I’d use those. That added some complications I’ll get to later. Have I mentioned never having done this before?

I worked out what I needed for the framing, the floor and so on. Then I called the local wood place, where I discovered that oddly, everything is done in metric. Oddly? Look, Britain like the US is one of the few places left that tends to use gallons, inches (this is why we learn multiplication to our 12s, right?) and goodness, stones for weight (I’m at 11 stone 13 pounds, by the way — 5 pounds to go!).

Fortunately, the guy on the phone was pretty good and knowing what a 2×4 translated into metric (that’s 47x100mm). We went through everything, then he gave me the price, and I tried not to fall out of my chair. Wood. Expensive. Who knew? Apparently (according to Michelle, who is recovering from Sphinn building), hurricanes and tsunamis have caused the price of wood to shoot up. So now I feel guilty for using it at all!

With the wood ordered, it was tree surgery time while we waited. Some of those lower branches had to go. Fortunately, I had help:

That done, happy times as the wood arrived. Here’s it gets lifted over our wall by crane:

Um, maybe I ordered too much! I also realized that the plans call for two 2×6 beams to be nailed to the tree, with two more above that, like this:

But I went for 2×8 beams, remember? So if I cross these puppies, I’m getting pretty high into the tree already!

My thought is that I probably will only use two cross-beams attached to the tree, rather than four. That’s because I’ve got these four massive poles to also support it. Right? Right? I mean they’re like 13 feet tall and when attached to the floor should make having four cross beams unnecessary.

Next up, to actually start construction. Do you realize it’s hard to know the mid-point of a tree that has a trunk that bends? And isn’t the same size all around? I put the beam up initially, then took it down to try and shift it over in a way that made me feel the tree house will be largely centered around the tree, when done.

The good news is that three nails were all it took to get it initially in place and fairly secure enough to think about getting the next beam up:

That’s when it was time for a trip to the tool store, as required when doing any construction project!

See, I didn’t have a level big enough to stretch across from the next beam to the first, to make sure they were level. And the book is very, very clear and insistent that the floor needs to be level. I’m fairly paranoid about it, now. So I went to the store, also thinking getting some galvanized nails that won’t rust will be good. I resisted the urge to get a laser level because (1) I’ve never used one and (2) frankly, an ordinary level seemed just fine. As for the nails, like what’s the issue with Focus (that’s like a Home Depot here, only less so) not carrying 5″ galvanized nails. Well, maybe they won’t rust before the wood rots. I also got some thick bolts to screw the board to the tree properly. No, even I am not lame enough to think those three nails (they were fairly short) would do it.

Back home, it was time to put that other board up, making sure it was exactly even lengthwise with the first one and also level with it. Making it level was easy. Just put the level across the two, shout a lot about “bring your side up” to my wife who was enlisted to help, and you’re level. And once hammered in, you find one board is sticking out like two inches longer than the other.

Yank off the tree, some marking with pencil, guessing at mid-points and eventually it was up. Later on, I found the book talked about things like using strings to mark diagonals and stuff to know if they’re lengthwise equal. Shush, it doesn’t have to be perfect. Plus, who has time for stringing diagonals when that board is heavy, you’re trying to hammer it with one hand and your boys are feeling pretty bored (“can we hammer yet?” — and yes, later they finally did get to hammer)

Both boards in place, I could finally measure out where the corners of the floor frame will be (that’s tomorrow’s job), so that I could dig holes for them.

Did I say dig? Oh, no digging. See, it’s a big tree, and old one too, and it has roots everywhere. That requires machinery. Such as this petrol-powered earth auger I rented from Brandon:

Nice. I mean look, there’s a pole exactly like I want to sink deep in the hole this thing made.

Now the guy at the shop told my wife (who kindly picked it up) that it has trouble with roots. My vision of starting it and quickly drilling two or three foot holes soon disappeared. I’m down maybe a foot, and it’s WORK using one of these. Once, it spun me completely around (sorry, no video available).

What I really need is this bigger hydraulic one, but I doubt that will fit in the car. Instead, tomorrow, I’m going to try what I’ve got a bit more. I figure two feet deep should be enough.

Of course, I’m rethinking the entire four pole idea. For fun, I tried putting one in to the deepest hole I’d made. Lifting it in on my own made me feel I was in some Scottish caber tossing contest. I also found that it was hitting some of the branches I assumed would be well above the roof of my planned construction.

Hmm. These poles are heavy, and if they aren’t in deep enough, they’ll pop right out of those holes under their own weight. But then again, once they’re attached to the floor frame, they won’t be moving about. And the weight of the tree house itself should help keep the poles secure. Right? Right?

