A weekend's worth of carpentry

So, I'm still working on the last post in my epic tale of the hardwood floor, and I haven't had a chance to go up into the attic to fix the thing I need to fix (and take the pictures I need to take), so for now, something completely different.

Ever since we moved in, we've been working in fits and starts on the bear pit (living room). We got the flooring done right away, but other priorities took over once that was finished, and the trim took FOREVER even when we were working on it to the exclusion of other tasks, and of course the painting was a full week (including two weekends) of hard labour, and we had the family room with the TV and the nice wood stove so it's not like we were hurting for a living room or anything, and I guess what I'm trying to say is that we still haven't really finished the bear pit. It's been painted for a while, and almost all the trim is done, but there's been one rather large obstacle to calling it finished - and actually moving into our living room.

This thing:



Yeah, that's a big job. It's going to need a new mantle (the old one sort of matched the light fixtures - enough said), the brick looks out-of-place in the room now, and the hearth tiles are freaking UGLY. Given the amount of work involved in fixing all those things, however... well, let's just say that other chores start to look a lot more appealing. We did manage to clean, prime, and paint the bricks, but beyond that, the fireplace - and the bear pit in general - has just sat there, quietly mocking us.

Fortunately, we've gotten something of a kick in the pants: in two weeks, we're getting a couple of hand-me-down couches, and we have nowhere to store them other than the living room. Which means it's finally time to tackle the bear pit.

So I called Mike, our flooring guy, to come back and finish a couple of tricky bits of finish work on the trim that I just couldn't figure out by myself. I was planning on asking him if he'd build a mantel for us as well, but I got the distinct impression that he really didn't want to do the mantel. Maybe it was when he said, "Oh, man. I'm never doing a mantel again."

Thinking he meant that building a mantel must be so simple that he doesn't consider it a challenge anymore (not really), I decided to tackle the job myself.

I started on Saturday morning by heading over to Home Depot and then to the finishing store. In case you're curious, here's my materials list:

• 4x8 sheet of 1/2" good-one-side plywood


• 10' of 3/4" half-round


• 10' of 3/8" x 3 1/2" crown molding


• 10' of 1 1/4" flat trim


• 10' of 1/2" x 3/8" crown molding


• wood glue


• 1 1/4" and 3/4" brad nails


• 1 5/8" and 1 1/4" wood screws

Once I got back from the stores, the first step was to rip a couple of 6" wide strips of plywood and assemble a box that was the same size as the top layer of bricks. This was trickier than it sounds, largely due to the fact that the bricks were not square OR level, and the box had to match as closely as I could make it. I used a couple of scrap two-by-twos to reinforce the corners, and left off the rear side so I could attach it to the wall and then assemble the rest of the box in place.

The next step was to call my neighbor and ask if he had any spare two-by-fours around, seeing as how I had left them off my materials list. Fortunately, he did, so I didn't have to go back out.

I cut the two-by-four down to size and glued it with some PL Premium to the front course of bricks - note the nice even tone on the bricks, thanks to three coats of paint:



Once that was secure, I screwed the back side of the box to the wall, and then attached the other three sides to the back, and to the two-by-four:





So far, so good. Well, okay, I admit that by the time I finished this step, I'd been working at it for almost four hours. And I'd left a whole schwack of holes in that one corner where I couldn't get the damn screw to bite properly, but I'd be covering that up any time now.

The next step was to build a three-sided box that would cover the existing frame, and extend down far enough to overlap the bricks slightly. So it was back to the table saw, where I ripped another strip of plywood, this one at 6 1/4" wide. Unlike the first box, however, this one would have exposed corners, so I couldn't use another butt joint. Adding to the complexity was the fact that this box would need to be as square and level as I could make it; a whole lot of mitered corners were going to be on and around this part, and it was important that I get it right.

Which is totally the excuse I would use if anyone were to ask me why it took another two hours to finish this part (I screwed up the first cut and had to rip another piece off my rapidly shrinking sheet of plywood):





I admit it, I was a little disheartened at this point. I mean, I knew it wasn't going to be easy, but even assembling what amounted to two nested boxes had taken me the lion's share of an entire day - and I hadn't even stopped for lunch.

