Oil Tank Removal

 

 When we were looking at purchasing this house, the realtor made a big deal about the fact that although the house was on oil heat, there was natural gas at the road. We  called the gas company as soon as we closed on the house, to begin the conversion to gas. It all happened so quickly.

The gas company, National Grid, came out on a sunny day and put on quite a performance for the children with their drills and excavators. They had to drill under the road and our yard. It was all very exciting. They even let the children sit in the construction equipment and survey all the work. They said they would come back and place the meter and give the approval for use once the heating company had done their work on the inside and run a gasline to the exterior of the house.

The previous owners, the Briggs, had already received a quote from Holbrook Heating for a top-of-the-line, efficient furnace with Wi-Fi blah blah blah. I called Holbrook to ask about the quote and to see what else they offered. I barely got through my first sentence when the receptionist said if they had written the quote in the past 3 months then they would still honor the price. I was shocked because the price seemed so very low for everything they had committed to doing on the paperwork the Briggs had left with us. I didn't argue with her, but immediately set up a time to have the job done.

"The job" consisted of the removal and disposal of the old oil furnace, the installation of the new natural gas furnace and a Wi-Fi controlled thermostat, coordination with the gas company to drill and place the line from the road to the house, setting up a meter, and running an extra gas line for my dryer. It was a big job.

The day arrived and the crew from Holbrook was stunned at the size of our home and was unsure of how this particular furnace they brought to install would heat the entire house. Apparently, the quote the Briggs received was given as a favor by the owner of the company...to help sell the house and give any potential buyers the opportunity to see that it was indeed possible to convert to natural gas.

 THEY NEVER ACTUALLY CAME TO THE HOUSE TO SEE WHAT KIND OF WORK NEEDED TO BE DONE.

The owner of the company was called and he arrived within the hour, as the workers removed the old furnace and tried to figure out how the small unit they brought would be installed. The owner of Holbrook was embarrassed and frustrated that things had turned out this way, but had brought with him a much larger and more efficient furnace to replace the other that was promised in the estimate. He was too kind and said that because the quote was his mistake, he would give us the upgrade for free. The only issue was that this particular furnace needed a great deal of air flow and they needed to place new return venting inside and venting going outside the house through a basement window. We quickly agreed, as it was November and they had already removed the oil furnace, our only source of heat for the entire house. They worked all day. The children and I stayed huddled in the school room with blankets and a small electric space heater that Matt had purchased for the occasion. By 8pm, the gas company had still not come to place and approve the meter...no heat in the house for us.

Holbrook had emergency electrical heaters sent to the house with the promise that they would return as early as possible in the morning to finish the job with National Grid. It was a cold, cold night. We slept in the school room in a pile of blankets. It took most of the next day for Holbrook and National Grid to coordinate their efforts. The approval was given. The meter was placed. The furnace was turned on. The bill was paid. Holbrook also drained the underground oil tank and credited us for the fuel they extracted. They had capped off the oil pipe in the basement and cautioned us to get the oil tank "taken care of" as soon as the snow melted.

We spent the winter in comfort. The house smelled less and less of oil every day, with heating bills that rivaled the bills we had back in Rochester for a house that was 1/3 this size. I was thrilled. Also, my dryer was up and running and I no longer had to freeze dry clothes on the line outside or up in the attic. Life was good.

The snow started melting and Matt and I began our discussions about what to do with the underground tank. We had no knowledge of where it was exactly or what it would take to remove it or even what size it was. We had some neighbors who had "abandoned" their oil tanks by filling them with stones and sand. They suggested we do the same, but Matt and I knew it would be impossible to ever sell this house again with an abandoned oil tank on the property. Real estate is a big deal and we had been bit too hard on our last home. We went online and did some Googling (bad decision). Horror stories about people who removed oil tanks and had to pay upwards of $15,000 to the DEC for spilled oil, contaminated ground, and remediation services. We simply did not have this type of money lying around. Especially because we need a newer, larger car for our growing family...and a fireplace for this home that loses power when the wind blows.

