A floor to remember

Before

      After

       AUBURN, Maine — The pounding of hammers and loud whining of heavy-duty saws have ceased. The dust has settled and there is only silence in our empty kitchen, but a freshly installed floor has brought our galley back to life.  My kitchen no longer looks like it was hit by an errant RPG.

Two contractors single-handedly ripped apart our 60-year-old dingy kitchen floor, which was coming apart at the seams.

The floor project was put on hold to pay for my son's $5,000.00 smile.

A lot elbow grease went into removing the stubborn and ancient floor, which fought contractors Bruce Pinette and Bob... every damn step of the way before they laid down the off-white linoleum.


This is a dirty job, but these guys are equipped and possess the know-how that would give the cast of contractors on "This Old House" a run for their money in the home-remodeling business.


For three days, Bruce and Bob labored as they pulled, ripped, sawed and stapled their way across our filthy floor. Bob resorted to a roofing shovel to blast apart the cemented composite layer of flooring, which could probably survive a nuclear missile strike. Chips flew across the room as Bob broke a sweat. I was ready for a beer after watching them hammer away at my floor.


This was no job for amateurs.  And when they finished prying apart the floor — and our lives — they began nailing down expensive plywood in just over a day. Our kitchen has more angles than a pentagon and the house is a bit crooked thanks to time and nature. 


Everything has shifted, but thanks to Bob's precision cutting and Bruce's guidance, they made each piece of underlay fit snuggly.  


When you survive a project like this, you feel grateful to have your kitchen back without maneuvering around nail guns, saws, brooms and plywood. I missed my stove the most and am tired of having the refrigerator in my living room, although a cold beer is just feet away from me.  


This inconvenience was a small price to pay for a brand-new kitchen floor.  Before I decided to hire these two adept contractors, I entertained the notion of tackling this project myself.


Foolish me!


When I thought about going it alone, and being the journalist that I am, I began researching the project at Web sites like "This Old House." They all made it look simple and explained it could be done in hours.  That maybe true if you are Bob Villa surrounded by crew of expert handymen who know the difference between a hammer and a screwdriver. 


What I learned was that no project is simple and it would take weeks for newbie like me to complete such an undertaking — or just go berserk and throw up my hands.  I was no match for this task and that is why I turned to the experts.  


Mr. Pelletier and Bob, for the reasonable price tag of $2,200 busted their butts to do a great job and gave a tired-old kitchen a new lease on life.  


You could say we are floored by their master craftsmanship.

Patriot games

    AUBURN, Maine — Sports bars will be packed with customers who will be three sheets to the wind by halftime. Pizza joints and liquor stores will experience their own version of Black Friday. 

   And the good citizens of America will open their homes to anybody with a six-pack of beer and a bucket of chicken wings, as we all gather to watch the New England Patriots and the New York Giants beat each other up in the Super Bowl on Sunday night.

   
   It is the Coliseum in the heart of Rome all over again — without the spears, axes and swords. There is no battle to the death in this matchup. These Spartans are spared and will head to the bank with cold, hard cash in their pockets. And the Game is in Indianapolis, but it still feels like the Coliseum.

   
   But I want no part of watching a game at a tavern. I don't want to listen to annoying, tipsy patrons give me their take on the game. Every bar-stool critic will offer his prediction with words slurred by booze. Back off you boobs. Tell it to someone who gives a damn.

  

    I haven't invited a soul to my house to watch the Big Game on a big TV. I have a small TV. I don't want friends or relatives distracting me when it is a critical fourth-and-2 situation on the 30-yard line for the Patriots. I don't want to feel pressured to make my home spotless or cook for 30 people who might leave my house in a stupor and get behind the wheel of a car.

   
   Keep it!

   
   I will be home watching the game with my son, Anthony, and wife, Terri, who won't holler at the television. They won't disown the Patriots when Tom Brady throws a rare interception in the first quarter.

   
    I won't be hammering away on Facebook during the game. I don't have an account. I don't need updates via email about a Game I am also viewing. My laptop will be off.

   
    Before I tied the knot, I watched games at local establishments. What I found just as amusing are intoxicated fans stumbling from one bar stool to another to get in some one's face about the Game. The noise level was insane and patrons were more focused on their chicken wings than the Game.

   
   Whenever I have been invited to enjoy the Big Game at some one's home, I couldn't concentrate with people carrying on about the weather or politics. 

   Too much background noise.

   
   So I will be home and I won't be alone. I will cook a good meal. I might have a libation as the Pats do their best to knock down the formidable Giants.

   
    I will not install huge signs on my lawn, buy a Patriots cap or shirt, or attach a bumper sticker with a Patriots logo on my vehicle. I don't need to proclaim my allegiance to New England by becoming a spectacle in my neighborhood. 

   There will be no body painting in my home. I am not the wacko auto mechanic David Puddy who scared a priest to death with his New Jersey Devils face painting in a heart-warming "Seinfeld" episode.

   I am a quiet Patriot who walks softly and carries a 12-ounce beer in his hand.
   

   I want quiet.

  
   But if you do show up at my home with beer and pizza in your outstretched arms Sunday evening, that just might get you in the door.