the bathroom renovation, part one: the shower side

Greeting, family, friends, and internet trolls! I'm about to fill your eyeholes with images of the recently (mostly) completed bathroom renovation at Rockey Manor. It's going to be intense. If you need some time to prepare yourself, THIS SHOULD GET YOU IN THE MOOD.

And away we go.

For almost three years, our little family has learned to perform all bathroom related tasks in a less-than-stress-free bathroom that has been in varying stages of decay. This decay includes but is certainly not limited to the rotting wood floor that the toilet sits precariously upon. At the time of this writing, the toilet patron casualty total is still zero.

Seeing as how aesthetics are currently a non-concern in the garbage bathroom, Baby Jane and I began writing messages on the wall facing the toilet (see above pic). We try to find little ways to make the best of a kinda crappy situation (pun absolutely intended).

Now let's take a look at the major overhaul that's been going on upstairs while we've been sharing a bathroom with CAVE CRICKETS on the first floor.

When we first took a gander at our soon-to-be home/project, the first space we toured on the second floor was this kitchenette. This once-single room had had its doorway opened up to the ceiling and been divided in to a kitchenette and very narrow "bathing closet". We assume that the door used for the bathroom portion of this space once served as the door to the hallway. We would, in due time, return that door to it's rightful place. Stay tuned for more on that door situation.

Upon stepping inside the aforementioned "bathing closet" we would find this faux "crumbling" plastered chimney next to a compressed board basin cabinet and winterized commode. 

On the other end of this narrow space was the diminutive bathing tub you see pictured below...

Yikes. This tub seriously wouldn't accommodate anyone larger than an eleven-year-old child.

Once we acquired ownership of our home, the first order of business was to beat the everliving hell out of it. We ripped out any walls that weren't part of the original structure including the one you no longer see here...

The bathing closet and former kitchenette have at long last been joined in holy matrimony and become one!

Hmmm...

Oh boy.

We pulled up all of the flooring that had been laid over the original wood floorboards and discarded all the old fixtures...

Hey. See that corner on the right where the tiny baby shower used to be? You could totally look right through the floor into the kitchen...

Hi there, sexy.

While we patiently demolished our future bathing room, our future bathing tub (donated by our more-than-generous neighbors) sat on our formerly enclosed front porch. It was a good place to sit and ponder on what the hell we were thinking when we signed up for this insane adventure.

We decided that the floor on the "bathing end" of the bathroom would be tiled. We pulled up the floorboards and prepared to install new sub-flooring by enlisting our old pal Mr Hummel to help us add some much needed structural support...

Look at him go.

It's like that level is an extension of his very being. Also notice that the plaster has been removed from the chimney. So chic, you freak.

After constructing a wall, floor, and bench for our walk-in shower, we talked Mr Hummel into returning to help us pour the concrete.

With the concrete poured and cement board screwed down to the floors and shower walls, we were ready to get tiling. Of course we knew that our efforts would need the guidance and steady hand of this master tile setter...

He's got those tiny, nimble fingers for those hard-to-reach corners.

Look, gang! 

We've got the makings of what appears to be a shower...

Moving on to the floor where our tub and toilet will sit...

MJ cutting tile like a boss...

Once all the tile was set, i shook off the dust from my once-fine-tuned grouting skills... 

Keep trying, fun boy.

One last pic before the final reveal...

Sub-floor space presented various opportunities for some creative plumbing solutions. 

Needless to say, we rose to the occasion. So far nothing seems to be crawling back up through the drain attached to that PVC monstrosity.

And now for the final reveal.

Before...

...aaaaaaaaaaaand...

After...

Before...

...aaaaaaaaaaaand...

After...

Before...

Ugh!

...aaaaaaaaaaaand...

After...

Who wouldn't wanna poop in that corner?

Stay tuned for 

Part Two: The Laundry Side

(and for more on the aforementioned "door situation")

sometimes it snows in april

I read the news and now I'm sitting in a public place eating chicken and waffle fries while my children scream and frolic with their friends in a plastic room that smells like feet.

The loss of Prince is shocking and sad for a great many of reasons. The man was only fifty seven! He was arguably at the top of his game (does he ever fail to astound when he's holding a guitar?) Oh, and also, like Bowie, he seemed impossibly, eternally ageless. 