So, we did what we usually do when we are faced with a difficult decision: we prayed. I prayed that the oil tank would disappear all by itself. Matt prayed that it wouldn't collapse until he had come to a rational, God-inspired decision about what to do with the tank.

We make a good team.

We decided, after many months, that the job was just too big for us. There were too many unknowns. We were terrified of being sued by the DEC for a spill that may or may not be there. But the knowledge that any potential future owner could ask us to have the tank removed before sale anyway...well...the deal was sealed. We would hire a company to remove the tank and pray that when they tested the soil, it would come back clean.

Matt called the DEC and made a spread sheet on Excel (this is one of his most endearing qualities) of all the companies that were suggested for tank removal. He made dozens of phone calls and sent many e-mails. I sat here and prayed that the oil tank would still disappear by itself. As Matt obtained more information from each company and they made their bids and expressed their concerns, the spreadsheet filled up. I was still praying about the disappearing oil tank.

We settled on a company, OpTech, that was personable and answered every single phone call and question we had. Their bid was the best, and Matt said that the tearful and fearful phone calls I made to poor Dick should have equaled an hour's worth of counseling....which we don't believe will be on the final bill.

This past Tueday, OpTech arrived at 8:10am. Nathan had woken up an hour earlier, throwing up.

I was a wreck with no shower and nerves enough to cause hair loss.

Dick and his crew were professional, clean-cut and kind. They smiled for the children and didn't balk at the 398 pictures we took of them in their machines and with their equipment.

 Nathan was so sad that he was missing out on the action that I moved his chair in front of the window so he could see the excavator from his sick bed.

 Thomas, attempting to do schoolwork while talking about how he wants to be an excavator when he gets bigger. This is a huge change, since he originally wanted to be a tank engine.

 As it turns out, the tank was a 500 gallon "home-job" that laid 7 feet down, parallel to the foundation near the bay window, under a flower garden. The oil line from the tank to the basement was on the bottom of the tank, ran through the foundation and up through the poured concrete in our basement. It was a much larger job than we had initially anticipated. Dick and his crew didn't even break a sweat. They came to the door and cautioned that home-jobs tended to be a little bit more shoddy and that a leak was more of a possibility with this new information.

 Enjoying her third breakfast and a show.

 Thar she blows!

 They suctioned out the sludge in the bottom of the tank by hand. One of the workers actually climbed inside the tank to scrub it clean.

 As fascinating as the removal of the tank was, our little crew inside put on enough of a show to attract their own paparazzi.

Well, the oil tank didn't disappear of it's own accord. 

Out. No leaks, no breaks. A miracle.

(I LOVE LOVE LOVE our cobblestone foundation.) 

They filled the garden back in, fixed up the driveway, loaded up the tank and pulled away around 4pm.

 Like nothing ever happened.

Matt and I are still in shock. Relief. Shock. Relief.

So filled with gratitude to God for lining it all up for us.

"Conversion" complete.

 

Life at Belleholm

So, our home is situated on what used to be a 500 acre dairy farm. Harold Hubbs, the second owner of this fine establishment, raised cows and christened the estate "Belleholm". Some neighbors have told us stories about Harry and his family that are sweet and funny...and some that are very, very sad. There has always been a great deal of activity here: large families, lots of visitors and tons of hard work. Things have not changed since the we have become the fifth owners of Belleholm in 160 years. Matt says, in jest, that we have just switched from raising cattle to children.

 And we are doing a heckuva job...

 Mommy is lazy and wannabe crunchy but not at all successful. So, disposable diapers it is. In bulk boxes. Delivered to my front door with free shipping. God Bless all the Targets.

It took Tom and Nate an embarrassingly short amount of time to unwrap and shred the newly delivered boxes to pieces and scatter the remains about their room.

 Not the first time this has happened.

 Matt is enjoying all the wildlife around Belleholm. Me? Not so much. I hate snakes. With a passion. He tells me it is okay because the snakes are eating the mice that I hate also. I believe his exact words were, "What would you rather have: snakes or mice?" The fact that these are my only choices makes my head spin.

 Sarah does the sweetest things when I put Esther down for her daily naps.

