Home Builder Developer - Interior Renovation and Design

A kitchen is a room or part of a room used for cooking and food preparation. In the West, a modern residential kitchen is typically equipped with a stove, a sink with hot and cold running water, a refrigerator and kitchen cabinets arranged according to a modular design. Many households have a microwave oven, a dishwasher and other electric appliances. The main function of a kitchen is cooking or preparing food but it may also be used for dining, food storage, entertaining, dishwashing, laundry.

The evolution of the kitchen is linked to the invention of the cooking range or stove and the development of water infrastructure capable of supplying water to private homes. Until the 18th century, food was cooked over an open fire. Technical advances in heating food in the 18th and 19th centuries, changed the architecture of the kitchen. Before the advent of modern pipes, water was brought from an outdoor source such as wells, pumps or springs.

The houses in Ancient Greece were commonly of the atrium-type: the rooms were arranged around a central courtyard for women. In many such homes, a covered but otherwise open patio served as the kitchen. Homes of the wealthy had the kitchen as a separate room, usually next to a bathroom (so that both rooms could be heated by the kitchen fire), both rooms being accessible from the court. In such houses, there was often a separate small storage room in the back of the kitchen used for storing food and kitchen utensils.

In the Roman Empire, common folk in cities often had no kitchen of their own; they did their cooking in large public kitchens. Some had small mobile bronze stoves, on which a fire could be lit for cooking. Wealthy Romans had relatively well-equipped kitchens. In a Roman villa, the kitchen was typically integrated into the main building as a separate room, set apart for practical reasons of smoke and sociological reasons of the kitchen being operated by slaves. The fireplace was typically on the floor, placed at a wallsometimes raised a little bitsuch that one had to kneel to cook. There were no chimneys.

Early medieval European longhouses had an open fire under the highest point of the building. The "kitchen area" was between the entrance and the fireplace. In wealthy homes there was typically more than one kitchen. In some homes there were upwards of three kitchens. The kitchens were divided based on the types of food prepared in them.[1] In place of a chimney, these early buildings had a hole in the roof through which some of the smoke could escape. Besides cooking, the fire also served as a source of heat and light to the single-room building. A similar design can be found in the Iroquois longhouses of North America.

In the larger homesteads of European nobles, the kitchen was sometimes in a separate sunken floor building to keep the main building, which served social and official purposes, free from indoor smoke.

The first known stoves in Japan date from about the same time. The earliest findings are from the Kofun period (3rd to 6th century). These stoves, called kamado, were typically made of clay and mortar; they were fired with wood or charcoal through a hole in the front and had a hole in the top, into which a pot could be hanged by its rim. This type of stove remained in use for centuries to come, with only minor modifications. Like in Europe, the wealthier homes had a separate building which served for cooking. A kind of open fire pit fired with charcoal, called irori, remained in use as the secondary stove in most homes until the Edo period (17th to 19th century). A kamado was used to cook the staple food, for instance rice, while irori served both to cook side dishes and as a heat source.

The kitchen remained largely unaffected by architectural advances throughout the Middle Ages; open fire remained the only method of heating food. European medieval kitchens were dark, smoky, and sooty places, whence their name "smoke kitchen". In European medieval cities around the 10th to 12th centuries, the kitchen still used an open fire hearth in the middle of the room. In wealthy homes, the ground floor was often used as a stable while the kitchen was located on the floor above, like the bedroom and the hall. In castles and monasteries, the living and working areas were separated; the kitchen was sometimes moved to a separate building, and thus could not serve anymore to heat the living rooms. In some castles the kitchen was retained in the same structure, but servants were strictly separated from nobles, by constructing separate spiral stone staircases for use of servants to bring food to upper levels. An extant example of such a medieval kitchen with servants' staircase is at Muchalls Castle in Scotland. In Japanese homes, the kitchen started to become a separate room within the main building at that time.

