Silly Putty

With the sashes back in place and fresh WoodEpox at last in hand, it was time to get back to the sill work.

As I mentioned a few posts back, the reason why I needed fresh WoodEpox was that the tub of Part B of my prior supply had fallen and gotten cracked, exposing that material to the air. Hoping it had not been that way for long, I went ahead and used it. Apparently it had indeed been that way for a long time, because I found the mixed putty to be very stiff and hard to tool, creating quite a mess.

When I removed the forms. I discovered that although I had done my best to work the putty into the forms, it had actually gone in only a very small distance, falling far short of filling the gaps.

This may not look like a particularly bad result, but I had failed to establish enough of an obvious shape for me to be able to proceed on eyeball judgment alone. I needed more guidance than this blob of a half-done sill was giving me. 

So the first thing I did, once I turned my attention back to the sill, was to put the forms back on and slowly sand down the high spots, using the forms as a guide, while being very careful not to sand the forms themselves. Once I got as close to them as I could, I took the forms back off and proceeded from there.

Still needing more guidance, I made a cardboard template of the north sill. First, I used my trusty profile duplicator tool, making sure I took a nice straight reading perpendicular to the front surface.

Then, I transferred this profile to a good stout piece of cardboard and carefully cut along the line with an X-Acto knife.

Before proceeding, I checked the accuracy of my template by comparing it with the original. It didn't have to be absolutely accurate, but I was very pleased with how accurate it was.

I was then able to use this template to evaluate just where to sand, and where to add more putty. Eventually, I realized that one of the problems that was throwing me off was that the sill had a crack all the way through to the back that was not immediately evident because it occurred at the inside angle right where the lower sill met the upper sill, so there was no visible irregularity along the crack itself.

It was quite a long crack, reaching from the left side all the way to the left edge of the middle casing board. Apparently, the roofers had jammed shingles behind the split part, causing it to flare gradually forward so that it was a half-inch further out at the left end than it was in the middle.

There wasn't any point in trying to correct for this, mainly because it was a gradual-enough deviation that it was undetectable unless one was actually standing out on the veranda roof looking down at it. So, I drove some screws down at the proper place to stabilize the sill and prevent further movement, then puttied up the screw holes and proceeded as if everything was going really well. The fact is, it was going plenty well enough.

Then I noticed that the upper sill under the left window opening was quite worn down, so that it was a quarter-inch low in the middle. This was strange, because the other three upper sills had not had more than superficial wear on them, having been relatively protected behind screen frames for most of their existence. I immediately thought to myself, why did this happen? What is the house trying to tell me about its past?

Then I realized that what it was telling me is that I'm an idiot. I had gone in and out of that very window hundreds of times while working on the north dormer, usually quite clumsily. I had caused that wear my own dang self!

Properly humbled, I cut a guide strip, coated it with mold release compound, and built the upper sill back up in that window.

With everything all nicely filled in and sanded, I took another reading along the entire length of the sill with my template, and realized that, once I corrected for the flare on the left side, the front of the sill curved back towards the house at each end. You see, back when I had first attached the forms to the sill, before I'd put on any putty, I had forgotten to correct for the increased wear that naturally occurs along the front of a sill at each end. I really should remember to review my old posts when I start to do something I haven't done for a while.

And so, more guide strips, and more putty.

Then, remove the forms, fill in the screw holes, sand a little more, and voilá! A nicely-restored sill, at last. Note that the narrow strips of sill between the casing boards are far less worn than the rest of the lower sill, as evidenced by how much of the actual wood is still showing there. This is more evidence that these windows had screens for most of the house's existence. 

Then, one last step: a coat of primer to protect the epoxy putty from that nasty old sun and its fatal ultraviolet rays. I learned that lesson with the north sill, when I had to do some quick re-patching at painting time.

And now, time to put up the scaffold and get on with the rest of the job.

* * *

One of my biggest fans.