I’ll try for two feet deep and see how it goes. I can always cut the poles off at the first floor, then use separate pieces as part of the first floors frame. Right? Right?

Here’s where the day left off:

Wish me luck. More construction follows tomorrow!

Yesterday was DIY day around my house. That’s Do It Yourself day, for those
not up on the acronym. I have to say that because of how I’m
losing track of what’s a
British word and what’s an American word over time. When I came to Britain about
10 years ago, everyone talked about DIY. Then about five years ago, I once used
DIY in a column I was writing for an American magazine, and my editor asked me
what I was talking about. Today, I hear Americans saying it. So maybe it’s safe
to use.

What did I do? Whatever my wife told me, and there was a plenty long list. I
hate DIY, as I’ll explain further below. So I avoid it now, drag myself to it
only when I can no longer avoid it. The tasks build, and it’s my job to fulfill
them. I:

• Hung a mirror in the bathroom
   
• Hung some glass candle holder thing
   
• Ran an extension cord (excuse me, a "power lead") in the living room
   
• Verified that loose wire hanging in the living room really isn’t live and
  won’t kill someone
   
• Reassembled our small stereo and hooked the iPod base to it, so that we
  can have music again in the living room. Cords even all nicely hidden, too.
   
• Hung Christmas lights on the porch trellis, using copious amounts of
  staples. Staple gunning is fun DIY
   
• Got the Christmas tree into the house and in its base

I would happily employ someone to do all of these things. I’ve reached that
point on the time versus money scale that it makes more sense for me to hire
someone. But you can’t. Really. You can’t get good people to do small tasks like
these. We’ve tried occasionally, and it’s just easier for me to do them myself.
Not that I want to, of course.

Any task I undertake has to be accompanied by great huffing and noise. This
is to establish for my wife what a huge effort I’m undertaking. None of these
tasks are that bad, but I think the theatrics add to the experience.

No task can be done with fewer than five tools. Hang a mirror? Why I will
need the awl to punch a hole, the level to measure it, the drill to drill the
whole, the hammer to tap in whatever you call those things that the screws go
into. The screws go in with a cordless screwdriver, and I need regular
screwdriver in case the charge has gone down and they don’t go in all the way.
That’s just the mirror.

Honestly, there’s no task so small that I can’t concoct a need for multiple
tools. After all, I’ve got them. I went through that first new house madness
about eight years ago, where I actually liked the idea of doing up the house.

We ripped up carpets, and I sanded floorboards. I sledge-hammered out
fireplaces that had long been plastered over. I scrubbed clean old tiles that
looked great when done, even if the work required a combination of wire brush,
steel wool, occasionally using a sander on my drill and other methods.

Any job started with a trip to the home supply store, HomeBase or B&Q, the
two major chains here. I own two different drills (corded and cordless, for when
I need lots of power versus convenience); four different hammers (light tapping,
pounding nails and breaking things and really breaking things); three different
sanders (belt, rotary and a little mouse thing for close work) and a bunch of
other stuff. I’ve even used most of it. I needn’t buy anything further, at this
point.

Perhaps that’s why I’m done with DIY. There’s nothing else to buy. And I’ve
lost the desire with the second house. It’s not fun. It’s just a time suck on my
already too short weekend.

Still, DIY has its moments. Yesterday I used a screw that I had inherited
back when I was a teenager, that’s been sitting in a glass jar with other screws
for that "just in case I need this odd type of screw" moment. That screw has
followed me from my home when I was a kid, to college, to multiple apartments in
the US, to an apartment in the UK, then to two different houses in the UK to
finally get used. Good noble screw, you’ve finally found your use after so many
years and so long a trip.

Nevertheless, I’m still happy to yield DIY if I can. Someone I met once told
me a hilarious story that I won’t entirely wreck of how he used to change his
oil but finally stopped after nearly wrecking his car. A coworker sat him down
and explained that the oil changing guy isn’t going to do his job so don’t do be
the oil changing guy.

Right now, Terry is painting our bedroom. He did our dining room last week. I
will happily pay Terry to do painting as long as he wants. He’s been doing it
for 25 years or more and makes my idea of painting a room seem a joke. He does
it with care, huge amounts of preparation and makes rooms fantastic. If only
there was a Terry for those DIY jobs I so hate now, having burned myself out on
them after doing the first house! Then again, perhaps I really would miss the
theatrics and the ritual of assembling the many required tools for each job.
Nah!