With the advent of the chimney, the hearth moved from the center of the room to one wall, and the first brick-and-mortar hearths were built. The fire was lit on top of the construction; a vault underneath served to store wood. Pots made of iron, bronze, or copper started to replace the pottery used earlier. The temperature was controlled by hanging the pot higher or lower over the fire, or placing it on a trivet or directly on the hot ashes. Using open fire for cooking (and heating) was risky; fires devastating whole cities occurred frequently.

Leonardo da Vinci invented an automated system for a rotating spit for spit-roasting: a propeller in the chimney made the spit turn all by itself. This kind of system was widely used in wealthier homes. Beginning in the late Middle Ages, kitchens in Europe lost their home-heating function even more and were increasingly moved from the living area into a separate room. The living room was now heated by tiled stoves, operated from the kitchen, which offered the huge advantage of not filling the room with smoke.

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Kitchen - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

We have gone a little over a year without any additional projects in the kitchen. After staying in a vacation home that had a high-end built-in coffee maker, we decided to add one more.

We really liked the Miele coffee & espressp maker, but at $2400 or more, it's pretty much a budget-buster...

After doing some searching online, the cheapest built-in unit we could find was $1800. Free-standing units with the same features run $700 to $1500, so we decided to go with that option, hoping to spend less than $1000. My DW doesn't want it to sit on the kitchen counter, so we will build an in-wall coffee center. This will hold the machine, canisters for beans and cups, and it will pull out for easy access.

The only place available in the kitchen is on the wall outside the pantry as shown below. It can sit between the pantry door and the fridge, and push back into the pantry shelves.

Here is the concept picture...

I will need to move the display shelf up 4 to 6 inches and frame out a box. At present, I think the cabinet will be 18" high, sitting 36" off the ground. This will take up about one and a half of the pantry shelves on that wall, which really isn't that much. I hope to build and install this over the Christmas to New Years holiday. If any of you readers have had a good or bad experience with automatic coffee & espresso makers, I would appreciate you leaving a comment. I am currently considering one made by Bosch...

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10k Kitchen Remodel

The final weeks of 2014 generated some major buzz in the world of space exploration: an unmanned probe landed on a comet, there was a test flight for NASAs newest space vehicle, and 3-D printing went to the next dimension.

Here on Earth, CTVNews.ca has compiled a list of notable space ventures the past 12 months, with a peek at where were going in 2015:

1. Pioneering Philae lands on comet, takes a nap

European Space Agency scientists had smiles as wide as the sun in November. Their Philae probe landed on a comet a first in human-directed space exploration. Dubbed the Rosetta mission, Philae had travelled for 10 years and 6.4 billion-kilometres. Once it landed on the 4-km wide comet 67P/Churyumov-Gerasimenko, Philae proceeded to collect data, including photos and some haunting space sounds. But Philae soon fell silent, or rather, fell asleep. The probes solar-powered batteries drained after the craft bounced twice and landed in the shadow of a cliff. But stay tuned: the probe has promised itll be back after it catches some zzzzs.

2. Orion completes test flight

NASA ushered in the Mars era, as one space agency administrator put it, when the unmanned Orion completed its first successful test flight in early December. The capsule shot some 5,800 kilometres into the solar system, tooktwo laps around Earth, before splashing down in the Pacific. The four-hour mission brought some scientists to tears, as NASA looks to future Orion fleets to carry humans beyond the confines of Earths orbit. Mars is the best possibility. The buzz the launch generated had not been felt since 2012, when the Curiosity rover made an unprecedented landing on the Red Planet.

3. Comet buzzes by Mars

Astronomers were treated to spectacular views when a comet buzzed by Mars for the first time in more than a million years. In October, the so-called Siding Spring comet came within 140,000 kilometres from Mars surface. By space standards, thats a pretty close shave. Scientists said that there was no danger of a collision with the Red Planet, where various probes now roam, but the flyby did provide scientists an educational opportunity.

