The Concrete Pour of 2010…well, one of the many.

I described my lovely Memorial Day a few days ago. You may know that I have spent most of my week basking in the sun–lakeside while being served dainty drinks and fed luscious morsels.

And when I say ‘lakeside’, I mean in my neighbor’s front yard.
And the ‘dainty drinks’ were more of hurried gulps out of the cooler that leaks water all down your front.
And the ‘luscious morsels’ were protein bars. But they were s’more’s flavored, so I guess that’s pretty close….
At any rate, we were ready to pour the sucker you see above.
And this was pretty close to a day at the lake.
(See how we got to this point over Memorial Day.)

The concrete truck arrived at 8am sharp, ready to unleash its mix.

Biceps was in charge of the wheel barrow and I was in charge of raking the concrete once it had been poured into the form.
Three words: Impromptu Shoulder Workout.

This my dears, was just the beginning.
Lots of raking, sloshing of concrete onto my skin, falling into the dirt hole around the forms, etc., was happening for an undocumented couple of hours. It was better left undocumented.

The pour is now complete-now on to the finishing!
After banging the sides of the forms with a hammer to remove the air bubbles, we lightly troweled the top to bring up the cream (the smooth watery part of concrete). Then we had a soda and let the steps set up while whining about our sore muscles. Superb marital bonding time.

This little edging tool was the next step. We went around the perimeter of the forms with the edger, bringing a nice sharp line to our steps.

More troweling, then edging, then troweling, then edging….You get the idea.
(That’s Bicep’s hairy forearm, not mine, mind you.)

After we were satisfied with our edging and troweling, the moment of truth came as we removed the forms.
Drumroll, please.
Will the steps mush out everywhere and become a soupy mess?
Or are they going to be rock hard and unable to be finished?
Are you as nervous as I was at this moment?
Doubt it.

No soupy mess! And not rock hard! Just perfect.
We filled all of the holes with our excess concrete, troweling everything until it was smooth like glass…and somewhere during this process, both of my arms fell off.
I had to do the rest of the work using a trowel held in my teeth.

Finally, we ‘broom-finished’ the steps and the platform to prevent people from slipping on the concrete when it rained. Aren’t we considerate?

And TAH-DAH! Aren’t these steps exciting?
Can’t you just picture yourself running up and down them, time after time?
Yelling at people from the top step while they are on the bottom step?
Or sitting on the steps enjoying another soda during a dream sequence?
Yep, me too.

The Garden

I’ve told you that Biceps and I have been building a Big Girl Playhouse for some close friends.
What I haven’t told you is that they have a drop dead gorgeous garden-worthy of being featured in Home and Garden magazine.

This little beauty soothed my aching spirit during the awful-four-foot-hole digging process.

Each time that I hit myself with a hammer or accidentally drill through my flesh (which is often), I sit here and regroup and think of quieter times.

I bring my mind to a peaceful place, listening to the trickle of water and the swaying of branches. I obtain inner harmony…..
That is until I hit myself with a hammer again.

And when that happens, I come back again and sit a moment longer, watching the Koi and tiny frogs doing their thing.
They have no idea a gigantic shed is being built just a few feet away. I try to tell them all about it and how many bruises I’ve encountered. I am pretty sure they sympathize with me.

As a ‘job-site’ goes, this one is pretty top notch. With each new flesh wound, I remind myself that this view is a lot better than a gray cubicle lit by fluorescent bulbs. Although sometimes I do daydream about a cubicle far, far away from saws and sledgehammers and splinters.
Until Biceps snaps me back to attention, requesting help with hoisting up the next rafter. I force myself to leave my zen in the garden, grab my tool belt and head back.
A Big Girl Playhouse doesn’t build itself, you know.

The Big Girl Playhouse

There’s this crazy couple that we know that wanted a bigger storage shed.
Husband of said couple requested something large enough so that he wouldn’t hit his head on it.
He also had a budget.
Wife of said couple wanted a dreamy, glass-encased, whimsical, outdoor, greenhouse-inspired ‘space’.
She had no budget.

The planning process was an interesting one.
I was just excited after many meetings and dinners with said couple, to finally put our design into action.

After clearing the land, we used a torture device called an ‘Auger’ to dig (8) four foot deep holes for our support posts.
I hated the Auger by the end of the day. I even kicked it once. Then I drug it behind my van to teach it a lesson all the way back to the rental place. Alright, so really I towed it back to the rental place. But don’t think I didn’t dream about dragging it back. ‘Cuz I did.
We leveled, and measured and leveled some more, before setting the gigantic 12’ posts into the earth and backfilling them with earth.
I was very bruised and tired by this point.

We attached pressure treated stringers around the top and bottom of the structure, cinching in all the free-flowing posts. I kept telling the posts to ‘Get in line!’, but they didn’t listen for the most part. Stubborn posts. We added 8’ header/beams across the top. These were also 4×6 pressure treated posts.

Attaching the last beam to the top stringer was our goal today for quittin’ time.

I was thinking about last night’s leftovers waiting for me in the fridge as soon as I got home.
And a nice shower.
And maybe a glass of wine.
And Cowboy.

And although I felt victorious about meeting our goal today, I think I was more excited about going home to my leftovers and a glass of wine.
Leftovers…yum.
Next step: rafters and raisin’ the roof. Woot woot.

Men Make Such a Difference

My Father was the man that told me stories every night, held me when I cried, and who could barely spank me when I was naughty. (Which was often).

He taught me that a man worth having…was a man worth waiting for.

He took us kids on bike rides, crafted stilts out of leftover wood and created ‘treasure hunts’ for our birthdays.

He’ll still be silly with us and has never embarrassed by us.

He is reliable, consistent, honest…

…and a little weird.
Mom says that’s where I get it from.

He is the best earthly example I have seen of what my Heavenly Father must be like.
Except I picture God with flowing hair. My Dad has never had flowing hair. I believe he came out of the womb with his current hairdo.
Anywho, thank you Daddy, for showing me what it means to live a godly and moral life.
I love you more than you’ll ever know. Happy Father’s Day!