Homemade in America: Meet the “Tiki Doors”

Remember Eldin Bernecky? Murphy Brown’s free-spirited painter, a.k.a. domestic Jersey Boy Robert Pastorelli? Never one to paint a wall white? Or finish a wall for that matter?

Yeah, well, I have one of those, sort of, and I firmly believe everyone should. If only there were enough Eldins to go around. Because there are not, his identity will remain somewhat secret at least for the time being. But my Eldin does deserve some public credit for all the hard work he has put in here at The Hapless Homeowner HQ. So today I am trotting him out by way of introducing just one of his many projects. (Eventually E might control his own little folder on this blog, sharing tips and advice for fellow d-i-y-ers, if the spirit moves him, of course. So, in that sense at least, sure, I’m willing to share the wealth.)

Today’s project, the first of its kind in The Eldin Files, is The Tiki Doors, which actually made their debut on the Fourth of July, to rave reviews, at my annual Independence Day Backyard Hootenanny. Said one of the first to behold them: “I have to say, everything you do (or have done) is usually nice, but sometimes I question if something was really necessary. But these … ”

I think he went on to say something along the lines of, “These are the bomb.”

Yeah, Eldin!

The tiki doors are nothing more than homemade garage doors, carriage style as opposed to overhead, and they have been floating around in my imagination/dreams for, oh, years now. To make an apt comparison, I’ll borrow from a shiftgig.com link E sent me late last night, to a humor piece about chefs and, presumably, cooks. In this case — oh, OK, in many of the cases — I am the chef, and E is the cook. In other words, I do the scheming and dreaming and am responsible for the vision of the house, but E does the actual heavy lifting, the boiling and baking and frying and flipping and such. In other words, most of the actual work. (Sometimes I help. And sometimes I am ordered to help. This is what we call “sweat equity.” Keeps the costs, and sometimes the crankiness, down.) But to complete the chef/cook analogy and quote shiftgig again: “You go into the chef’s office with your own ideas and come out with the chef’s ideas.”

I rather like that. But then again I’m the chef.

Anyway, moving on …

Here’s an imaginary Q&A. I’ll answer questions I assume folks might ask about these brand-new doors. If not, carry on then. I am not a mind-reader; I only play one on the Interwebs.

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Q: Why are they called tiki doors?

A: Because they front what is called The Tipsy Tiki (see sign in top photo), which is more of a warm-season lounge/party hut than a garage. And “tipsy” is not actually a reference to any sort of imbibing (though margaritas and such are certainly enjoyed under its roof). No, the “Tipsy” in “Tipsy Tiki” is actually a play on the fact that the garage itself leans a bit. What happens in Pisa doesn’t always stay in Pisa. And perhaps worth noting for future reference: It’s safe to say NOTHING in this house is plumb.

Q: Why were these doors necessary?

A: Well, “necessary” might be a bit of a strong word, but they certainly made the garage, in which a car has never rested its wheels as long as I have rested my head here (nine years), more user-friendly. The problem with overhead doors is when they are open they subtract half your ceiling height, and ceiling height is kind of a critical factor in an outdoor room, especially on a hot summer day. Plus, as overhead doors open, they tend to bring with them all kinds of earthen detritus and/or bugs that have become attached to their bottom rubber strips. Now, when the carriage-style doors open out, all that junk stays where it belongs, on the bottom of the door, not threatening to drop onto your face or into your beverage without warning.

Q: So those babies fold?

A: Why, yes, they do. Thanks for asking. Each set of doors is bifold, which was a critical part of the project due to space restrictions and the proximity of the patio onto which they open. We had to make sure we were not going to sacrifice patio space for ceiling height. That would not be a fair trade.

Q: And what are they made of exactly?

A: To quote a favorite brother of mine, “Just a piece of wood.” Or actually just a few pieces of wood. That’s a whole ’nother story, but suffice to say a beloved nephew once was terror-stricken by a decorative wooden owl that used to belong to his great-grandmother. To calm his young, suffering soul, his father/my brother simply delivered the soothing words “just a piece of wood,” which over the years has become our family mantra for anything that at its heart is pretty basic and not to be feared. So, yeah, these are basically plywood pieces with 1-inch-thick pine frames. The plywood has beadboard grooves factory-cut into it. I have a minor obsession with beadboard; it’s probably my all-time favorite feature of “cottage style,” which I like to say I have adopted even though I live nowhere near the beach. Hey, if pretending gets you through the night …

Q: Just basic wood, eh? Aren’t you worried about insulation and R-value and all that technical stuff?

A: Nah, not really. But mainly because this is a DETACHED garage, so I really don’t have to concern myself with those niceties. I would never dare try something like this on an attached garage. (OK, maybe I actually would, but I know it would not be smart.)

Q: Those are some fairly fantastic colors. Who picked those out, and where can I get that exact paint myself?

A: Why thank you. Yes, I like to think I am gosh-darn adept at picking out paint, even though I also am equally good at growing weary of paint. Sherwin-Williams and I are BFFs these days, OK? (Words to the wise: That pricy-but-worth-it paint is almost always gettable at 25 percent off and more often 30, but the 40 percent-off sales are the ones that get my heart pumping and wallet wailing, and when once in a “Sleepy Blue” (SW 6225) moon a 50 percent-off sale hits, you RUN, not walk, to your nearest store. It’s OK to say you don’t have the coupon; they’re pretty good about scanning one in storage at the register.

Anyway, you wanted to know the exact colors: Blue Sky and Torchlight.
Blue Sky (SW 0063) happens to match my front door and an also-homemade-by-Eldin wooden screen door and happens also to be an “old” Sherwin-Williams color. No, I did not know this when I first bought it for the front door; I was only distressed to learn it when I went in for refills. Say what now, you woman at the register you? Do you deliberately taunt me in so casually noting my color choice here was not exactly modern and cutting edge!? Well, harumph and huzzah and no matter. I’ve made my peace. Sometimes oldies really are goodies. And this year, any form of turquoise is still, you know, a Thing.

Torchlight (SW 6374) became my accent color because, well, torchlight! Everyone knows paint colors are best picked for their fitting names. And what’s a tiki without a torch?

Q: Are the insides of the doors painted the same color?

A: No, the backs of the doors are bright white, by design. If ever I need to be in there with the doors closed and lights off, say during a power outage at the end of the world, the white will let me better see my way around while I make my amends.

Q: Why can’t I see behind the doors?

A: You can. Just not yet. The inside is a work-in-progress, involving new walls and a speckled floor and one of those big old tropical-style ceiling fans. I’m not quite there yet. But when money and time permit, if you’re still following me, wait, you’ll see.

Q: So when can I come over?

A: I once had a neighbor across the street — God rest your good soul, Dan — who considered his single-car garage a bit of a beer-and-brotherhood hut (sisterhood, too). He always told me, “If the doors are open, the bar is open. And you are invited.”

I shall adopt his policy to keep his memory alive. Come on over any time, friends. To quote one of my favorite hymns (and its master lyricist Marty Haugen): “All are welcome in this place.”

~ SJS (AMDG)