Dear Cyndy,

The telephone just rang. A very pleasant and competent sounding
lady from Deck House, who told me she had been with the company
for 35 years. I described your project as a small house in the
western Berkshires, to be used part time, and identified myself
as being responsible for having suggested Deck House to you.
I gave her your name and your e-mail address; she said she would
write to you.

As with medical issues, I'm much concerned lest my opinions,
solicited and unsolicited, get you in trouble. I reiterate my
belief that without Ned's involvement and support, a successful
outcome of your building project is very uncertain, while with
his participation and involvement, the project could hardly fail,
if only because that participation and involvement would in itself
constitute success, even if everything else were more or less of
a disappointment.

I contemplate the spectrum of your options. I'd be surprised if
you wanted this: but aside from renting, the economically most
efficient would be to obtain shelter in one or more trailers
that could be towed to the property for a week or a month or
a season. The only absolute requirement would be a level parking
space. On-site electricity and or sewage disposal might or might
not prove desirable or necessary. Such trailers come in all sizes;
they could be bought or rented. The financial costs would be
limited and predictable, regulatory hassles and taxes, minimal.

If you decide on a permanent structure, surveying and siting are
very important.  By creating as many potential lots as possible,
sufficiently spacious not only for a dwelling but also for a well
and a septic system, you will preserve for your heirs the option of
subdividing the property You begin by assembling _all_ existing
descriptions of the property, deeds, plots, plats, maps, surveys,
from your own files, from Gillians, from the county records.
You identify from the maps and on the ground one, and if possible,
two benchmarks from which to begin a survey.

What I would do next if I were on my own, and what I am willing to
do for you if you want me to, is to draw with my computer-aided design
(DesignCAD) program a prototype map with possible sites for houses,
septic systems and wells. Then I'd rent a theodolite for a day, -
I already own an electronic distance meter, and stake out on the ground
the locations for houses, septic systems and wells as shown on the
drawing. I would take photos of the sites and of the views. To hire
a surveyor to do this work would be prohibitively expensive;
it wouldn't seem worth the cost and it wouldn't get done.
Furthermore, you would lose flexibility, inasmuch as each change
in the drawings that the surveyor made would trigger a new charge.

Then I would consult local real estate agents, - and scan the Internet, -
to find out about the rental market. This might influence a decision
as to the number of bedrooms and as to the heating system. A summer home
without heat would also require no insulation, - but would obviously
be much less rentable and much less useful. I would strongly favor
a heating system of some kind.

Only at this juncture would I consult the builders, review all my
options, and decide which was best for me. In their previous
incarnation, Deck House offered to send a planner to help locate
the house on the property. Deck Houses are optimally situated on
sloping ground; the lowest level open to the light in front, but
partially beneath grade in the rear (or vice versa). This arrangement
makes very efficient use of space, but the traditional Deck House
doesn't give you a basement or an attic for storing junk, so if I
acquired a Deck House, I'd have to change my habits.

The questions to put to the building contractor(s) will depend
on the specifics of the situation. While my attitude is that time
does not matter, because the process rather than the product is
what I value, such an attitude that time is insignificant is not
appropriate for you, it's not realistic to think that "supervision
of the construction" would take only a month or two. "Supervision
of the construction" begins right now and continues until the
house is complete. At every stage there will be decisions to be
made. At every stage the contractor or the supplier can short-change
you by not fulfilling his promises; and one either delegates the
responsibility completely, - in which case costs go up by a 
minimum of 33 percent, - possibly much more, or one stays closely
involved at every stage of the construction, as is my habit.
As for myself, you know I'm interested and willing to give you
any and all the help you want, but you'll have to ask for it.

================

The story of the wayward dog has ended. Here's the summary
as I edited it this morning:

Yesterday was the day the rabies vaccine for the miniature pinscher
was to be delivered. The Internet routing table showed that
the vaccine had arrived at Kingsport TN at 6:39 a.m. By 7 a.m.
it was on the truck for local delivery. Since I didn't know
when the delivery would be made, I kept an eye on the driveway,
easy to do from the computer where I was working. About 10 a.m.
a white pickup truck pulled up to the mailbox. Not the vaccine
as I had thought, but my grade school classmate, Buck Sheets,
who greeted me on the lawn to explain with much satisfaction
that in Chilhowie, he had found a family with 5 children that
badly wanted a dog. The little black miniature pinscher agreed.
He greeted Buck with the same enthusiasm with which he had accosted me,
and readily jumped into the pickup truck. I watched with relief
as the two of them drove down the hill on their way to Chilhowie
and the little dog's new home.

