Tag Archives: building

We have a bar!

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An honest to goodness, sturdy and well built, fully stained and polyurethaned, ready to dance on (or fall under) bar!

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It was a long time coming but we’re pleased with the result.

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The wood grain is lovely, the top is smooth and shiny.

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And once the custom ordered chairs and shelves are ready, it will be time to get down to business.

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The business of mixing my first Barn Mahal cocktail.

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A barn bar boo boo.

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Our contractor has an uncanny knack for showing up when we’re not home or sneaking in when we’re not looking.

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Like the other day when we walked into the barn and found he’d laid the top of the bar on the base…

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And dropped off the stained pieces for the facing.

This end looked good…

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The other end?

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Not so much.

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It seemed the corners didn’t quite fit together as planned.

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So glue and clamps were deployed.

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He called us later that day and told us not to worry, all would be well.

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I’m trusting he knows what’s he’s talking about. And actually, by neon bar light?

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It didn’t look half bad.

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A bar is born!

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We came home from the grocery store yesterday and found this:

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The contractor had been at work in the barn and started the bar!

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My husband was thrilled… but had to check the measurements to be sure.

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Can you picture me standing back there mixing margaritas?

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I’ve been battling for a nicely stained finish but the husband is trying to cheap out and go natural. I fear neither of us will be fully satisfied… but at least we’ll have someplace sturdy to belly up to soon.

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On second thought, don’t. Some things are simply too frightening to contemplate.

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A bar and a tree.

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Next week a contractor will be here to build a bar in our barn.

Yes, you read that correctly, a contractor… one we will pay. Actual money. That surprised me since the husband has does most of the Barn Mahal construction himself, but this guy also built the bar at our local pub… so instead of having a spouse made amateur facsimile, we’ll have a serious bar.

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With these giant extremely heavy boards the husband has kept from the original framing back in 2012.

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The boards that have been moved, shifted, relocated, bumped into and cursed for 8 long years…. so all I can say is, yay.

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Of course the other day we had to move them one last time.

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Because my other half wanted to get an idea what the future boozer would look like.

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And yes, that’s a driftwood Christmas tree on the right.

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My girlfriend made it, used it one year, then gave it to me for our porch. Unfortunately we experience a cross breeze from our neighbor’s field equivalent to the Ames research center wind tunnel NASA uses to test its rockets. That tree literally flew. Which is generally not what you want Christmas decorations to do.

So it’s been inside the barn for a few years and despite my pleading that it would be a nice addition to the bar room, husband wants it gone.

Tons of useless rusty crap? He’ll find the room. One unique and quirky decorative tree? Bye bye.

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Back in the barn.

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The husband was back at it this past weekend.

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Finishing up the (not so) temporary (not so) easy access heat blocker to the upstairs.

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By the time I walked in he had the insulation board attached to the zip siding board …

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Had rigged up small pieces of insulation board on the top step..

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And was busy stuffing Roxul in the small holes.

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And the even smaller small holes.

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Our old doe was munching under the apple trees…

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And Mike Pence was still where no one wanted him to be.

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So much stuffing.

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Please remember… when this barn was built it was not meant to be an airtight and heated space, so there’s a lot of scrambling required to make it one now.

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So when all else fails?

Caulk.

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And then, for the man who didn’t want to use insulation board?

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Another piece of insulation board.

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So yes, there’s insulation board, on top of insulation board, on top of zip siding.

I dare the hot air to seep through that!

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When that was finished and blocked off, it was time to tackle weatherstripping the porch door.

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You know, the free one he brought home from the dump. The one without a frame or threshold. The non standard size nightmare that has gaps all the way around it and at least a two inch above the floor clearance.

Good times.

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Truer words have ne’er been spoke.

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I’m ready to cry Uncle.

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First it was not at all temporary temporary doors. Then insulation and a ceiling and new light fixtures and floor moulding and quarter round.

Now?

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The husband is installing strapping to cover the plywood ceiling seams.

