When we first contemplated the building project in which we now find ourselves immersed, we realized that we needed more land if we were to achieve our goal. When my father-in-law bought the property, back in the 1960’s, the lot size was only about 6000 square feet, with little or no actual water frontage. Our original cottage stood on a small, pie-shaped parcel of land, and the way the house was positioned on the lot, the Taylors only owned about ten feet of land off their back door. Over the years, my father-in-law managed to acquire from the town what was known as the shoreline allowance, providing him with water frontage and bringing the lot size up to about one half acre. To make a very long story short, after three years of meetings with the Township of Armour, to close a road allowance abutting our property to the rear, and after much negotiation with our ever patient next door neighbors to swap land involved with that road allowance, including over a year of dealings with surveyors, lawyers, accountants, planners, marriage counselors, psychiatrists, witch doctors, etc., we acquired the additional land we wanted. The land swap was mutually beneficial, because we increased our lot size to conform with new town guidelines for minimum lot size, and in turn, our neighbors acquired a good deal of valuable water frontage to improve their lot. As any cottage real estate expert will tell you, water frontage is gold. Although the actual land acquisition and site plans were approved by the town months ago, the final recording of the deeds did not take place until several weeks ago.
When the transfer was finally a matter of public record, Shauna and I invited the neighbors, with whom we’d exchanged land, over to enjoy a celebratory glass of champagne out on our dock. It wasn’t a very fancy celebration - all our patio furniture is stashed away somewhere on this log-littered lot – and we used log ends for seats and a table. Champagne was served in plastic cups, and hors d’ouevres consisted of a bag of corn chips and some smoked oysters and cheese and crackers provided by the neighbors. The mood was congenial and we had a very pleasant time with our new found friends. As the sun began to set, and we were about to return to the claustrophobic confines of our trailer to make our dinner, we noticed a man and a woman on a jet ski, circling around in the lake in front of our place, presumably inspecting our unfinished home. We’re fairly used to curious onlookers at this point, because a log home under construction is really something to behold. Most folks in boats wave, and we wave back. These people were likely not from around here … perhaps they came from the nearby trailer park, or perhaps from the public beach. Not only did they not wave, but as they zoomed off, we all heard the man scream “F-CKING RICH SNOBS!!!!” And YOU have a nice day as well! The obvious lack of respect represented by this unprovoked and boorish comment was a reminder that settling in a small town is no guarantee that one will or can avoid mean-spirited people. That nasty comment reminded me of the big-city ugliness from which we are trying to extricate ourselves. Whether the comment was inspired by beer, or envy, or unfair judgment, or latent road rage rearing its ugly head at an inopportune moment, or a combination of all of these things; it was decidedly bad karma, and it was upsetting to all of us.
They say that karma is a bitch, and I believe that there is yin and yang to every action, Perhaps nothing that we do is absent the judgment of someone else who does not understand us or our actions. If I have learned anything in my 51 years, it is that there will always be someone out there to rain on my parade. I suppose I grudgingly accept this fact, and I’ll eventually shrug off this minor example of human ugliness. Nevertheless, it’s sad fact that, in some microcosmic way, just such a misunderstanding probably accounts for three quarters of the aggression in the world. Now, I find myself diffusing my anger with my imagination. I comfort myself by picturing, somewhere out in the middle of the big lake, night closing in and the warmth of the summer sun replaced by the cold, damp chill of the Northern Ontario night, that man and that woman, out of gas and helplessly adrift on their jet ski, unassisted by the throngs of otherwise friendly “f-cking rich snobs” … and I raise my plastic cup full of champagne to toast their well-deserved misfortune.
- Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2007 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Log Home Photos up to 7/27/07
Second floor almost completely stacked. First floor with first coat of stain...Next week the final shipment of logs, and hopefully the commencement of the roof system.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
The OppenheimerReport
I was watching the Discovery Channel the other night, because I am a learning machine, and the show I watched was called “101 Things Removed.” It dealt with various objects doctors have extracted from human bodies. The stories of how the accidents occurred were fascinating, but the actual pictures were pretty grizzly. Among my favorites: an anchor embedded in a skull of a fisherman, a frog skewer through the cheekbone and eye canal of a frog hunter, a diamond necklace extracted from a jewel thief’s anus, a swordfish snout shoved through the skull above the left eye of a fisherman, a two by four through the neck of a tornado victim, a live grenade embedded in a soldier’s leg, an ice axe embedded in the leg of a mountain climber, and the piece de resistance: the calcified remains of a twin fetus removed from a man’s stomach. That might have been the strangest thing I have ever seen. What a nice change over what has been an almost steady diet of log home magazines and HGTV shows about unscrupulous contractors.