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Out of this world: 5 of the coolest things in space in 2014

Updated Power Management Software Provides Real-Time and Simulated Capacity Management to Reduce Unplanned Downtime and Enhance System Reliability, Performance

PITTSBURGH, PA Power management company Eaton today announced the release of the latest version of its Power Xpert Insight software. The power and energy monitoring platform provides a dashboard view into real-time energy usage, efficiency and power quality for facility, energy, information technology and health care managers. The update builds on the robust platform by adding real-time capacity management for power distribution and power quality devices. The update also allows users to perform simulations of electrical load increases, set capacity thresholds and model potential system impacts to help reduce the risk of unplanned downtime and provide adequate system protection prior to the addition of new electrical equipment.

During periods of peak loading, or when installing new equipment, it is vital to ensure adequate electrical capacity to avoid unplanned power interruptions, said Marty Aaron, product line manager at Eaton. By providing the ability to simulate load additions, the new capacity management and simulation features can help commercial and industrial customers proactively forecast peak capacity requirements to predict system performance more efficiently and reliably.

With an intuitive user interface, Eatons Power Xpert Insight software allows customers to view real-time information down to the device level, view energy usage and demand data, compare and trend data, and view a one-line representation of their electrical system. The newest version of the software builds on these capabilities with the new capacity management function. It is specifically designed to provide users with accurate capacity management and planning tools, such as color-coded graphs, user-defined thresholds for cautionary, critical load levels and trend graphed simulation capabilities.

A Modbus protocol adapter is engineered into the software to simplify the integration of backup power devices from a variety of manufacturers that communicate on open protocols. Providing a more unified view into building status, the protocol adapter can also ease integration of backup power system data into comprehensive building management systems.

Further, the Web-based energy management software is paired with installation and deployment support. Providing a step-by-step guide, the software helps users configure alarm, firewall and communication settings at the touch of a button to reduce the risk of error during system installation and commissioning.

To learn more and interact with Power Xpert Insight, visit http://www.eaton.com/pxi.

Eatons electrical business is a global leader with expertise in power distribution and circuit protection; backup power protection; control and automation; lighting and security; structural solutions and wiring devices; solutions for harsh and hazardous environments; and engineering services. Eaton is positioned through its global solutions to answer todays most critical electrical power management challenges.

Eaton is a power management company with 2013 sales of $22.0 billion. Eaton provides energy-efficient solutions that help our customers effectively manage electrical, hydraulic and mechanical power more efficiently, safely and sustainably. Eaton has approximately 103,000 employees and sells products to customers in more than 175 countries. For more information, visit http://www.eaton.com.

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Energy Monitoring Software offers capacity, simulation features.

JOIN TUBING or HOSE USING SUPER GLUE NO CLAMPS..
Here you have a way of joining you hoses tubbing without clamping screwing joints on to it. No restrictions or chokes on the inner diameter. So the water flows freely. This is a permanent ...

By: Herman Wieland

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JOIN TUBING or HOSE USING SUPER GLUE NO CLAMPS.. - Video

Ideally, windows should be washed twice a year, but it's a task most people don't look forward to. Part of what makes window washing such a chore is that homeowners insist on doing it with wadded-up paper towels or newspaper, spray cleaner, and a ton of elbow grease.

"All that rubbing isn't a good idea," says Brent Weingard, owner of Expert Window Cleaners in New York City. "You're just moving dirt around from one spot to another and putting a static charge on the glass, which attracts dust and dirt. As soon as you finish, the window looks dirty again."

As Weingard demonstrates, it's easier and more effective to clean glass like the pros do: with a squeegee and a few other readily available tools. The techniques aren't complicated, he says, and the results may surprise you.

"I don't know of anything that can transform living spaces so well. You don't know what you're missing until you do the windows," says Weingard. Here are two 3-step methods; one for picture windows and another for multipane windows. Got stubborn spots? Step 7 will help you with those.

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How to Clean Windows Like a Pro | This Old House

The family of a window washer who survived a fall from the top of an 11-story building in San Francisco's Financial District last month has raised more than $73,000 to help offset their expenses following the accident.

