Tag Archives: tools

A little catch up… the baby barn, a sunrise and some deer.

 

Now that the Virginia vacation saga is finally over, it’s time to clear out the photo files.

If you remember… before we left for the Cape Cod vacation in November, the husband was desperately trying to finish the remodel on our baby barn from Hell before the snow started flying.

 

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He started putting the siding on….

 

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Which was a nightmare of non squared corners and uneven ground.

 

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Yeah, there was a lot of that.

His answer? Plant a shrub in front of it.

 

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He was still using his 1950’s power tools and probably wishing for a larger wheelbarrow.

 

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Siding around the window resulted in some very colorful language.

 

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As did turning the 3rd corner where things didn’t exactly line up.

Unfortunately that’s as far as he got before the weather turned….

And now I have to stare at this split personality horror show until spring.

 

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In other news, our neighbor and her daughter fed our deer while we were gone.

 

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She sent me this picture while we were in Williamsburg, and wanted me to know the child took her responsibility seriously.

And for that she was rewarded.

 

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Flowers for mom and a thank you deer for her daughter.

 

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That little guy cost me a fortune but he was hand made and too damned cute to resist. Look at those feet!

 

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It snowed right after we got back.

 

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But the white stuff sure does make a nice contrast for the sunrise.

 

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We were happy to see our resident buck was still around.

 

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He’s an impressive fellow….

 

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And clearly his women agree.

 

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He’s got quite a little harem going.

 

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With 4 fawns that we know of.

Funny thing is….. as much as I love to travel, it’s sights like these that always make me glad to be home again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 15… Small bathrooms and antique store Hell, where River reexamines how much she really loves her husband.

 

I woke up on our last full day of vacation in Williamsburg, Virginia  (Yes, we’re finally there!)  cursing our second resort’s small bathrooms.

 

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I mean… come on.

For a girl with big hair this is a very small space to make the magic happen.

And the shower?

 

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One teeny tiny shelf!

I had to put the rest of my things on the floor.

 

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We started the day at the husband’s favorite breakfast spot where he was now greeted with ”The guy who wants two plates of chipped beef on toast is here”.

 

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And seeing that we’d had 2 full weeks of doing everything I wanted to do, I thought it prudent to throw the husband a bone and let him pick our last day’s activities.

 

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As expected, that bit me in the ass.

 

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He chose the Williamsburg Antique Mall… and let me tell you, that’s a whole lotta mall.

I have never in my life seen so much  useless crap  stuff  in one place. It went on forever, aisle after aisle after aisle. The husband was in heaven.

 

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Oh, there were some interesting things.

 

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And some seriously hideous things.

 

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It was hard, but I managed to pass on this quartz rooster head.

 

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And the Christmas tree in a shoe.

 

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But damn, at the one hour mark we’d only managed to cover a little corner of the place.

 

 

The building was so huge it had push button call stations for help because it was too damned long a walk back to the front to find a sales clerk.

 

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Two hours in there was a drunken Santa….

 

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And some of the money the husband used during the Vietnam War.

 

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Three hours in there was a pair of wolves on skis…

 

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The ice cube trays I cursed with every breath as a child….

 

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And some questionable artwork complete with psychedelic chickens.

 

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Four hours in there were Civil War era hats and a saleslady who gave me a piece of paper to write down the aisle number, the booth number, the case number and a description of each article we had questions about because no one ever remembers what was where. If you look in the upper left hand corner of the picture you’ll see my hand clutching it.

And no, I wasn’t going to give it to the husband …. I’m not stupid.

The husband?

Happier than the proverbial pig in shit.

 

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Rusty tools….

Rusty tools everywhere!

 

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I passed on more vintage chickens.

 

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And wondered who this wide eyed Santa was going to poke with that…. that….

Whatever the heck that was.

At the four and a half hour mark I had to use the rest room.

 

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Where I did indeed flush my hopes and dreams of ever leaving this place down the toilet.

 

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There was definitely something for everyone.