“Harry Potter and the Unbearable Flatulence” went on sale this week, and millions of hopeful readers are frothing in anticipation of this last installment of the wildly popular series. It never ceases to amaze me that there are groups of concerned citizens out there campaigning to ban the Harry Potter books because of references to wizardry and black magic. Let’s throw Mother Goose on the bonfire while we’re at it. Heaven forbid children should be inspired to read. I don’t know about you, but I’ve been noticing a substantial drop in communication skills among the 20somethings, and I think any literature which inspires kids to read is a good thing. I actually heard a guy say that he had been “conversating” with someone the other day. Forget the King’s English; we’re down to the court jester’s English. By the way, if you don’t feel like reading the book, I’ll tell you how it ends … Harry dies in a tragic methane explosion.
If any of you are still reading this “report” you may have reached the saturation point in discussions about our log home. As we spend almost every waking hour on this construction site, we may be reaching the saturation point as well. After the past week, we’ve reached that point in the building process where it seems as if we are pushing a rock up a hill. There have been a lot of unforeseen setbacks, and construction is far behind schedule. Two weeks ago, our stackers discovered that three critical logs were absent from the last load of logs, and this little setback held up the entire building process for almost a week. Unlike stick frame houses, wherein any 2x4 will do, logs must be stacked in sequence. We may begin to get back on schedule this week, if the rain abates. Weather has been the other deterrent, and we’ve had very unusual weather for the past two weeks. I may just post some photos next week of the progress to date, and skip the editorializing. Conversate amongst yourselves.
-Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2007 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
“Harry Potter and the Unbearable Flatulence” went on sale this week, and millions of hopeful readers are frothing in anticipation of this last installment of the wildly popular series. It never ceases to amaze me that there are groups of concerned citizens out there campaigning to ban the Harry Potter books because of references to wizardry and black magic. Let’s throw Mother Goose on the bonfire while we’re at it. Heaven forbid children should be inspired to read. I don’t know about you, but I’ve been noticing a substantial drop in communication skills among the 20somethings, and I think any literature which inspires kids to read is a good thing. I actually heard a guy say that he had been “conversating” with someone the other day. Forget the King’s English; we’re down to the court jester’s English. By the way, if you don’t feel like reading the book, I’ll tell you how it ends … Harry dies in a tragic methane explosion.
If any of you are still reading this “report” you may have reached the saturation point in discussions about our log home. As we spend almost every waking hour on this construction site, we may be reaching the saturation point as well. After the past week, we’ve reached that point in the building process where it seems as if we are pushing a rock up a hill. There have been a lot of unforeseen setbacks, and construction is far behind schedule. Two weeks ago, our stackers discovered that three critical logs were absent from the last load of logs, and this little setback held up the entire building process for almost a week. Unlike stick frame houses, wherein any 2x4 will do, logs must be stacked in sequence. We may begin to get back on schedule this week, if the rain abates. Weather has been the other deterrent, and we’ve had very unusual weather for the past two weeks. I may just post some photos next week of the progress to date, and skip the editorializing. Conversate amongst yourselves.
-Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2007 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Monday, July 02, 2007
The Oppenheimer Report 7/2/07
A belated happy Canada Day to all my Canuckian pals, and a pre-emptive Happy Fourth to my Yankee friends. Every Fourth of July, I reminisce about the sweet old lady who used to sell illegal fireworks to us Buffalonians out of the back of her old pick up truck. She’d blow into town shortly before the Fourth and, like some rare seasonal wine, her wares were only available for a few precious hours, and only around the Fourth. For anyone who was serious about getting the most bang for their buck, she was the person to see. She really was quite adorable, wearing her asbestos drag racing hood. I remember the good old days when M-80’s were genuine, construction-grade M-80’s, and not just “poser” M-80’s, sold by opportunistic vendors out to fool the general public. Now you need a license to blow your fingers off. Our dogs hate the Fourth, and more than once, we had to pry one out from under the bed, when the cacophony of explosives became too much for her ears.
In anticipation of Canada Day, last Thursday, Dale, our crane operator, affixed a Canadian flag atop the 135 foot crane presently situated on our property. There were plenty of Canadian flags flying on the lake this past weekend, but I doubt any of them are as prominent as ours. I wanted to hoist a Jolly Roger as well, but I suppose that would have sent the wrong message.