Film at Eleven

My friend Nik, in a reference to the film Lawrence of Arabia, likes to call Pasadena "The Sun's Anvil." This is an apt description. I've lived in hotter areas around the Southland, but I've never lived in a place where the sun is more merciless. I've discussed at length the damage the sun has done to the south-facing elements of the Farm House exterior, but in the afternoon it's pretty hard on the west face as well. The sun coming through the front dormer windows will fade anything fadeable within its reach in record time.

For this reason, I have planned all along to install clear UV-blocking film to the front dormer windows when I finished them. I forgot this step when I did the north dormer sashes, but I remembered in time to have some on hand for the south sashes. Thus, after I varnished them, I turned my attention to the task of applying the film to the glass.

I approached this task with considerable trepidation, because I've heard reports for years that it is quite a difficult task, and I've seen my share of badly-done installations. Still, I had the film, and I had everything necessary to install it, so I figured I'd give it the old college try.

I unwrapped the package of film and found this:

(Please forgive those green horizontal bands; I forgot to turn off the overhead fluorescents.)

Great. Both the film and the backing were clear. How was I supposed to know which was which? More importantly, how was I supposed to separate one from the other?

Fortunately, the instructions provided the answers to these questions, in the form of a neat trick that's sure to come in handy in the future: simply apply a piece of tape on each side of the film-backing sandwich near a corner, leaving an inch or so trailing off the edge as a handle. Then, use the tape pieces as handles to pull the film and backing apart. The film is the side that has adhesive on the back of it, in case that isn't already apparent.

Before doing this, you have to cut the film to size. The instructions say to add an inch to both dimensions to provide a trim allowance. I did this for the first sash only, just to make sure I had the process down correctly before I did any more cutting.

The next step is to get the glass surface scrupulously clean, so that nothing comes between the film and glass to cause a visible bump or air bubble. After a thorough cleaning with Windex and Invisible Glass, I scraped the entire surface of the glass top-to-bottom and then side-to-side, using as lubrication a water-based surfactant spray that came with the installation kit.

I was surprised to discover how much junk came off of glass that had appeared perfectly clean. As per instructions, once I was done scraping I marshaled the junk and the remaining surfactant into one corner using the supplied squeegee, then removed it all from the glass using a lint-free cloth.

Now, I was ready to apply the film. The basic idea is to wet the glass uniformly with a thin layer of the surfactant in order to keep the adhesive from adhering to the glass while you position the film. Then, remove the backing from the cut piece of film, being extremely careful not to allow the exposed back of the film fold over on itself and get stuck together. 

Then, you place the film adhesive side down on the glass, slide it into position, then use the squeegee to remove the air bubbles and excess surfactant from under the film, starting in the middle and moving towards the edges, sopping up the excess surfactant periodically from the outside of the film.

The idea here is that once this step is done up to the edges, then you trim the excess film along the edges using the supplied trimmer. This trimmer leaves a 1/16" gap between the film and the edge to provide a route for the remaining air and surfactant to exit. Then, you finish the squeegeeing right up to the edges, then allow the film to sit undisturbed until the whole shebang dries.

Everything was going so incredibly well for me as I followed these instructions that I was positively ecstatic, until I got to the trimming part. I ran the trimmer down one edge, and it trimmed effortlessly right up until I got to the corner. It was at this point that I realized that I still had the overlap to cut through, and nothing to cut it against except for my freshly-varnished wood. Oops. The only thing I could do was pull the trimmed edge back up carefully, finish the cut with a pair of scissors, then squeegee it back down. This did not go extremely well, but it went well enough. Here's what I had at this point:

The side on the right of the picture is the one already trimmed.

Okay, I thought. Now I just have to come at this corner down the other side with the trimmer and it will be done. The thing is, I did, but it wasn't. The last eighth of an inch would not get cut, no matter what I did with that stupid trimmer. The film just refused to yield. I finally tossed the trimmer aside and used a utility knife blade, but instead of the film's cutting, it just tore. I probably should have used an X-Acto knife, but that simply did not occur to me in the heat of battle. I did a better job with the remaining corners, and miraculously, the finished sash turned out looking pretty good—if you didn't look too closely at the corners.