I grew hearing of Prince and occasionally happening upon one of his songs here and there on the radio and the bygone music television channels of my youth. However, my real introduction to  the breadth of his mad genius came via one of my closest high school friends. 

 Beginning my junior year of high school and lasting well into our college days I spent countless hours as one of a rotating cast of characters riding in my friend Patrick's car. I remember he had one of those multiple disc changers that he had to load from the trunk. Among others, Patrick's compact disc collection consisted of Parliament, Lenny Kravitz, Queen, and mostly Prince. A shit ton of Prince. Our wise ass crew was never without a soundtrack to accompany our teenage shenanigans and you best believe those shenanigans were riding high on some funky New Power soul. 

Over the years, I became familiar with albums like Lovesexy and Sign O The Times and songs like "She's Always In My Hair" which weren't anything of which I had previously been aware or expected. I joined my friend on many a trek to record stores in search of one more Prince bootleg. I found myself caught up in conversations revolving around the details of this man's peculiar relationships with protégés and record companies. Eventually, regardless of how obsessive i may have found my friend's fandom to be, I got it. It only takes one glimpse of this guy letting loose on a guitar solo to realize you're experiencing something special. That swagger. That sly grin. Effortlessly manipulating that guitar. He was like Mozart and Hendrix and James Brown and like no one else before or after. 

 Many have and will continue to write more adequate words than I'm certainly able to conjure. These are my memories. Just a few memories of my formative years. Years which were set to a good deal of music composed and performed by this guy who changed his name as much as he changed his wardrobe. I'm grateful for the inspiration he's given to artists over the years. I'm grateful for these memories. 

Thanks Patrick. 

 Thanks Prince. 

my ally

This week, we celebrate sixty five youthful years of a son, brother, friend, teacher, father, mentor, grandfather, hero. 

I've forever admired my dad for so many reasons. We are incredibly different human beings and yet I consider him to be one of my closest allies. When he didn't know what else to do with me, he loved me. We've grown together. He makes me feel like he's my biggest fan and I hope that he knows that I am his. There isn't a day that goes by that I'm not grateful for his presence in my life. 

He held my ankle when I first learned to ride an incredibly still horse.

Together we crept through a sea of white people in incredibly tight short shorts...

And laughed at our fortune when we successfully made it out unscathed.

We once celebrated his birthday with a chocolate Garfield cake and I missed my chance to photograph him. Enduring one of my mild temper tantrums, he kept as cool, calm, and collected as anyone could expect while continuing to pose when I retrieved my camera.

Always a class act.

Let's cleanse the pallet with this adorable snapshot of the two of us passed out after an intense episode of M*A*S*H (I can only assume).

If there was ever any doubt about the man's style, one need look no further than this.

Here's to you, Dad!

what is and is not love

for no one (or welcome to the new age)

On a cold night in the twelfth month of the two-thousand and fifteenth year of our Lord, armed with nothing but his tone-deaf acoustic six-string, American treasure - singer-songwriter-noisemaker - Joel Rockey entered Space Station Caleb (the current ramshackle recording facility employed by The Mustard Room Sound Recordings) with the intention of recording tracks for a handful of new original compositions. However, in a twist of creative defiance, he let the tape machine roll as he instead plowed through an assortment of songs written by other people. No one else was present. No one cared. And yet here it is forever documented in this collection of zeros and ones for no one to listen to ever. Welcome to the new age, nerds.

a little bit off the top (slow and steady wins the race)

The monstrous maple who once encroached upon our roof and sprinkled our gutters with tiny helicopters has been scalped significantly. The results are startling. We thought it the perfect opportunity to compare the current street view with one from last summer.

Whoa.

Carry on.

here's what i think

An old friend reached out to me to ask if he could commission a drawing. He gave me these words:

"A bad mother funkin blues man! 

Thinking of a blues guitar player on a strat. 

What do you think?"

This dude measures 22x15 inches. He was signed and sent to the northeast side of Indy to live on someone else's wall. This was fun. Anyone else want to commission a drawing?

