Half Baked

"My head is stuck in the clouds

She begs me to come down

Says "Boy quit foolin' around"

I told her "I love the view from up here

Warm sun and wind in my ear

We'll watch the world from above

As it turns to the rhythm of love"

Recognize that? It's the lyrics from the Plain White T's Rhythm of Love. It reminds me of the Big Guy and myself. He is the eternal dreamer, and I, the realist. He dreams our dreams and makes them come true. I keep his feet on the ground.  We've been dancing that dance for 21 years.

And so goes the rebuilding of our house. He sees an almost rebuilt house. A place that will be move-in ready very, very soon. I, see a construction zone...a disaster area...a place we can't possibly live in by the end of July. So, he dreams the dream and works to make it come true and I say "boy, quit foolin' around." I keep his feet on the ground and plan for the what-ifs. Like, what if we don't have walls by the end of next month?

Quite a pair we are. 

He is still meeting with subcontractors and battling with the insurance company and picking up and delivering supplies to the work site that is our home. I am planning and organizing, packing and labeling, making lists and checking them off as we purchase the makings of a home. 

Part of the problem is that his brain thinks in building mode so he sees progress. My brain thinks in living mode so I see a disaster. He sees a house being built really well and fairly efficiently. I see a house we can't live in yet. 

For example...

Kitchen 

He sees windows and a door and a deck. I see plywood.

Back yard...sort of.  

He sees a patio, a deck attached to that pier in the bottom left corner, and a fire pit. I see plywood, other wood, and nails. Lots and lots of nails. That point UP.

Let me just take a second here to talk about the flippin' nails. Nails are sharp. If you leave wood laying around with nails sticking UP, you could put a nail through your foot. The moral of this little story...watch where you walk around wood with nails sticking up everywhere. Yes? 

No. No, apparently not. It seems at least once a week someone steps on a nail. I'm going to take a dishpan and some Epsom salt over there and label it Nail Remedy. I have threatened to leave a first aid kit there but the guys assure me they are just fine with duct tape and rags. We've had one nail in the scalp incident and they handled that adequately (and by adequately, I do not mean to imply it was in any way sanitary) with their rags and duct tape. The nail through the foot thing bothers me though. I firmly believe that when one has a nail through their foot they should be required to soak said foot in salted water and see a doctor. And one should not argue with the big lady that owns the house. And that's all I'm going to say about that. For today. 

Anyway...as I was saying...

Under the back room. Gosh, we need a better name for that area. 

He sees fascia boards, soffits, and new doors. I see more wood.

I really don't mean to be pessimistic. It's just...well, it's just, we're coming up on 9 months now, and I still see bare wood everywhere I look. True, there are shiny, blingy things there now too like ventilation ducts and plumbing, but mostly there is a lot of wood. A whole lot of wood. 

Master bedroom, and one of our fabulous framers.  

This wall is the exterior wall of the master bedroom. It was the wall farthest from the actual fire. Nothing in this room burned. Nothing anywhere near this room burned. But it baked. The heat was so intense that the 2X4 studs splintered. The sap ran out and baked into a powder. Each stud had to be sistered. (There is something very funny about that phrase by the way.) Each stud is now supported by a new stud to add integrity to the structure. Translation: there is now more new wood in this house than old wood.

My lack of photography skills combined with  the lack of lighting in the house create a very poor illustration, but the new wood is easily discernible from the old wood because all of the old wood was sealed with shellac, or secretions of the female lac bug. (Also very funny.) (Or maybe it's just me.) (Maybe I'm just slap-happy from not sleeping in a decent bed for NINE months.) The wood treated with shellac is white. There is very little of it in comparison to the amount of new wood. 

I find it very odd to say "our house caught on fire." The phrase 'caught on fire' just doesn't explain it. 'Burned down' would seem more appropriate, but it didn't. It was technically still standing. We've discovered there is an in-between type of  fire description- 'baked'. Our house baked. The kitchen essentially burned down. The family room and dining room caught fire. The rest of the house baked. And melted. 

And so...to summarize this all-over-the-map where-was-she-going-with-this blog post...he is a dreamer and a builder, I am struggling with a harsh reality on a practical level, our crew doesn't know where not to place their feet, our house is nothing but a sea of wood right now, and I'm slap-happy. 

Yup...that pretty much sums it up for now.