Still, it was obvious after that experience that these instructions were not written with this situation in mind. They would have worked with a car window or a modern aluminum-framed sash, but not with a wood sash, nor in fact with any situation where the glass is so deeply recessed on all sides.

Thus, for the remaining sashes I cut the film to as close as possible to the exact size before application. I cut it a bit too small in two of the three sashes, but I did cut all the pieces straight and true, so because the film is clear, you have to know what you're looking for to see the gap. In any event, with the sills back in place the film is as a practical matter invisible.

So, I would say that this job is not really terribly difficult after all, as long as you can take the sills out and put them flat to work on them. Installing them in place would not only be much more difficult, it would also be quite messy. Oh, and one other thing: That surfactant spray is nothing but water with a little detergent in it to lower its surface tension; one could easily make it with a few drops of liquid dish detergent (such as Joy or Dawn) in a quart of distilled water (you don't want any dissolved solids in it) put in a spray bottle. Many people also say that a credit card works just as well as that squeegee, but I think the squeegee provided in the installation kit makes for a faster job, simply because it is bigger and a bit more flexible.

I'll go back and install the film on the north dormer windows when workflow allows, but I'll have Wifey measure and cut the film. Because of her considerable skill at sewing, she can cut any pattern perfectly.

* * *

My faithful assistant, always there to lend a paw.

Doubleheader: Cleaning Finished Wood and Using The New Waterborne Varnishes

Wow, I just found out that the Wayback Machine has been archiving this blog periodically for three years. That's neato! It's good to know that we're being recorded in what is virtually the Official Record of the Intertubes for posterity.

* * *

With the sill work held up while I waited for the fresh WoodEpox to arrive from Abatron, I decided to go on to the refinishing of the sashes, since it was the only other thing I could do easily without the scaffold.

These sashes are the originals, and back when I did the functional rehabilitation I applied an oil-based pigmented stain to the interiors (this was before I had discovered the many virtues of water-based aniline dye stains). This kind of stain provides some protection from the elements even without a more resilient finish over it, and so I didn't have to worry about bleaching out water stains, as I did with the north dormer sashes. In fact, with the exception of some sun-fading and a certain amount of dirt and grime from the environment, the stained interiors looked as good as the day I stained them. A good cleaning and another coat of stain would restore them to varnish-ready condition.

To clean the sash interiors, I used the old Criblecoblis family recipe for wood cleaner: equal parts gum turpentine, boiled linseed oil and white vinegar. I've found that 1/4 cup of each, 3/4 cup total, is a good amount to work with; the mixture works best when it's fresh, and in any event it curdles after a while.

While I find this mixture to have quite a pleasant smell, redolent of the junk shops and antique stores along Honolulu Avenue that I haunted as a lad, it is also rather hard on the sinuses because of the vinegar, so I recommend opening the window when using this stuff.

Here's how to use it: apply to the surface to be cleaned with a paintbrush (I use an inexpensive "chip" brush), using enough to saturate the surface, and agitating the brush as necessary to make sure the cleaner gets in everywhere. Let the cleaner work for a few minutes, then remove it with a terrycloth towel (I use those inexpensive yellow microfiber towels sold at Costco), rubbing gently as necessary to help remove loosened dirt. Repeat as necessary until the surface is clean, then buff with a clean towel to leave an even, soft sheen.

Once the residual turpentine has evaporated from the towels, a hot-water laundering will leave them clean (if perhaps stained from the dirt) and ready to use again. Note that I do not recommend the use of paper towels for this work; the results are decidedly unsatisfactory.

I also don't recommend using this cleaner on unfinished wood; the wood will absorb the oil, changing its color and possibly inhibiting subsequent staining and finishing. To clean unfinished wood, I recommend naphtha or mineral spirits.

This cleaner is effective, but very gentle on finishes. Many cleaners make this claim, but some of them do so fraudulently. Don't ask me how I know. Much of our woodwork here bears the original finish, shellac over a dark pigmented stain. I used this cleaner on all the exposed woodwork in our bedroom as a trial back in 2006. You have to figure that 122-year-old shellac (at that time) would have to be a bit fragile, but the cleaner did not disturb it at all. It removed all the dirt, and left all the shellac.