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Technically this is finish work. And we all know that is not where his talents lie.

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Was the strapping straight?

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Not so much.

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Of course when I helpfully pointed that out, I got booted from the barn/man cave/Maine Taj Mahal.

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When I went back 2 hours later? He informed me the strapping wasn’t right and needed to be redone.

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Hmm. Why didn’t I think of that?

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Cutting and more cutting.

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Cutting around the light fixtures I tried to tell him to center 2 weeks ago.

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But all the cutting resulted in straighter lines.

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Aggravating? No doubt.

But…

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We did have gorgeous fall foliage in the background so I’ll call it a win.

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Moulding obstacle course.

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Next up on the big barn beautification series?

Floor moulding.

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Which, ironically was cut on the floor… because there was too much crap on the tables.

But parts of it were looking good.

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Other parts were… questionable.

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And when it came time to move the 2 ton safe?

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No one was happy.

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I looked for the owner of that scythe. But he wears black, and could have been hiding anywhere….

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When moulding had to be installed here… under the pile of extremely heavy boards?

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It was like a ballet.

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And because it’s a building designed and constructed by my husband?

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The east wall turned out to be slightly longer than the west. 36 feet…. and one inch. Not what you want to find when you’re running the last piece of trim.

And then there was wood.

But you probably guessed that from the first picture.

 

More specifically it was 16 foot long boards that weighed a ton and had to be dragged out of the big barn and across the lawn with yours truly trying my best not to drop them on her toes.

 

 

Of course it would have been too easy if they’d fit in the 16 foot long spaces. Where’s the fun in that? No… each one had to be measured and cut around the wonky interior frame.

 

 

After tar paper was laid out.

Why tar paper? Because the husband wanted a moisture barrier… but more importantly, because he already had two ancient rolls buried in the garage.

 

 

What was holding down the tar paper as we attempted to fit the boards you ask?

Absolutely nothing.

Good times.

 

 

Was it hot?

A mere 92 degrees in the shade.

 

 

Vintage tools and make shift tables?

Check.

 

 

Did he have enough boards?

Not really.

 

 

Were they all the same width?

Of course not.

 

 

Did he care?

I seriously doubt it.

 

I thought we were done!

 

The baby barn.

It really is the gift that keeps on giving. Like venereal disease, but with splinters.

As you know, the baby barn had a hard packed dirt floor when we remodeled it. It had a hard packed dirt floor when we moved here 18 years ago and it had a hard packed dirt floor when it was originally built sometime in the mid 1970’s …

 

 

And for some inexplicable reason, the husband removed some of that hard packed dirt when he was redoing the frame.

 

 

So for the last few months there’s been a decided drop off at the far end.

 

 

I’ve said repeatedly he needed to back fill that section and level it off, but no.

 

 

I walked out there the other day and found him busy with a shovel instead.

 

 

Removing 26 years worth of hard packed dirt.

 

 

Why?

I’ll let him tell you…

 

 

Good grief Charlie Brown!

The man is a sucker for punishment.

 

 

22 wheelbarrow loads full of dirt dumped on the outer edges of our property line later….

 

 

He had a smooth playing field…. and an aching back.

And I was called in to assist.

 

I needed a holiday from the holiday.

 

Our last day of the long Memorial Day weekend meant a morning of yard work.

 

 

Tag team mowing with the husband on his new toy and me slogging along with the old push mower.

It was a gorgeous day.

 

 

The pear tree was blooming.

 

 

The mallows I’d planted were thriving.

 

 

And everything had finally turned green.

 

 

Except the baby barn which I decided to start painting that afternoon.

Let me preface this by saying I used to love to paint.

I used to.

Until I had to use an artist’s tiny brush around all the nooks, corners, flashing and crooked angles on that beast.

 

 

 

Did I wear some paint, get covered in dirt, rip my pants, tumble off a ladder and work until almost 8:00 at night?

Yes I did.

 

 

But paint was applied.

 

 

And covered a multitude of sins.

 

 

Three sides done, one to go!