The fund was established on Dec. 11 and more than 1,160 people have donated money to the family of Pedro Perez, 58, via the fundraising website GoFundMe.

Perez was working when he fell from the top of a building at the intersection of California and Montgomery streets on the morning of Nov. 21.

He landed on a moving car and was seriously injured.

According to the GoFundMe website, Perez suffered extensive brain trauma and internal hemorrhaging, as well as a fractured pelvis, broken arm, and a ruptured artery in his right arm.

Perez is now able to converse with others and is regaining his memory. However, he remains unable to work and it is unclear whether he will be able to walk again, according to the GoFundMe site.

Perez's wife works at a factory in the East Bay and his 19-year-old daughter Monica Perez has taken time off from college to help support the family following the accident. His other two daughters are 11 and 16.

The family asked for donations from the public to help make ends meet, since Perez was the family breadwinner prior to the accident.

According to the GoFundMe site, the goal was to raise the difference between one year of Pedro's wages and the workers' compensation payments for the year, about $20,000. The fund is already at $73,140, more than three times that goal.

Last week, Perez's daughter Monica responded to the outpouring of support and the flood of donations.

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Window washer's family gets $73K in donations after fall

Credit Photograph by Bruce Davidson/Magnum

About ten years ago, I found a roll of undeveloped film in my closet, tucked away in a box crammed with ephemeral youth. Yearbooks from high school. A Rough Rider patch from Teton Valley Ranch Camp. Letters from friends I barely remembered. This roll of film was no regular roll of film; it was a cartridge from a Kodak disk camera that was briefly popular in the nineteen-eighties. It was incredibly thin thanks to the groundbreaking innovation of the internal-disk film, its only problem being the poor quality of its prints, hence its short life span. As a teen-ager, I loved my disk camera, and took it everywhere via my back pocket. It seemed like something from the future, an indication of a streamlined world, and it thrilled me in the way that moving walkways in airports thrilled me, still thrill me to this day. And here, twenty years later, was that future, however defunct, in the palm of my hand. What did it contain? What kind of past spun on that magic wheel?

I have always been drawn to photography, fine art or otherwise, though I am not much of a photographer. I appreciate its egalitarian nature, its reproducible quality, its shooing of absolute expertise. We all take photographs, now more than ever, documenting our lives and sharing them on social networks with the studied eye of a curator. This is me eating a cronut. This is me meeting the Pope. This is me soaked after a rainstorm. We are living in the viral age of the photograph, of the image taking over for the self. As Roland Barthes said, and I use this quote only to sound smart, The photograph is the advent of myself as other: a cunning dissociation of consciousness from identity. Facebook and Instagram are our front windows, the person we want the world to see. But every photograph has a built-in narrative, a readable subtext, a rear window in which the viewer participates, often at odds with the presenter. If I post a picture of me eating a cronut, no matter my attempts at directing the response by way of a hashtag, you thinkwell, I dont know what you think. What an asshole, probably. We read ourselves in others. Always have. We project. We fill in the blanks. We dictate the story. And what is the story we want, the story we need? Every photograph is both a film still and a self-portrait, as Cindy Sherman has shown us, and often desire is at its heart.

I was cleaning my closet because back then I was cleaning everything, and yet my life was still a mess. The reason for this cleaning and this mess: I was writing a novel, a first novel, after publishing a book of short stories, and said novel was not going well. I had already missed two deadlines and had no hope of making the third. Since the book was so late, I decided that the writing had to be perfect, not just the language, the metaphor, the simile, the dialogue, and the character development but the way the words looked on the page. I started to notice the line breaks of the right margin and its row of crooked teeth, and decided that they needed to be as straight and as even as a movie stars smile. I was no longer a writer but an orthodontist; word choices became cosmetic, punctuation like a tightening of wires. Then I discovered the Justify Text tab on my old Powerbook 160. Yay. But this only briefly solved the problem, for I soon noticed the extended gaps between words, the spaces that needed filling, and I was back in the dentists chair, pushing and pulling and adjusting. This was no way to write a novel, so instead I cleaned my apartment and asked myself, again and again, Why did I want to be a writer?