Some time after I cleaned the exposed wood in the bedroom, I moved the dresser over and put another cabinet in next to it. This has given me a great opportunity to show you what this cleaner does. When I move that cabinet away from the wall, you can see both cleaned and uncleaned wood. After nothing but a dusting, here's a picture of that area:

You can still see clearly the line of demarcation. This not only shows you what this cleaner does, but it shows you that its effects have lasted here for nearly eight years. The sheen has faded, but the wood is still clean, and it still resists soiling.

The cleaned wood still obviously needs work to look good—and to that end, I have some tricks up my sleeve that I can't wait to show you—but the first step in any restoration is always cleaning, and the wood on the left is clean. It will have the same effect on a piece of furniture, with no wax buildup, no static attraction, and no having to do it every time you clean. A table cleaned with this mixture will only need dusting to stay looking clean and polished a long time, until the cat throws up on it or something. Don't ask me how I know.

This cleaner works on painted wood just as well, as long as the paint isn't flat or matte. I even used it on all the old rusty iron hardware, the hinges and the window locks. I brushed it on liberally, and wiped it off conservatively. It removed all the dirt and rust while lubricating the moving parts and leaving the patina. I'm telling you, this stuff is awesome. Just don't try it as a salad dressing. Don't ask me how I know.

One thing I need to add about this cleaner: volatile organic compounds (VOCs) have become increasingly criminalized here in southern California, and as a result most solvents have been reformulated so as to make them as ineffective as possible, so you have to use more of them, thus more VOCs, thus providing the pretext for even more onerous regulations. This includes turpentine. Probably, it will sooner or later include white vinegar as well.

At the same time, boiled linseed oil is no longer boiled; chemicals are added to raw linseed oil to achieve the same effect.

These changes have adversely affected my cleaner. It still works, but it's oilier than it used to be, it refuses to stay mixed for more than a minute, and it goes bad within days instead of weeks. I noticed these problems as I worked, but I didn't figure out the cause until afterwards.

I suspect a partial cure for these problems would involve decreasing the amount of "boiled" linseed oil relative to the other ingredients, say a 4:4:3 ratio, with the oil as the 3. I will experiment and report back, but for now if you use this cleaner, mix it in this new ratio, for example: 1/4 cup each of turpentine and white vinegar with 3 tablespoons boiled linseed oil. Season to taste, then add to salad and toss.

* * *

Despite the unexpected oiliness, the cleaner worked as well as ever on the sash interiors, and after applying another coat of the same stain and waiting several days to ensure that it was thoroughly dry, they were ready to be varnished. However, the fact that the stain was oil-based meant that I could not use the same oil-based varnish that I used on the north dormer sashes. This is because the solvents in the varnish will re-liquefy the stain, causing it to mix unevenly with the varnish, resulting in a mottled, unsightly appearance in the finished wood.

For this reason, I found it necessary to use one of the new waterborne varnishes on these sashes. In the past, a finisher would have used shellac (as did the original Farm House finisher) or lacquer. These, however, are decidedly inferior finishes for a sash, because of its proximity to the elements and the frequency with which a sash is handled and moved in its frame. In this situation, a waterborne varnish is just the thing to use.

The fact that these coatings are called waterborne varnishes, rather than water-based, reflects their utilization of a new, fundamentally different technology. Traditional coatings are held in suspension in a solvent carrier which evaporates, exposing the coating to oxygen which brings about a chemical change, or curing. I don't fully understand how these new coatings work, but as far as I do understand the matter, these are fully cured coatings that are subsequently pulverized and suspended, or borne, in a water-based carrier.

Somehow, when these coatings are applied and the water evaporates, the pulverized varnish cross-links, or re-amalgamates, into a resilient coating that looks and functions like a traditional oil-based resin varnish. It baffles science!  Well, actually, science is quite comfortable with it; it only baffles me.

