Doing Time

We hosted another work camp last weekend.  My mother hung out on the back patio and stripped all the molding and base for a 1700 sf house.  I’m not sure if you know what this entails, but my guess is that if you did one you would probably sit back, look at the pile, and swear.  The woman is a machine.  But now I need to lightly sand it all, install it, putty the holes, and wipe it down with a few coats of Danish oil.  That’s my theoretical, highly tentative plan so far.

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Since my parents drove the truck over they were able to bring the bench for my long table that goes in the hearth room.  I am really excited to go from a house that had compact seating for 6, to one that will comfortably seat 16.  That’s all I ask.  Well, that and having all the outlets match.

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My brother was also conveniently in the area that weekend.  He is in the engineering department at the U of I and was in Pocatello for some kind of steel bridge competition.  You build a bridge and then smash it.  He came in third out of 13, so we were very pleased.  I asked him what he would have needed to do to come in second.  He said, “Um, not be finishing the bridge as we were loading it on the trailer.  Or practice putting it together more than once.  …Maybe read the directions first.”  But for being a last minute affair I thought they did rather well.  Plus, I was glad to have his mad skills at work on my door situation.  It was kind of a serious situation.  As in a no door situation.

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For the record, laminate flooring was really only meant to go in a house when it’s being built.  If you decide to put it in later, put in carpet instead.  It doesn’t travel in reverse, it doesn’t go through doors, and it despises closets.  Our solution was to have Reuben build heavy duty thresholds out of black walnut and thus cover a multitude of sins.

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The downside is that Reuben is a bit of a walking disaster.  You turn around for a second and he breaks out his sander in the living room.  Mother follows him around with a broom.  She says that he thinks women were created to clean up after him.  He has been used to a pretty significant wait staff for the last 26 years.  I suppose there is no hope for it now.

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Up close shot.  I didn’t even have to ask him to counter sink and plug the screw holes.  He just did what was right naturally.  Marc, on the other hand, walked in and said, “Wow, you even plugged the holes.  I was just going to leave the screws.”  Yeah, we know that’s exactly what you’d do.  That’s why you weren’t invited.

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While my dad was here he hung out in the sun and did some pruning.  I like how he’s standing on the top rung of a ladder with a saw and a platelet count of six.

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When Reuben finished the thresholds he started hanging doors.  He got through five of them.  Each one had to be planed to fit or in some other way modified.  I don’t know why I keep moving into houses where I need to replace every door, outlet, light fixture, door knob, and faucet.  It’s a baaad habit.  Meet my new mid-century door of awesomeness.

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Every morning these three were the first ones up.  They would all mash around in my bed for the best spot.  Which seemed to be on top of the baby.  And then we would all get out when Grandma Sandy said breakfast was ready.  🙂  That’s being spoiled.  We like it.

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After my family left we sorted the fall-out and Boy began getting ready for laying floor in the hearth room.  Are you on the edge of your seats?  The moment we’ve all been waiting for.

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From this direction you can see the reed glass door Reuben hung that replaced the filthy dirty six-panel door.  I think it made the biggest difference in the feel of the room.  I just want the trim and lights and floor to go in as well, I can hardly stand it.

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Next on my personal to do list is patching and painting the kitchen ceiling, priming and painting 6 doors, installing and painting the vent covers, and unpacking the kitchen.  But I’ll probably only get around to picking the spaghetti noodles off the dining room floor.  And that only in time for them to put new macaroni ones down.  It’s a vicious cycle.

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