 

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Even if some of the price tags made you gasp.

Five hours in I told the husband I was too hungry to continue and we needed to go get some lunch.

 

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Yeah.

My worst nightmare came true….

They had a cafe.

 

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Where we had tiny overpriced sandwiches and frozen solid fruit to fortify us for more hours of antique shopping.

 

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It was at this point I knew we’d never leave.

I was doomed.

 

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Too late for that warning…. the husband has had it for years.

 

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He was bound and determined to see every last item in this store or die trying.

And by this time I was happily planning his demise.

 

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Yikes.

Paging Morticia Addams….

 

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And holy crap.

Who in their right mind wants that hanging on their wall?

 

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Six hours in I found a bug collection….

 

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Some chicken humor…

 

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And part of the line to check out.

These people took a number…. and have probably been waiting since June 13, 1976.

 

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But the husband was still going strong.

 

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And if I told you how many rusty old pesticide sprayers we have in the barn already? You’d fear for my safety.

 

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Here’s proof positive there’s a magazine for everything.

 

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And a painting that contains fish bones.

You’re welcome.

 

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SEVEN HOURS  in and we weren’t even 2/3’s of the way through.

 

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I knew he wasn’t going to leave without buying something, but by then I’d reached my limit of  utterly useless crap  antique shopping.

I was on board with the old phone. It could have been fun in the barn…. when he builds that bar he keeps talking about.

You know, the bar he can’t build because he has too much utterly useless crap  stuff in the way.

 

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Eight hours in?

I was silently screaming FFS….just pick something and let’s go!

Or maybe I said it out loud, I can’t remember.

 

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So there it is, the result of 8 hours of antique mall shopping.

A giant glass water bottle to add to the other 20 or so giant glass water bottles he currently has collecting cobwebs.

 

 

I love him.

I do.

And as long as I keep telling myself that I’ll be fine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jamestown Re-creation…. the settlement, some rusty tools and a cocktail tease.

 

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The first settlement in America looked something like this.

 

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And I have to admit the buildings were larger than I thought they’d be.

 

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This was the church.

 

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And I swear it’s bigger than the one in my town today.

 

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I loved the thatched roofs on the cottages.

 

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And we enjoyed poking around inside them.

 

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Some of them were simple.

 

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Some a little more grand.

 

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Check out the armor on top of the cupboard.

 

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Nothing like some weaponry over the dining room table to get the gastric juices flowing.

 

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Speaking of that…. there was an armory.

 

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And it doesn’t matter how many times I see these, I still can’t imagine having to wear them into battle. I mean damn, they make my underwire bra look positively comfortable in comparison.

 

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Needless to say the husband was loving all the old tools and farm implements.

 

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Yes dear….

 

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Rusty metal…. I see it.

 

 

The last building we checked out was a communal kitchen.

 

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And you know what I found… right?

 

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Wandering at will….

 

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Hoping something would fall off the table.

 

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There were also fake cocktails, which is a rude tease to those of us who happened to be thirsty.

Hell, if these fell off the table they’d bounce.

And that’s not my type of cocktail at all.

 

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Okay.

Now we’re talkin’….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Museum oddities, death, Pocahantas, a scenic drive and some vultures.

 

I could bore you to tears with all we saw that day, but let this suffice..

 

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A portrait of an evil cherub who looks like she’s ready to stab Fido with an already bloody knife.

 

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But no.

 

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It’s just a 17th century pacifier. “Your mouth is sore sweetie? Here… suck on this metal and coral pointy thing.”

No wonder she looks pissed off.

 

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“Inveterate dysenterical fluxes”.

Doesn’t that sound like fun?

 

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The museum was filled with artifacts unearthed from the original site.

 

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And things thrown down the communal well.

Naturally, the husband was appalled at the waste of all those perfectly good rusty tools.

 

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The takeaway from most of the history we read?

We might romanticize the idea of the first settlers… opportunity, adventure, a brave new world etc., but in reality? It was starvation, illness and death.

