Tag Archives: barn

Oh, good grief.

 

Try as I might to avoid it, sometimes I have to go upstairs in our barn.

This usually forces me to emit a heavy sigh over the husband’s new acquisitions.

You know,  the ones he snuck in there without me noticing.

 

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While I was pleasantly surprised to see he’d done a little organizing (read – shoved everything to the sides) and the floor was visible this time….

 

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And also delighted to see a small section of crap had been put on a shelf.

A shelf!

 

 

(What? You don’t collect dusty old water stained cardboard boxes half full of rusty rivets and tacks…

Why ever not?)

A groan did escape me when I saw more bed frames….

 

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And old rusty pesticide sprayers…

 

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As well as whatever the hell this is in front of the vintage cabbage slicers.

 

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I’m thinking I should make him use that in the baby barn to level out the dirt floor.

You know, as penance for bringing the damn thing home in the first place.

 

 

I  wish I knew.

And if you’re thinking to yourself, geesh River, that didn’t look so bad…. let me point your eye downstairs where it looks like this:

 

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And this:

 

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And this:

 

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Enough said.

 

 

A visitor and a test drive.

 

As the husband was laying tar paper on the roof of the baby barn the other day, our farming neighbor dropped by to say hello on one of his toys.

 

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Clearly my husband is not the only one who likes old and rusty things.

 

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I have to laugh at how comfortable the husband looked up on the roof.

Give him a beer and a snack and he could happily watch the game from there.

 

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Neighbor’s 2 year old son is a cutie and loves going for a ride with dad.

That being said…

 

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You know husband had to take a ride himself.

 

 

 

And I can only hope our neighbor never wants to sell the damn thing…

 

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Because you know where it would probably end up.

 

More baby annoyances.

 

This week the baby barn saga is a two-fer…. lucky you!  I spent far too much time on the husband’s rusty crap  stuff yesterday, so today?

Deconstruction.

 

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Old shingles had to come off first and that was a nightmare. They’re over 40 years old and brittle as hell. Pieces and parts at best, and it seemed like every nail he tried to pull was bent.

 

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                                             *inserts required ‘porn for women’ shot here*

Sweep, baby… sweep!

 

 

Walls were coming off left and right….

 

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And we seemed to be making progress.

 

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How’s that for an action shot?

Mid air plywood!

 

 

More sweeping…

 

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A little rotted wood.

 

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(It was only holding up the roof, and my husband… no worries.)

 

 

And a room with a view later…

 

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The rain that wasn’t supposed to start until after midnight was threatening and we had to scramble to waterproof.

 

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This meant a patchwork of zip siding with a corner that wasn’t exactly … how shall we say?

 

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Squared.

Followed by my favorite part.

 

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Rolling out and tacking down tar paper in 30 mph wind.

 

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Please note I’m risking life and limb giving you roof top photos.

You can call me crazy, but you can’t say I don’t go the extra mile for my readers.

 

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So this is where we left it… weird, but water tight.

One dry days work, and a full half a day covering it up for the next rain storm. Had we started this stupid project in September…. when we were begging for moisture, instead of October… where it rains very other day, I dare say we’d be further along by now.

Babies can be annoying.

 

Let’s face it, there’s going to be a weekly baby barn update for the duration of the deconstruction/construction.

Which, at this point…. I figure will end sometime between  Jesus, isn’t it done yet?  and   If I have to pry one more splinter out of my hand, I’ll shoot myself in the head and call it good.

Walls.

 

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If you’re an immigrant during this administration? Not Good.

 

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If you’re a rotting baby barn circa 1974?  Very good.

 

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Here’s a pic of the husband using his vintage (what feels like 50lb) saw.

You’ll notice he’s hunched over and applying pressure. That’s because the damn thing shimmies like a tilt a whirl on crack and might fly apart if you don’t.

 

 

Walls.

 

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They’re a good thing. But sometimes…

 

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You see where I’m going with this?

 

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From the outside all looks well.

 

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From the inside, things went a little squirrelly on the right.

Crooked?

 

little bit

 

Do we care?

We do not.

 

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Do we wait for the wife to bring the dust pan during clean up?

 

 

So, another weekend done.

Another section framed and ready for siding.

 

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Did I mention that the husband’s plan of starting at the halfway point on the front and working his way around makes it look a bit odd?

 

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Rather like a schizophrenic.

Perhaps I shall name her Sybil….

