.
Not quite.
.
.
But the first coat of red stain is on the big barn and it looks beautiful to me.
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.
I’m not sure the husband’s thrill factor is quite as high as mine… but he keeps saying “It looks different.” so I’ll take that as a win.
.
.
Different.
Well, yes.
That was the point!
And I think baby barn approves….
.
No, the husband hasn’t bought the contents of that abandoned Victorian up the road….
I mean this kind of red.
.
.
Weeee!
Our first glimpse of what poppa barn will look like when finished.
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The trim will be added after.
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And there’s a lot of it to add.
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But I’m excited to see him finally sporting some color.
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I think baby barn agrees.
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So now the husband wants to add floor moulding in his big barn… and you know what that means.
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An entire afternoon picking through more wood than I thought humanly possible.
.
.
Granted, even I would reject that baby.
But come on…..
If he would take half as much time installing it as he does picking it out I might not mind. But nothing is going to be perfectly cornered or angled or mitered so why bother!
.
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Our afternoon trip ended here.
.
.
With the moon rising and me refusing to cook the pork roast dinner I had planned.
You want perfect wood? You have to pay the piper.
Or in this case, the pizza place.
I saw an article the other day about all the amazing things people are doing with the spare time the pandemic shutdowns are providing them.
Some were worth while.
Others?
You decide.
Did Rufus McToofus need his very own adirondack chair to celebrate accordingly?
Probably not.
That’s so special it hurts.
Just…. wow.
What do you suppose those ducks are posting on social media? Can someone please investigate and report back. I’d hate for those ducks to have a more interesting blog than mine.
Finally….
A worthy use of time.
.
Bright and early Sunday morning the husband and his friend were hard at it.
Removing the stuffing they’d previously stuffed and drilling holes for the continuous feed wires to slip through.
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This, as you can imagine…. was a royal pain in the *ss.
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But finally, it was ready for a light fixture.
And my husband used the pool table as an auxiliary ladder.
.
.
Viola.
.
.
A light fixture.
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.
Which receives the husband’s very technical and OSHA approved tug test.
Just kidding, OSHA reps run screaming in horror from any project my husband oversees.
More stuffing, more plywood.
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Light fixture number two was not at all cooperative, and adjustments I don’t even want to contemplate were made.
This might be a good time to mention the time my husband installed a ceiling fan in our living room in North Carolina.
It took an electrician 2 hours to undo that mess.
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But after an hour of tinkering, and some oh so colorful language…
Fixture two was up.
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Were the proper amount of decorative screws used? They were not.
Was it in perfect alignment with the first light fixture? It was not.
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But since this simple job took them over 5 hours?
I doubt they cared.
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I’m so excited!
We had multiple contractors come over and give us estimates on our exterior barn project… (Staining, trimming, soffiting) and after I picked my jaw up off the ground and cursed the fact we didn’t have any children to sell… we chose a locally owned and operated company.
We’re on their schedule, but I don’t know when they’ll start.
I’m sorry, that was a cruel tease…. and a shameless attempt to lure aged disco fans to my blog. Please feel free to play Neutron Dance and curse me at your leisure.
Not trusting anyone else to pick out the trim boards, the husband dragged me to a lumber yard…
Where he closely examined and rejected dozens of 16 footers in the premium grade.
* Note to lumberyard workers – if you see my husband coming? Run. *
He refused so many, I swear the kid who was helping us starting sprouting grey hair.
After the first hour he delicately suggested we upgrade to the finish grade.
Which we did.
But…. silly boy, did he really think that would make a difference?
It shouldn’t surprise you to learn we were there the entire afternoon. And just when we were ready to leave?
The husband met a fellow Marine.
Another hour later… we left.
It’s amazing how exhausting it is standing around doing nothing. So much so, after we unloaded the truck…
Does that look like $450 worth of wood to you?
We fired up the grill….
And poured the adult beverages.
Dinner that night?
Lamb chops.
Life is good!
Ever since we installed the new deck railings we’ve needed to re-stain the deck. And by we, I mean me… because while he’ll constantly remark it needs to be done? The husband never does it. Not once in 18 years.
Problem is, we needed to buy a new pressure washer to clean the siding and I didn’t want to stain until that happened.
So I waited. And waited….. and waited some more.
( Never nagging. No. Not me.)
But after the husband saw the prices of a new Honda pressure washer?
I feel confident saying it’s not happening anytime soon.
So I moved things to the lawn, grabbed my brush and went to work.
Many holy hell why is it surface of the sun hot hours later…
I was done.
And pretty pleased with the results.
Dirty siding aside, it looks nice.
Clean, fresh and ready for the red squirrel family’s onslaught of poo.
Next morning fog shot just because.
Hope springs eternal, at least for my husband when it comes to trees.
The three oaks he transplanted a while ago croaked and had to be dug up.
So when we were in the middle of a drought and a heat wave?
He figured that would be a great time for us to plant 10 apple trees.
Holes were dug in ground that felt like cement.
And I had to run the bucket brigade again.
Because naturally he wanted to plant them at the far ends of our property.
But I did find some wild raspberries.
And blackberries.
It took us all damned day.
But trees were planted.
The heat was intense and I told him this was the wrong time of year to plant.
But you know how that went.
Will he water and fertilize and care for these new transplants in this mid summer heat wave?
Hell no.
Say goodbye trees, you’re doomed.
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.
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.
River's world..... 