The Internet Routing table shows that at 12:46 p.m. the package
supposedly containing the vaccine was left at the side door of
20287 Coolgreen Road, Damascus VA 24236. That's not exactly true.
The Fedex driver, a lady, handed it to me, and I opened it 
immediately. The rather large cardboard box contained a styrofoam
container packed with plastic bags of cold water, and in their midst,
not only a single small 10 ml. vial of Rabvac -3, but taped together
two plastic containers each with 50 small vials, sufficient for
25 doses of distemper vaccine, which of course I hadn't ordered,
and which Revival Animal Health, which sold me the Rabvac-3,
lists for 62.99 each. The distemper vaccine appears on none of the
invoices or packing slips.  Inasmuch as the charge for the rabies
vaccine has not yet appeared on my credit card account (neither
has the charge for the washing machine), it remains to be seen how
much I will be charged.

The departure of the dog was a relief. For the first time in six days,
Margaret could walk around the house without having the creature jump
up to her. I was pleased to be able to forget about fashioning out of
a trash barrel an electrically heated doghouse in which the animal could
survive the winter. But life is not simple: all was not well. 
In mid-afternoon there appeared at the door of the porch where
I was working on my novel, a youngish, rather disreputable looking woman
with brightly painted lips and fingernails, a soft drink bottle in her
right hand, and unkempt strands of brunette hair waving about her
shoulders, asking for the whereabouts of a small black miniature pinscher
which had been lost for several days. She had arrived in a very large,
Lincoln sedan, so rusted and dilapidated as to make my old blue '95 minivan
appear a paragon of elegance. The old Licoln was now parked in the driveway
just behind my four year old Dodge. Accompanying the younger one, sitting
in the Lincoln, was a white-haired woman, much older, disheleveled and
distraught, who lamented and bemoaned the loss of her dog. I explained
the circumstances of its relocation and led the younger of the two to
the front of the house from where I could point out Buck Sheets' house.
I assured them that Buck would know and would tell them to whom he had
taken the dog. I invited them to return if they had trouble finding
Buck. I felt sorry for the old, and obviously very poor woman, and a
little bit guilty that I had been so eager to get rid of the dog that
I had not held onto it longer so as to be able to give it back to her. 
I returned to my writing. When I failed to see the large old Lincoln Town
Car make its way down the driveway, I went back to the driveway, and
found that the Lincoln was stuck on the lawn, at an angle. just a foot
in front of the garage door, its wheels spinning ineffectively in the mud.
The older woman was behind the wheel. The young woman attempting to dislodge
the very large and heavy car by pushing. I tried to help, but in vain.
I opened the garage door to protect it from accidental damage, and suggested
to the older woman that she permit me to try to get the car unstuck.
She gratefully accepted.s I slipped behind the wheel, and by rocking the car
back and forth, I managed to put it back on the graveled driveway.
After perfunctory apologies for the considerable damage to the lawn,
thex two disappointed visitors finally drove off.

This evening Jeane telephoned and described the scene at Buck's house.
Jeane didn't know the name of the woman to whom the dog belonged, but
identified her as the daughter or daughter-in-law of Lloyd or Lewis MacDaniel,
two brothers who lived two and a half miless from Konnarock, by the side
of the Iron Mountain Road. I remember the MacDaniels, with whom I had
gone to school, as surly and hostile; one of them had once threatened
to beat me up. I don't remember the details. It turned out that the
MacDanbiel woman, who had been deferential when she spoke with me,
had a very unsatisfactory interview with Buck.  It's not clear to me
whether Buck didn't know to whom he had given the dog, whether he was
embarrassed to have it retrieved from its new owners, or whether he
simply didn't like the old woman (who reminded me somewhat of his mother)
and wished to hurt her by refusing to tell to whom he had given her dog.
The woman was not to be intimidated; she upbraided Buck, and threatened
to have him arrested for stealing her dog, Finally, according to
Jeane's report, Buck persuaded the women to leave by threatening
to call the police. He justified his refusal to help the woman
retrieve her dog with the explanation that within recent memory
the old woman's relatives had arranged to have some of her dogs
taken away because for days she had failed to feed them. Buck
was confident that he had done the "right" thing, and that the
dog was now much better off than he would have been with his
original owner. I'm impressed with the contrast between Buck's
and Jeanes hostility and insensitivity to the plight of the old
woman who had lost her dog, for whom I felt very sorry, and Jeane's
and Buck's courtesy and sensitivity to Margaret and myself.
I think to some extent my parents' charisma has rubbed off on us,
and we may even have acquired some charisma os our own. I don't
understand it.  The world is more complex than we tend to imagine.
We're clearly in need of a deity to adjudicate the fate of wandering
dogs, their owners, and their Samaritans. God help them all: it's
far beyond me.

Please give my best to Ned.

Jochen