This is not what you want to find when rebuilding….

 

Our old baby barn/shed has a dirt floor with heavy duty rubber mats on top. Due to numerous woodchuck holes and tunnels, we had to drag all the mats out. That sounded easy enough until I realized each one of them weighed the equivalent of an African elephant…

 

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Seriously.

A pregnant, morbidly obese African elephant carrying a suitcase I packed for an overnight trip.

 

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Did I mention they were all covered in pounds of dirt as well?

 

 

So as we’re moving the next to last mat…..

 

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This.

 

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A chipmunk burrow with tiny scraps of paper, plastic and leaves.

Upon further examination…

 

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A maze of tunnels, which I thought was pretty cool, until… it moved.

 

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Do you see the leg?

 

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Yeah.

 

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Not a tunnel.

A nursery…

 

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Which means we had to find the other end of the tunnel and relocate them. Not an easy task.

Five minutes after we found them?

Momma found us.

 

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And she wasn’t happy.

She ran around squawking and chirping and looking for her babies.

 

 

After a while I think she found them, because she stopped searching and started stuffing.

Stuffing her little cheek pouches full of all those little scraps of paper….

 

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And scurrying back for more.

Within minutes she’d cleaned up the whole lot.

Watch her cram a dried leaf that’s almost bigger than she is below.

(And please pardon my husband’s cursing. Things were not going well with the rebuild at this point…)

 

 

After we wasted time relocating chipmunks, we realized we had to relocate a bird’s nest as well.

 

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So many evictions.

I felt like an evil slumlord.

 

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Back to work…. and things did not go well.

Which was completely the husband’s fault.

 

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He had the crazy idea he could square the building properly  (After 40 plus years of Maine frost heaves? Madness!)  and changed the original footprint….. which in turn threw everything off kilter.

More good times.

 

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Did I mention he uses tools from the 1950’s picked up at a yard sale or the dump?

This little jewel feels like it weighs 50 lbs.

 

But he has the original box… and vintage lube.

So it’s special.

 

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P.S.  For those of you who pay attention, this post is actually out of sequence. That back wall is gone now. Apparently my blog scheduling has run amok.

 

 

 

And so it goes….

 

Work on the baby barn continues, albeit slowly.

 

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My husband’s master plan involves a serious amount of temporary screwing, refitting, removing and replacing. He’s not a huge fan of measuring… but he’s a man.

This is not surprising.

 

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Of course this means 3 times as much work.

 

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I think one planned demolition and rebuild would suffice…. but I’m a woman.

What do I know?

 

 

There’s also a good deal of shifting the husband’s  crap we don’t need now, nor will we ever need again   stuff from one place to another. Like the hurricane generator we bought in 1992 when we lived down south and haven’t used since.

 

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Or the wheel weights for the tractor we no longer own.

 

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Or the numerous tires for the cars we no longer own.

 

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Or the table that went with the chairs we no longer own….

 

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Right beside the small refrigerator I had no earthly idea we owned.

All of these things are heavy and filthy and must be moved over and over again because he can’t be convinced to throw them out.

Good times.

 

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There was hammering.

 

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And crowbar-ing …. and yes. A good deal of cursing because the structure is 45 years old and not exactly plumb.

There was also a good deal of displaced dirt.

 

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Thanks to numerous woodchuck tunnels…

 

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Which undermined our attempt to simply re-side and re-shingle the damned thing.

 

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Now we have to completely dig up the hard packed floor and smooth it all out.

 

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Doesn’t that sound like fun?

 

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Things I don’t like today… Part 3

 

I don’t like….

Weed wacking around one of our stone walls and having a frog jump out in front of me.

I swear I didn’t see him…

 

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And literally cut him in half.

*Gulp*

 

I don’t like…..

Sitting at a bar and having a creepy disembodied head on a stick tied to a doll stare at me all night.

 

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Like I need another reason to drink?

Ack!

 

I don’t like….

Being disappointed.

Remember when I posted about the miracle of my husband cleaning out the garage, and how the old sink he brought home from the dump was gone?

 

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Yeah. I found it in the barn.

Very disappointing.

And finally,

 

I don’t like….

Pressure.

 

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Since my husband can’t decide when he’s going to retire, he’s forbidden any travel this year so he can sell back his leave.

Doesn’t he realize I’m duty bound to blog our adventures?

Damn it…

Now someone will beat to me to it!