 Sixlet at 21 weeks. Gosh I miss being able to breathe.

 Esther at her favorite perch in the house. Loud and center of the action.

 Steve stayed with us every weekend during his spring semester of college. He also came back lived with us for a short time after graduating...AND BEFORE HE GOT MARRIED!!! Time with him was precious and I cannot think about it without getting a little weepy. He helped Matt fix all the things and break all the things and clean all the things...and was rarely to be found without a baby on his hip. Except when he climbed on the roof.

No Babies Allowed.

 Sixlet at 24 weeks. I do not think this shirt reaches all the way around the baby these days...

 Tom made himself nametags and insisted for an entire day that the whole family call him "Tom Thomas".

Hilarious.

Thomas is still my practical jokester and has become our early riser. Most days he is up before 6am, sending Matt off to work with a laugh. He is sensitive and brilliant and always ready to destroy anything. He and Joseph frequently bond outside with their favorites of Matt's tools:

"The mini sludge" (sledgehammer)

"The whammer bammer" (claw hammer)

"The wubbo mawett" (rubber mallet)

 

He literally pounds sand in our back yard. He has hundreds of bug bites, bruises, scrapes and cuts. When I bathe him, the bath water turns into mud.

  Our doctor thinks Thomas is a healthy little farm boy and spends most of our visits trying to convince me of this.

 

 My Buzz. Joseph hardly ever allows me to take his picture and avoids the camera at all costs. Pictures like this are very special to me. Joseph and Tom are best buds. They spend their days trying to drive me batty with the projects they try to help their father with. Joseph is doing well in school and has an insane amount of pride in his work. He is overly disappointed by his inability to understand absolutely everything. He has his father's work ethic and his mama's drama. Poor thing. 

 

 

 Nathan is growing so fast. He is slowly exiting the three-year-old whining/temper tantrum/needy phase and entering a sweet little man phase. He loves bugs, dinosaurs and writing books for me. He and  Esther have been best buds for a while, mainly because he allows her to boss him around. And he gets under her skin something fierce. No one can make the Hot Mess scream like our Koala. 

Regressing, as we get out baby supplies for sixlet. 

Nathan got himself dressed for church. "I had none help!"

Jergens, courtesy of Esther. I've been asked why she did not stop after the first bite. No clue, my friends. No clue. 

The fab five feeling sixlet kick and punch...most likely because they decorated his home with stickers. 

My parents came in town for Steve's graduation from Wanakena. It was a really hectic time, but the children had a lot of laughs.

Ever since Steve convinced Matt that he needed a chainsaw...

...and a maul

This spring was so beautiful here at Belleholm. We moved here in the fall and so the new seasons bring new joys. We have loved watching what new plants and flowers pop up every single day. The previous owners had great pride in their gardening and had obvious green thumbs. What a huge gift to me!

Fixing the wire for the old doorbell. No really, it's wire. Not electrical. See the bell? Its as loud as a firehouse up in here when someone rings the bell.

Some people hear what you say and react. Other people act because they hear what you aren't saying.

Thank you, Lisa.

A day filled with tears. Saying goodbye to our Steve as he drove cross country to his new home.

Let's talk heat, y'all. I am a big wimp. I grew up in a home where my mother hung sheets and blankets and towels over the windows in the summer and wouldn't turn on the stove or oven from May-September. We children affectionately referred to our house as "the cave". Then I got married and moved into a delicious little home with CENTRAL AIR!!!! Closed or opened shades, it didn't matter. My house was cool. I survived four summer pregnancies this way. Thinking about it now is actually bringing me some small chest pains. Mayyyyybe that is heartburn.

Anyway. Belleholm has no air conditioning.

I will let that sink in for a minute.

 In my first year here, I am learning much about survival of the elements. Power outages, heat warnings, snow storms, etc. I am learning which direction the sun shines in through which windows, when the trees provide shade for each side of the house, which way the breeze blows and which way to face the fans...and I have officially constructed my own "cave".  Outdoor temperature 80- Indoor temperature 71. Nailed it. The humidity and temperature have both risen steadily since that picture was taken back on June 2.