The next stage would be one of the trickiest, and was the stage I had been dreading since I started the project: crown molding. I knew I had a little bit extra to play with, so I cut off a length and started playing around with the saw and thinking about how to cut the angles I needed. If you're unfamiliar with crown molding and why I was a little apprehensive, check this out: Cutting crown molding (or just Google "crown molding angle charts").

Oh, and then remind yourself that I'm really terrible at math... I gave up and made some dinner instead.

After a shower, I cracked open a beer, and sat down at the computer to check the intertubes, see if anyone had some advice. I already knew that the best way (the only way, really) to cut crown molding is upside-down, and I lucked out and found an awesome YouTube video that showed how to make a simple jig. I was so fired up that I went back down to the garage and fired up the saw again.

About three hours (and an "in just before closing" trip to Home Depot) later, I had managed to cut and attach the three pieces of crown molding to the sides of the outer plywood box.





If you're wondering why the pictures look a little dark, it's because it was after 11:00 when I finished...

The next morning, I started by assembling the top. Rather than try and find a perfectly flat, straight piece of 1" stock that was at least a foot wide, I decided to go with the War Department's suggestion and use two pieces of plywood stacked together. I ripped two 11" wide strips of plywood (I had a strip less than an inch wide left over after this - no screwing up, or it would cost me another trip to Home Depot and another sheet of plywood), glued them together, and stuck in a few screws to keep them tight.

Then I had to put the top in place, scribe it carefully, and take it back into the shop where I took the jigsaw, belt sander, and plane to the back edge. The wall, of course, has a bow in it, and I had to duplicate the curvature of the wall or the top would not be flush with the edges of the crown molding.

Two hours, a trip to Crappy Tire, and two belts later:





Of course, you can't leave exposed edges of plywood like that (they never seal or take paint properly and always look terrible), so the next step was to cut my 1 1/4" flat trim to cover up the edges of the plywood top and the top edge of the crown molding to form a nice, uniform edge:




After that was on, there was still one more exposed plywood edge that needed covering: the bottom of the outside box. This was what the smaller crown molding was for, and it dressed up the bottom edge nicely:



(It's also the piece that extracted this project's pound of flesh - or, as I like to call it, blood equity. More on that in a minute.)

At this point, the War Department thought it looked pretty much done, but I didn't like the wide, blank exposed face, and thought it needed a little bit more detail. Like, for instance, the 3/4" half-round I had already bought?





Oh yeah. That's the ticket.

We'll be filling, sanding, filling, sanding, priming, and painting it for a week or more, but at least it's BUILT.

The Injury Report

Interesting thing about 1/2" plywood: it's not quite half an inch thick. Interesting thing about 1/2" x 3/8" crown molding: it IS exactly a half-inch thick. On the sides of the mantel, the outside box (to which I needed to attach the crown molding) was tight to the brick, making the crown molding jut out past the edge of the face. Seeing as how I couldn't exactly sand down the brick, I had to figure out how to make the molding thinner.

"Ah ha," says I. "I'll rip it on the table saw!"

Well, the molding was just too thin, and me trying to cut down the tall side meant that the thin side had to go against the fence and ... yeah, I have too much respect for the power of a table saw to really try and force that issue.

So I turned my attention to the belt sander. I had seen Mike use the sander to make fine adjustments to the trim on the stairs by putting the sander upside down and holding the work piece against the belt, and I figured I could do the same.

Well, it worked a treat. I managed to get both pieces down quickly and fairly evenly, and a quick test fit showed I was on the right track.

Unfortunately, when I was trimming down the last little bit of the last little piece, my fingers slipped. The little piece went shooting off across the garage (it was unharmed, fortunately), and my thumb ground down onto the moving belt. In a split second, I sanded off a good chunk of my thumbnail, and part of the cuticle on the left side of my right thumb.

It didn't bleed much, but it hurts like hell to hit the space bar - making this entire blog post one of the more painful ones I've ever written.

UPDATE

It's come to my attention that I failed to give credit where credit was due: not only did the the War Department suggest I use two layers of plywood as the top rather than a single board, she also helped out a LOT by spending all weekend either out of the house helping someone else with their electrical work, or doing her own little projects - in short, staying out of my hair unless I needed an extra hand to hold a piece of trim in place.

So yes, she deserves some of the credit.