Summer’s just flying by, and it’s been crazy weather up here in the Great White North. Last week it was hot enough to fry an egg on the hood of my car, and this weekend it was as cold and rainy as a typical Fall day. Fun fact: did you know there was a heat wave in Canada back in 1936 which lasted a little under two weeks and caused almost 1200 fatalities? Back then, 1200 people was about the population of Saskatchewan, so you can see that this was a no small catastrophe. I feel bad for all the city dwellers who, having endured the sweltering heat and humidity of Toronto all week, raced up to cottage country for their weekend of sun and fun, only to be greeted by rain and cold weather. Saturday was one of those crazy days wherein it rained every twenty minutes or so, but in between rainy spells, the clouds would part and the sun would shine, just long enough to fool everybody into thinking the bad weather had passed. Nature certainly can be a mother sometimes. Does anyone else remember that summer, back in the Eighties, after Mount Pinatubo erupted and spewed ash into the air, affecting weather patterns around the globe? During almost that entire summer, there was a cycle of bad weather wherein it would be beautiful all week, then around 5PM on Friday it would cloud up, only to remain miserable until dusk on Sunday. It was like clockwork, and a real ball buster for the weekend warriors.
The other day, while we were giving Jasper her bi-weekly ear plucking, suddenly we heard a loud crash outside. When we looked out, we saw that our propane-fired Skeeter-Vac had been tipped over, and there, amidst the scattered garbage in front of the RV was a small black bear licking an empty can of pop. Now I’m beginning to wonder if some of the mess we’ve attributed to the raccoon gangs (see recent report), were actually the signs of this little bear. Because the food supply is scarce right now, and the bears are hungry, they are becoming more “resourceful” in their foraging. So far this summer, there have been more bear sightings than usual up here in cottage country, and cottagers would do well to be vigilant. While black bears are usually not aggressive, we know of one incident in the past week where a problem black bear got into a friend’s house. The bear charged, and the residents ended up taking refuge in their car. That bear even chased them up their driveway as they drove off. Never a dull moment up here in cottage country! - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2007 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
In anticipation of Canada Day, last Thursday, Dale, our crane operator, affixed a Canadian flag atop the 135 foot crane presently situated on our property. There were plenty of Canadian flags flying on the lake this past weekend, but I doubt any of them are as prominent as ours. I wanted to hoist a Jolly Roger as well, but I suppose that would have sent the wrong message.
Summer’s just flying by, and it’s been crazy weather up here in the Great White North. Last week it was hot enough to fry an egg on the hood of my car, and this weekend it was as cold and rainy as a typical Fall day. Fun fact: did you know there was a heat wave in Canada back in 1936 which lasted a little under two weeks and caused almost 1200 fatalities? Back then, 1200 people was about the population of Saskatchewan, so you can see that this was a no small catastrophe. I feel bad for all the city dwellers who, having endured the sweltering heat and humidity of Toronto all week, raced up to cottage country for their weekend of sun and fun, only to be greeted by rain and cold weather. Saturday was one of those crazy days wherein it rained every twenty minutes or so, but in between rainy spells, the clouds would part and the sun would shine, just long enough to fool everybody into thinking the bad weather had passed. Nature certainly can be a mother sometimes. Does anyone else remember that summer, back in the Eighties, after Mount Pinatubo erupted and spewed ash into the air, affecting weather patterns around the globe? During almost that entire summer, there was a cycle of bad weather wherein it would be beautiful all week, then around 5PM on Friday it would cloud up, only to remain miserable until dusk on Sunday. It was like clockwork, and a real ball buster for the weekend warriors.
The other day, while we were giving Jasper her bi-weekly ear plucking, suddenly we heard a loud crash outside. When we looked out, we saw that our propane-fired Skeeter-Vac had been tipped over, and there, amidst the scattered garbage in front of the RV was a small black bear licking an empty can of pop. Now I’m beginning to wonder if some of the mess we’ve attributed to the raccoon gangs (see recent report), were actually the signs of this little bear. Because the food supply is scarce right now, and the bears are hungry, they are becoming more “resourceful” in their foraging. So far this summer, there have been more bear sightings than usual up here in cottage country, and cottagers would do well to be vigilant. While black bears are usually not aggressive, we know of one incident in the past week where a problem black bear got into a friend’s house. The bear charged, and the residents ended up taking refuge in their car. That bear even chased them up their driveway as they drove off. Never a dull moment up here in cottage country! - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2007 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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