Holla.

holey dryer exhaust, batman

When renovating a home, sometimes one must make a four inch wide hole clean through an exterior wall for the purpose of venting one's dryer. This is just the way it is. Sooner or later, the time comes when cutting that hole just cannot be put off any longer.  You've got to hoist that monstrous ladder, crawl to the top rung and awkwardly handle sharp power tools at dangerous altitudes. But don't worry because if you measure and cut correctly, and if you're a little bit lucky, you just might be able to fit a dryer vent through that hole which can actually function to divert from your home the exhausted hot air that will soon be drying your recently laundered socks and undergarments. 

Here's a peek at the soon-to-be laundry nook in our soon-to-be family bathroom...

Things are looking right nice up there, folks! 

More on that bathroom very soon.

After attempting to install a less expensive aluminum dryer vent that fell apart several times, we returned to our local hardware retailer to exchange it for the more sleek, pricey, structurally sound model. As difficult as this decision was we were ultimately quite satisfied with the results. Sometimes, if you want a project done right, you got to spend them dollars. Amiright?

Ta-da!

Finally, as promised...

Batman.

So hawt.

the summer collection

Oh. Hello there, you. Can we all agree that it's been far too long since we caught up on things? I know, i know... it's been a super busy summer that was cut too short by the ensuing school year that just so happens to start up for our family in JULY FOR CRYING OUT LOUD ! ! !

No matter. We had a great summer full of hanging out with super rad people and equally rad kids at Camp Olivet for two weeks. We cranked out a few hundred t-shirts for friends and neighbors. We got to spend some serious chill time hanging with the folks in the Smoky Mountains and riding roller coasters on the island of kings with some old buds. 

Needless to say, we found a few minutes here and there to knock out a few projects and start a few more at the Rockey homestead. One such project included employing a jackhammer to slice and dice several obtrusive concrete shapes around the house. There are still a few jagged chunks available to anyone interested.

All of this was in preparation for starting some long overdue landscaping. We decided on an oversized dirt mound that can double as a place for the neighborhood kids to play king of the hill. The neighbors all think that it's super great and much better than boring old shrubs and flowers and whatnot. Also, it keeps the kids off the street. Until one of them goes rolling down the dirt mound, past the sidewalk, and then into the actual street. It's a work in progress, gang.

On a serious tip, bros, we've been dumping that dirt all around the foundation and planting live, green things in the front yard. Having live, green things around is important. It's really starting to look like a place where actual human people live. MJ is very happy about this development. Me too.

Finally, we've put off rerouting our plumbing to the second floor through a PEX manifold system until we could get someone with more plumbing-type know-how to lend us a helping hand. Time's up, helping-handy-type-peoples. We had to roll up our sleeves and take matters into our own pseudo-handy hands. More specifically, we had to take a sharp tool and cut the main supply lines for our hot and cold water (which both just so happened to be PEX due to previous plumbing repairs) in order to direct those lines upstairs while maintaining our current lines until we renovate our kitchen and first floor bathroom. 

Got it? It's cool if not.

My first reaction after cutting the main line was most definitely terror as i was certain that i had made a huge mistake and gotten in way over my head.

Then, we made all the necessary connections, turned the water main back on, and stood amazed at the fact that nothing seemed to be leaking... yet.

Hooray for us. Here's a wide shot of our current setup...

Fascinating, aye?

Maybe soon we'll have some bath renovation pics to reveal.

Yes. Let's definitely do this again sometime soon.

Thanks, you.

this is not my beautiful house

The day after having our gutter boards repaired and all new gutters and downspouts installed at our home, we checked in on ye olde google mapping page on the web known world wide. We proceeded to dangle and drop some poor faceless figure in front of our home granting us access to his visual perspective. It's rather perplexing when you consider the absence of any visible ocular organs.

But i digress...

This is how our blessed beast appeared the last time google and her legions of photographing minions paraded through our neighborhood.

And now, here is an updated street view for google maps to use...

Let it rain.

Soon, we shall scape the land! 

Soon we shall scalp the maple!

reconstruction of a porch

Before we bore witness to any of the hideous interior design choices made by previous owners of our home, we experienced the enclosed front porch. This presumed "smoking room" had it all: weird stencils, a corny limerick above the door, a former parlor entry repurposed as a plant stand. 

Did i mention stencils?

The above and below photos depict a confounded Mrs. Rockey and our optimistic friend who helped us purchase this blessed beast. 

Thanks, Phil... I think.