Once I decided to use a waterborne varnish, I looked at all the available options, and selected General Finishes Enduro-Var Gloss, because by all accounts it is the most durable, water-resistant waterborne finish available, and as a plus, it adds an amber cast in emulation of oil-based varnishes.

While I am far from being a professional finisher, I have more than enough experience with varnishes that I am quite confident in my knowledge and abilities. Varnish is just about the most difficult non-specialty coating to apply well, but I've become pretty darn good at brushing out a nice, even coating with no brush marks. But nothing in my experience prepared me for what I saw when I opened up that can:

It looks vaguely disgusting, like that pink slime they add to ground beef. I was even more baffled by the stuff than ever: this is gloss varnish? Well, as I said above, this waterborne varnish is completely different from traditional coatings, so I really shouldn't have been at all surprised to find that it looks completely different.

Or, for that matter, that its application is also different. As a matter of fact, its application is incredibly easy. All you do is spread it out in as thick a coat as possible without runoff, and once you are done with a section, do not go back over it; as the instructions say, if you miss a spot you can get it next time without worry. Because the varnish is so thin, it self-levels magnificently, and because it dries so quickly, dust has almost no time to settle in it.

The result is an astoundingly flawless finish with very little effort and not a whole lot of time. While four coats of traditional varnish takes four days, four coats of this waterborne varnish takes less than a day and a half at a comfortable work pace, and in one long day if you're really in a hurry.

Not that I don't still have some skepticism regarding this new-fangled waterborne stuff. For one thing, while the lack of body in the coating out of the can makes its application so easy that anyone can get professional results, it also gives this varnish very little in the way of build characteristics. Put another way, while there are no irregularities to be seen in the finish itself, every tiny irregularity in the underlying wood is telegraphed right through. Four coats of the traditional oil-based varnish I use, when well applied, gives a surface that is much flatter, with a highly-desirable appearance of depth. A few more coats greatly enhance these properties.

Thus, while this varnish may have the expected resistance to moisture and solvents, and a nice amber cast to boot, still it looks more like lacquer than traditional varnish. This wouldn't be an issue in most situations, but in an old house, it is a bit of a disadvantage.

For another thing, I remain unconvinced that this waterborne varnish will stay looking this good for as long as a traditional oil-based varnish, especially the medium-oil phenolic-resin varnish I use. I suspect that it will not be as UV-resistant. More importantly, it definitely does not have nearly the same resistance to physical damage.

Don't ask me how I know.

* * *

"Why do they call that hunky guy 'Lassie'?"

Goofus And Gallant

As I mentioned last time, the first task I planned to do in the south front dormer work was to restore the sill. This is because I learned with the north dormer that it's much harder to work on the sill with the scaffold in the way.

I anticipated that the sill work would go quickly, because I already had ready-made forms from the north dormer work. Unfortunately, my WoodEpox had gone stale, because unbeknownst to me the Wily Forest Cat some time ago knocked the tub for Part B off the shelf; it cracked when it hit the floor, exposing Part B to air for goodness knows how long. I went ahead and used it anyway, and the putty was so stiff and unworkable that I ended up with a big mess.

Desperate for some fresh WoodEpox, I bought some at our neighborhood hardware store here in Pasadena, up here north of Orange Grove, which is world-famous for its large stock of new old-house hardware. When I got home and opened it up, the Part A, usually light and fluffy, was hard as a rock, and thus unusable.

I knew right away what had happened: this WoodEpox had obviously been exposed to freezing temperatures, which had fatally crystallized the Part A. I've mentioned many times in these pages that WoodEpox is vulnerable to degradation at temperatures below 60 degrees. This could have happened in transit, or it could have happened sitting right in the local Pasadena hardware store, because we had a few nights of freezing temperatures in December.

So I took the WoodEpox back to the hardware store for a refund. I tried to explain what the problem was to the guy at the front counter, but he cut me off with a wave of his hand. "I've never heard of any problems with this stuff. I've seen demonstrations!"