 And. AND. AND. Anne has gotten more pregnant. Bigger. Heavier. Filled with more baby and more water and more hormones. And the day came in the beginning of July that I thought I would die. I didn't even take a picture of the thermostat because I didn't want to believe that it was 98 outside, 84 inside with an indoor humidity of 85%. Believe it. I called Matt crying and insisted he buy me a window unit now NOW NOW NOW NOW! The children had been sleeping with us in the living room downstairs for two nights because the bedrooms were hotter than Hades. I was tired. I was hot. I was hyperventilating. I had spent the afternoon at the air conditioned library in town, just sitting on the floor, weeping tears of gratitude. Matt came home from work, we jumped in the car and bought the first air conditioning unit we found on Craigslist that was less than 30 minutes from the house. We drove home, scrubbed it clean and started it up. I won't tell you how I felt like French kissing an electrical device that breathes cold air. I won't tell you how long I cried tears of relief (again Anne, with the crying). I won't tell you how Matt actually feared for his life until the window unit was home and installed. I will only tell you that now, when the days become intolerable, Belleholm has one closed-off room that will remain the temperature of Antarctica until the arrival of sixlet or the first snow...whichever comes last.

 

Side Note: OBVIOUSLY there have been people living here for over 160 years that have tolerated this weather. The women of this home probably wore long skirts in the heat of summer, bore babies here, and didn't complain.

 I am not those women. God Bless their souls. 

Sarah will be flower girl at Matt's brother's wedding this upcoming fall. Here she is with Aunt Erika, the bride!

Pentecost, the birthday of the church, and Matt's birthday!

No babysitters = Anne takes all the kids everywhere.

Before the day she climbed out of her crib.

The doctor says that society will have an entire generation of people who don't know how to tie their shoes because of the increase in slip-ons and Velcro fasteners. Don't ever say that to a pregnant woman. We promptly purchased a pair of shoes with ties for Joseph and he has infuriated himself trying to learn to tie them. I'm just another mom, living and breathing mom-guilt, determined that my children will need therapy for the rest of their lives because of the things I make them do. 

Sarah turned 8. Impossible.

No more pool! Instant backyard! Brand new "sandbox" for the kids!

The love of my life.

31 weeks. Getting closer. Thinking about finding out where the hospital is pretty soon.

The babies found Matt's private magazine stash in the closet. Yup, they are train magazines.

We all have our vices.

The big girl bed. I truly cannot believe she climbed out of her crib so soon. Where did the time go?

We spend a good amount of time at the train yard, watching trains go by. It's a good and peaceful life.

Home from work. I can only imagine what it feels like to come home and find this after a long day at the office.

Refusing to sleep in the toddler bed. Because that's just Esther for you.

A story they all invented: "The talking flowers of Hamsterdam". Sarah says, "We thought of an interesting topic that people would want to read about, Joseph made up the title, and now we want to polish up the story and add colorful adjectives."

Waiting to hear the heartbeat of Sixlet...over the din.

Thomas calls this, Esther's bedroom, the Gated Community.

Sarah woke up early, got everyone dressed, and insisted that I take them all to Mass on the Feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

Ellen, perfecting her selfies with my phone.

Nathan got himself and Esther dressed to go to the library on the hottest day of the year.

DAY 2 of the heat warning: get out Halloween costumes to keep the children peaceful.

Front porch swinging.

A concert during my morning coffee.

And they are MARRIED!

Celebrating Steve and Emily Schwalm, back in Syracuse.

Our neighbors.

Matt is finishing up my floor, the project that was promised to be finished before this baby comes home.

I took a screenshot of this weather forecast because that is how ridiculous I thought it was.

Matt, up in the cupola, waiting for the "storm".

It actually did turn out to be an F2 tornado about 30 minutes east of our home. We don't know what it was when it hit Belleholm. We were truly blessed to only have to go find our outdoor belongings that had blown away, to pull that branch off the roof and tidy up the limbs in the yard. Our neighbors lost entire trees and their homes.

We thought the rainbow was over BJs, a reminder to never bring our children grocery shopping at 7p ever again.

But it was really over the train yard.