I grew up on Seventy-third Street and Lexington Avenue, the mean streets of the Upper East Side. My parents apartment was on the ninth floor and had views, west and north, of the neighboring buildings, the windows like a contact sheet. My room was the smallest, perhaps appropriate since I was the youngest, and my one small window looked out onto the interior airshaft, a square of deep, dark space never penetrated by the sun, a sort of prisoners vantage. Whatever noise dropped into that pit echoed. My memory of bedroom sound is of babies crying and of Spanish music from the transistor radios of housekeepers and of pigeons, hundreds of pigeons who roosted overnight: the cooing, the almost plastic snap of wings, and, on occasion, if startled, the grey explosion from below to the blue sky fifteen floors above, a mushroom cloud in the form of rock dove. It was, in its way, thrilling, and sometimes, when bored, I would drop something from my window, something that might light the fuse and ignite this thermonuclear pigeon bomb. We were always dropping things from windows back then. It seemed our inalienable right of living so high above ground. Paper airplanes, of course, and paper helicopters that would slowly spiral down and make us question the certainty of gravity. There were the green army men with homemade Kleenex parachutes, their descent doomed. Super balls, often with a kid on the fourth floor gauging the return bounce. Fruit. We were Letterman before Letterman was Letterman. But our favorite projectile was the soggy, its technology quite basic: toilet paper soaked in the bathroom sink and fashioned into a grenade. It made the most satisfying splat on the sidewalk. We would invite friends over with the express purpose of trying to nail them en route to our awning, and more than once my older brother and his friends would rain Charmin fury upon my unsuspecting head, turning me into papier-mch. Sometimes we got in trouble, but less often than you would think. In many ways, the window was our back yard.

New York City is a place of real-estate envy, of coveting thy neighbors townhouse, of always wishing for another room. Like many of my fellow city dwellers, I have a recurring dream of discovering a hidden door that opens upon a vast network of other rooms, that my apartment is in fact much larger than I realize. Sometimes it even has a swimming pool. Those are wonderful dreams, only to be undone by waking up and returning to my limited square footage. My only other recurring dream is of being nude in public, of being exposed for all to see, often, for some reason, at a grocery store. There I am, nude man, trying to pick the perfect peach. It is both natural and unnatural, and I seem to be the only one who cares about my lack of clothes. Everyone has had this dream. Sometimes I think the story of Adam and Eve is a direct response to this ancient anxiety, that the sin of man is not the desire for God-like knowledge but rather our secret, unknowable all-too-human shame.

Growing up, my brother had the good room, nice and big and with large windows that looked toward the apartment building across the street. I was envious of this room, four times my own space. I was also envious of my brother, with his natural way with friends and his uncomplicated masculinity, his ease with violence. Even as a boy he was a man. When he was fourteen and I was eleven, we discovered a row of windows on the tenth floor of that building across the street, in particular the bathroom window, where on many a night a woman would shower with the shades open. Being New Yorkers, we were already practiced Peeping Toms. My brother had a pair of field binoculars that lived on the sill, and we would spy on the neighbors, watch them eating dinner, watch them watching television, which seemed more thrilling than any episode of Fantasy Island. Some form of nudity was always the unspoken goal, but beyond the unfortunate old man on the twelfth floor that goal had never been realized. Till now. She was blond, probably in her late twenties, though our eyes were too young to properly determine any age between eighteen and sixty, and attractive, or at least attractive from this magnified yet still postage-stamp view. My brother hogged the binoculars, as older brothers do, and on the occasion when I had my brief turn I remember being struck by all that exposed skin, by the casual way she lathered her hair and body, by how the quotidian interacted with the majestic, as though Prell were Latin for grace, which reminds me of the Prell slogan from that era: I was flat until I went fluffy. Well, in that bedroom, ladies and gentlemen, I went fluffy. But it wasnt the fluffiness of my brother, with his bravado of pussy and tits and Boy, would I like to bang her. No, for me it was the glimpse of the private, the sense of being the author of this scene, as if without me this shower would sink into obscurity, the strange kind of power of being a voyeur, and, of course, the built-in guilt, the confirmation of my inner pervert. Seeing that woman naked was like opening a secret door and seeing myself naked.