"I've used it a great deal for over a decade, and I can tell you—"

He cut me off again. "I can't give you a refund because you opened the box."

I pointed to the return policy posted directly over his head. "Nothing about that there." I waved my receipt, which also bore the return policy. "Nothing about that here, either."

"If it were unopened we can resell it. We can't resell it like that, opened."

I didn't see any point in mentioning to him that one of the boxes of WoodEpox on the shelf had been quite conspicuously opened and resealed, or that he shouldn't want to resell damaged merchandise, or that if he just opened the tub of Part A he'd see for himself that it was damaged. Neither did I see any point in asking to see a supervisor; I'd been in this longtime Pasadena institution dozens of times, and knew that to do so was only to invite further abuse.

I was all too familiar with the abusive nature of their front-of-the-store staff (those behind the hardware counter in back are typically pleasant, helpful and highly competent). These people sit like magpies behind their cash registers and hurl snide comments at customers and their purchases. And heaven help you should you actually need assistance: "Ooh, you want a Purdy paintbrush? You need to go somewhere else. We don't carry that kind of fancy paintin' stuff here!"

By this point, my temper was rising to an unsafe level, so I just took my ruined WoodEpox and beat a hasty, silent retreat. Not that I had accepted the situation; two quarts of WoodEpox costs over $70 with tax, and I wasn't about to gently into that hot day with that loss. It's just that I had a Plan B for my Part A that was more-or-less foolproof.

I went right back home and ordered some fresh WoodEpox direct from Abatron, which is my usual practice. Then, I sent Abatron's customer service department a calm e-mail relating just the essential facts of the situation. I'd had enough experience with them to know that they'd see to my getting a refund, one way or another.

They went to bat for me immediately and assertively. It took several weeks of their prodding the store, but they got me that refund. Abatron stands by its products and its customers.

* * *

He who controls the remote, controls the future.

South Dormer Overview

Before I get underway, please allow me to apologize for the long hiatus in the Lucian Wilson biography. There are some late leads I want to chase down before I continue, and I don't have much time for that right now.

* * *

Wear patterns are different for each little microclimate around the house. As we have seen, the microclimate around the north dormer is surprisingly harsh. There is a breeze from the south-southwest that blows relentlessly across the front of the house up there, and it whips around the north corner of the north dormer with a surprising turbulence on even the calmest days. As I showed you, this wind over the course of the many decades wore a visible bevel into the lower left corner of the leftmost casing board. This wind drives the rain into every nook and cranny of that dormer, which is why it was in such poor condition.

In relative terms, the south dormer is in pretty good shape. Its sashes survived, albeit barely, and there is no significant evidence of water damage. Little of its exterior skin needed replacement. On the other hand, it did get the same sort of beating from the sun that the south elevation did. The siding on the south side of the dormer has had all of the softwood eroded away at least half an inch down, the front casing boards are nearly as thrashed as were those on the north, and there are instances of physical impact damage that must have come from long-gone tree branches, the most dramatic of which was a huge crack in the window frame on the south side that I repaired at the very start of the work a decade ago.

Here is a short (three-minute) video showing the condition of the dormer at the start of work; it will show you what needs to be done much more efficiently than I can with just text and pictures.

As you can see in the video, this dormer's in considerably better shape than the north dormer was; there doesn't appear to be much remedial carpentry necessary, at least so far.

On the other hand, I do have some extensive plastic surgery ahead of me, especially on the gingerbread running along the top of the window casing. By "plastic", of course, I mean lots of epoxy, but I also plan to use Bondo to resurface the vertical casing boards (which I will do without removing them). I used Bondo a great deal in my restoration work on the Doll House (our Culver City home), and it has held perfectly well for fifteen years now. It's much harder to shape than WoodEpox, but it's faster, considerably less expensive, and perfectly suited to large, flat expanses like the casing boards.

All aboard the VOC-Particulates Express! Please keep all hands and arms inside the blog at all times.

* * *

"Keep it down up there, willya? Girls just wanna catch Zs."