 

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And Pocahantas…. of whom much is written and little is really known.

The only actual image drawn during her lifetime is this English portrait:

 

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A much later Anglicized version of her true self.

 

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Child trading. A fact of which I was heretofore unaware.

 

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So there you have it, historic Jamestown.

Where a t shirt we saw in the gift shop said it all…..

 

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Leaving Jamestown, we got back on the Colonial Parkway…..

 

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And saw some deer.

 

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Some swamps.

 

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And a whole bunch of these strange mounds.

 

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Too small and numerous for beaver.

 

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Any southerners care to weigh in on what constructs them?

 

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The Parkway slides along the James River….

 

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And was a lovely, peaceful, traffic free drive.

 

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Except for the black vultures.

 

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Which are neither lovely nor peaceful….

 

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And often cause their own traffic jams when they discover a fresh kill.

And no, I didn’t include a photo of the canine corpse.

 

Colonial Williamsburg…. the blacksmiths, a test drive, an oak, some cows and yes, food.

 

Although I hated to end our day, the time was drawing near and my phone battery was gasping it’s last breath.

 

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Naturally the husband had to see the blacksmith’s shop with all it’s rusty tools.

 

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And we were both surprised to learn that women worked there as well back in the day.

 

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So after test driving a wheel barrow…

 

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A few more natural wreaths…

 

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Some private homes…

 

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More wreaths…

 

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And a massive Live Oak that is supposed to have been here when George Washington walked these streets….

 

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We said goodbye to the cows we saw on the way in….

 

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And went back to the car where we had to charge my cell phone long enough for Trip Advisor to point us to our first dinner in Williamsburg.

 

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I love that app.

 

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And I loved this restaurant.

 

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Come on…. they had blue jellyfish lights over the bar.

How could you not?

 

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Cocktails? Check.

 

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Their Orange Crush was made with fresh squeezed OJ and was fabulous.

 

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Hushpuppies and cornbread let us know we were in the south.

And may I just say? I had no idea how much I missed hushpuppies until I started eating them again.

Yeeha!

 

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Dinner was tough to choose.

 

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Husband started with mussels.

 

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And moved on to perfectly pan seared sea scallops with garlic smashed red potatoes and green beans.

Me?

 

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Me?

I was in the south, baby! Bring me those low country shrimp and cheesy grits.

Lord have mercy….. they were the best thing I’ve eaten in months.

 

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Husband had room for a New York Style berry cheesecake….

And then we called it a day.

Day 1.

You realize that, right?

It took me 8 posts to get through Day 1 of our two week vacation.

 

 

Oh, don’t be so dramatic.

It’ll be fun!

 

The baby nightmare continues…

 

Baby barns.

Totally not worth the trouble.

 

 

 

When last we left our intrepid deconstructor, he had finished the back side of the main building and was moving around to the side.

 

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Please note that his loyal wife and help mate was not thrilled to see a large pile of dirt growing ever larger on her lawn.

 

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Problem #1 this past weekend?  The husband had so much  junk, crap, useless rusted nonsense   treasure stored in that section, he had no room to work.

Of course, he assured me it was all wonderful stuff.

 

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I assured him it was not.

 

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What? Why? How much….

 

 

I didn’t even want to know.

 

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Yes…. that’s a filthy old door with a mail slot that weighs roughly 5,000 pounds.

No… I have no idea why he has it.

 

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But if you need 2 rusted iron frames for your wooden wagon wheels?  He’s your man.

Although on second thought, he never parts with anything… ever. So I guess you’re out of luck.

You might have noticed this jewel in the previous photo…

 

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I think it’s an ancient torture device from the early 14th century.

I know it damn near broke my back dragging it across the lawn to the big barn where it will now gather more cobwebs.

It’s days like these that I have to keep telling myself…

 

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I really do.

Because otherwise? I’d kill him…

And I don’t think they’d let me blog from prison.

 

 

 

 

 

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….