When I was thirteen, I snuck into my parents room and slipped under their massive king-sized bed a tape recorder armed with a TDK-180 cassette, meaning that I could capture ninety minutes on a single side. I pushed record. I knew they were going to bed shortly, and I wanted to eavesdrop on the mystery of their pillow talk. My brother was away at boarding school, my sister at college; it was just me and them in that apartment. A year earlier, I had stood in front of my parents in all earnestness and told them that I wanted to be a writer. It was almost like a confession. I remember my father lowering the tumbler of Scotch from his lips, a Scotch I had lovingly poured for him, and telling me that I didnt know enough words to be writer. He was right. I was a sixth-grade dyslexic; words were not my forte, they were my downfall, and I could hardly read a paragraph without bursting into frustrated tears. But there was something about telling a story that I found liberating within the otherwise smothering universe of spelling and grammar. My mother, on the other hand, said, Thats great, dear. You will make a wonderful writer. Such imagination. My father rolled his eyes. He was always rolling his eyes, especially when I made my mother laugh, which was something I did often and easily. Jesus, Gail, youll laugh at anything he does, was his constant lament. I performed for my mother, while for my father I poured his evening drink or fetched another pack of Marlboro Reds from the stash in the drawer by the kitchen phone. To him, I was not a boy but a man in training. I have to say, I was always baffled by their relationship. My mother was so full of life, so friendly and accommodating, and my father was, well, not quite the opposite but rather a much tougher nut to crack.

They met the summer that Rear Window was releasedshe was fifteen and he was twenty-oneand they were married five years later. They rarely argued, but I never spotted much intimacy between them, and was curious about what they said from the solitude of their bed, which was the size of a small studio apartment and did not portend much physical contact. So cue the tape recorder and perhaps page Dr. Freud. I dont know what I expected to overhear. I wasnt looking for sex. No, no, no, no. Or I dont think so. Maybe I thought they would reveal some secret life they had together, remove their parental masks and expose the real Parker and the real Gail. I also think I half-expected them to talk about me, their wonderful youngest child, so clever, so handsome, no doubt a famous writer some day. I remember the next morning, sneaking back into their bedroom and grabbing the tape recorder and rushing into my bathroom, locking the door, the eternity of rewinding that tape, the fear of a snag, or, worse, a break, until finally the jolting click of all done. I almost anticipated the pigeons in the airshaft startling. Here were my parents, on my lap. I pushed play. After much silence, I heard them walk into the bedroom and go about the business of getting ready for bed. A sink runs. A toilet flushes. Curtains are drawn. There are a few coughs, which belong to my father and augur a future battle. Keys and loose change land in a dish. A sigh of settling under the sheets. Bedside lamps going dark. And then, only two words, spoken twice: Good night. And soon after that, some one-sided snoring. Thats all there was, and I still dont know what to make of it. Were they particularly exhausted that night, or simply not in the mood to talk? Was this routine or outlier? I listened to the good nights over and over again, trying to decipher something from the tone. Love. Anger. Affection. Bitterness. Indifference. Contempt. Comfort. But all I heard was the good and the night. Childhood is a kind of detective story, our parents the possible crime. We gather clues. We make assumptions. But often we come no closer to a solution. My mother and father have been married for fifty-five years, and they probably love each other now more than ever. And I never listened to that tape again. It seemed like something that was too powerful to be trifled with, like a planchette resting atop a Ouija board.

