Before the Snow Flies - Construction Column #3 August 2018

            The construction saga continues. The project is looking great, with lots of neighborhood gawker admiration, but man, I’m whooped.

            Wifey and the kiddos ditched me for New York to visit grandparents during July. While they were vacationing, I was left with 2 responsibilities: First, building our house. Second, being the sole source of companionship for Buddha, our cat. 

            At the first job, I’m doing pretty good, we’re under roof, out of framing and into the phase of the project where myriad subcontractors parade through our home drilling holes and listening to Vicente Fernandez, which I’m starting to really enjoy.

            At the second job, I’m kind of failing. When I’m actually in town, I’m swinging a hammer and lifting heavy objects from dawn until dusk and away from our trailer where Buddha lives. When I return, Buddha never leaves my side, especially at night, when I roll over and get a surprise face-full of cat.

            Fortunately for Buddha, our family returned in early August and hasn’t put her down since.

            The kids are pretty excited about the house too.

            “Wow, is this my room?” Michael asks as he runs around it in circles like a hamster.

            “Yes, it is…” I respond. “Do you like it?”

            “Yeah! Can I have a slide over here and a fireman’s pole and a…”

            “Hold on, Buddy. Let’s just start with drywall.”

            “I don’t need drywall. My walls are dry.”

            “Trust me on this one, Kiddo.”

            It’s been great to have my family back in town. I love taking Jane, my 7-year-old daughter, to the hardware store with me, where she helped load lumber, or having the kids help clean up the construction site, or just hangout around the campfire.

            “I think, more than I want to finish our new house, I just want out of this damn campground.” I tell Wifey over a drink one night.

            “Really?” 

            “Yeah, I’m totally trailered out.”

            “What do you mean ‘trailered out’? It’s fun here!”

            “You’ve been gone for a month. I’ve been enjoying nightly sessions of campground karaoke, traveling high school orchestras, and loud movie nights. I feel surrounded by ginormous RV palaces and nosy neighbors in extreme proximity. I’m done with this.” I gesture to the dog-washing station our most recent neighbor set up right next to us for her 5 miniature poodles. 

            “Valid point,” Wifey concedes.

            “I think we need to think about selling and getting out of here.”

            “What do you mean… you’re selling the trailer?” said Jane, devastated.

            “I just earned a free ice cream for hiding the golden horseshoe!” added Michael.

            Both kids burst into tears.

            “Guys, you knew we weren’t keeping the trailer. And aren’t you excited about our new home?”

            They nod and wipe away tears.

            Our kiddos aren’t the only ones jazzed about our expanding home.

            Neighbors and visiting tourists all do the slow roll by our project and sometimes stop to comment on the magnitude of the work, saying some version of, ‘that’s a lot of house.’

            Yeah, I guess it is.

            Walking around our new digs, it certainly feels bigger and more ambitious than it did when I was sketching lines on paper. 

            In all honesty, we are trying to get away with something here. We’re using my sweat equity and questionable carpentry skills as a way to get more house for less money. It’s really that simple. 

            I’m also calling on favors from friends that I’ve helped with their projects over the years. The subtext to my frequent Facebook and text message mayday calls is... “Hey Buddy, remember that fill in the blank project that I helped you with, well this weekend we’re building, fill in another blank...” And for the most part it has worked really well. We’ve even got parts of our house that we’ve named after those people that helped make them, “oh that’s David’s Arch” or “Monique’s Pantry,” which is kind of fun. 

            In addition to help from friends, we owe a big thank you to Riley Plumbing, Azul Electric, Bruner Building, and John M Edgar Construction; they’ve all been amazing. I’m also still blown away by how helpful and informative Meeks has been. Austin and Parry and Doug and Victor, and Jen and Jessica and Jimmie and Chris and Dave and everyone there that I’m forgetting. It’s impressive how knowledgeable and ready to lend a hand everyone is. It sure beats the Home Depot shopping carts, long lines, and inexperienced staff, like Wifey’s grandfather who during retirement worked for the Home Depot paint department, but was color blind. His favorite story was that people would ask him how a particular color or pairing looked and he would always say, ‘beautiful.’