If you missed the deconstruction of this enclosed porch or simply need to refresh your memory, you can READ ALL ABOUT IT RIGHT HERE. After being ripped wide open last Summer, the porch has been undergoing a slow transformation into one of our favorite features of our new home.

After purchasing a new bench swing for their backyard, my folks allowed us to take this decrepit piece off their hands. With a bucket of clearance rack stain from menards, and some scraps of lumber for the arm rests, we gave this old relic from my childhood a second life. MJ even crafted a couple of darling pillow cases to repurpose some old INHABIT pillows donated years ago by brother Jere.

After having some aluminum siding repaired...

(oooh baby. what happened to that decorative shelving unit?)

we pulled up the carpet (yes carpet), and painted the entire exterior of the house. That you can read all about RIGHT HERE. We ran the wiring for an exterior lamp and VOILA!

Hot cha cha. Our lovely neighbors gifted to us the old milk jug which we painted and repurposed as an umbrella holder. We suspect that we could also comfortably fit at least ten ferrel cats in that thing. Time will tell. The front door was still a piece of garbage, but brace yourselves for the big reveal at the end of the post.

Last Fall, after scouring craigslist for months, MJ found a couple of metal porch chairs (a bouncer and a rocker) for sale in Knightstown. I made the nearly two-hour round trip to claim those babies and returned home in one piece before dinner. For some reason, i took that photo of the sun setting on my drive home. Don't do as i do, kids.

We sanded the crap out of those chairs, primed them, and there they sat on our front porch all winter long. As the ice thawed and Spring began creeping up on us, we used some leftover paint from our clawfoot tub renovation to finish the porch chairs...

That table used to belong to a starbucks coffee that i was fired from years ago. 

I win.

Now about that door.

We installed a new front door, gave it a paint job and some dandy hardware, and...

BOOM.

Again, this big front porch has easily become one of our favorite features of the home. Hopefully, before too long, we'll have some tasty reveals of the family bathroom that has been nearing completion for a year and a half now.

Yikes.

As you were.

april, fools

Been awhile!

Happy new year, btw.

Now, let's get down to brass TicTacs(R).

Did we throw in the towel and abandon this oversized project that we took on almost two years ago? Did we cut our losses and chalk it up as a lesson learned? Did we decide to return to a new construction home in which we would no longer need concern ourselves with an endless list of home repair projects?

NEVER.

Not when the opportunity to destroy something else lies around every corner. Take the multiple sets of concrete steps to nowhere for instance. These dudes have been begging to be put out of their misery since we acquired this blessed beast of a home. 

After a few humiliating attempts at breaking down these slabs of concrete with sledgehammers and masonite drill bits, we decided to rent a jackhammer. 

Grrrrrowl. Amiright?

 What resulted was a Saturday spent cutting up concrete and cleaning up the yard on the  sunset-facing side of the house.

A big thanks to Dave and Vaughn for helping us pile and haul debris to the street for distribution. There are still plenty of jagged chunks of concrete available. Feel free to help yourself to as many as you can pile into the trunk of your fancy automobile.

Act now. 

Supplies are fairly limited.

Coming soon... 

RECONSTRUCTION OF A PORCH!!!

Alright, you can go about your day now.

Thank you for your time.

songs from the fire bowl

Another year has come and gone and i've once again recorded a collection of songs to give away to family and friends. 

The songs in this collection have been with me for about as long as I can remember. I’ve been singing their lyrics at Camp Olivet since I was a fetus in sneakers. It was at Olivet that I first began strumming the guitar to their often mislabeled chords. These songs and the meaning that they hold have evolved with me over the years. Today, some of the lyrics make me roll my eyes with their horrible theology. Some of them send a shiver up and down my spine. Some of them are simply beautiful meditations on the character of God and his kingdom.

As a child, my cousins and I wrote verses for “Humble Yourself” to sing one Sunday morning. Those new verses found their way into the Camp Olivet songbook and have been synonymous with the tune ever since. At some point during my early adolescence it became expected of me to sing “Keep It On Going” every day at camp until my voice was no more. Now an adult with children of my own, I have returned to Camp Olivet to play my guitar and sing these songs. The sessions are loud, often goofy and sometimes surprisingly moving.

I’ve found new life in these songs. I have accepted that like anyone who has a history with Camp Olivet, for better or worse, these songs are a part of me.