In my teens, I knew two fathers who jumped to their deaths from their apartment windows. Both men were in their fifties, and both of them removed all of their clothes before opening the window, staring down, and jumping. Im curious about that instinct: not so much the instinct to jump but the instinct to jump naked, to return to the womb at thirty-two feet per second. I remember being more shocked by that particular detail than by the act itself. Totally nude? Like, everything? It both made sense and made no sense at all, and I tried to imagine those dads, composing their notes and then calmly unbuttoning their shirts and heeling away their shoes. They wanted to be stripped bare, to expose their hidden, broken selves to the world. There was nothing to hide anymore. This is me. A brief moment of commune and control, the freedom to fall literally. The center might not hold, but it also doesnt spin. And I think of their crushed bodies with a kind of tenderness. Looking up from the sidewalk, I was always conscious of this stark deadfall. All these people, all these windows. It seemed to me something that should happen more often, and I had a particular fear of one of these poor souls landing on top of me and killing me, an inadvertent murder-suicide. I could almost feel them falling, could feel myself falling. Life in the crosshairs.

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My Rear Window

The family of a window washer who survived a fall from the top of an 11-story building in San Francisco's Financial District last month has blown away their fundraising goal and then some.

To date, the family of Pedro Perez has raised more than $73,000 to help offset their expenses following the accident. The fund was established Dec. 11 and more than 1,160 people have donated money to the family of the 58-year-old via the fundraising website GoFundMe.

Perez was working when he fell from the top of a building at the intersection of California and Montgomery streets on the morning of Nov. 21.

He landed on a moving car and was seriously injured. The driver of the car was not injured.

Perez suffered extensive brain trauma and internal hemorrhaging, as well as a fractured pelvis, broken arm, and a ruptured artery in his right arm.

Perez is now able to converse with others and is regaining his memory. However, he remains unable to work and it is unclear whether he will be able to walk again.

Perez's wife works at a factory in the East Bay and his 19-year-old daughter Monica Perez is taking time off from college to help support the family following the accident. His other two daughters are 11 and 16.

The family asked for donations from the public to help make ends meet, since Perez provided their main source of income.

According to the GoFundMe site, the goal was to raise the difference between one year of Pedro's wages and the workers' compensation payments for the year, about $20,000. The fund is already at $73,140, more than three times that goal.

Last week, Perez's daughter Monica responded to the outpouring of support and the flood of donations.

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Family of window washer who survived SF fall shatters fundraising goal

Electricity to Under counter water heater

Objective 2: inexpensive, reliable solution that doesn't require much space and is simple to wire, simple to program and handles job with no chance for error.

1) Buy plastic box with 3/4 Knockout. 2) Use 3/4" male adapter so all 3 wires enter box from same knock-out. 3) Attach timer with self-tapping screws. 4) Remove timer from box to connect terminal ends to timer 5) In this illustration, I trimmed the ground wires shorter and re-applied wire nut so all wires could fit into box before putting cover over box. 6) Attach box next to water heater. Make box accessible so times can be changed. Timer must be re-set to current time after power outage.

2) Read label on dishwasher: Typical dishwasher consumes 6-11 amp at max draw.

3) Label circuit breaker that connects to dishwasher. Check other loads (lights, TV, etc) that are connected to same breaker. Add up total wattage of all items on breaker. Divide wattage by 120Volt to find total amp draw on breaker. Add 6-11 amps drawn by dishwasher to find total load.

4) Can you safely add another 12.2 amp water heater to the circuit?

Electrical capacity calculation: 1) 15 amp breaker with 14 gauge wire is recommended at 80% rated load = 12 amp load. 2) 20 amp breakerwith 12 gauge wire is recommended at 80% rated load = 16 amp load.

3) Combined load for dishwasher and water heater is 18.5-22.3 Amps. If you have 15 amp breaker or 20 amp breaker, then d ishwasher and water heater should not be turned ON at same time.

2) NO NC terminals mean water heater and dishwasher can never be ON at same time.

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How to install point of use water heater - Water Heater Timers