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Well, the deck's coming along nicely, thank you.
My back is sore, my arms are sore . . . sucks getting older. Sucks being reminded you're getting older. I still attack a job like this as though I was 20. And in my mind, I still am. Until of course my body tells me otherwise. As it is this morning.
It's been more than 20 years since I worked in any sort of professional capacity as a carpenter. And during this particular project, I have Sonwun to remind me that I ain't the carpenter I once was . . . constantly.
"Okay, Sonwun, I don't want you hanging around her while I'm building. It's a little dangerous. So why don't you go back there and play in your sandbox."
"Okay."
Thirty seconds later, he's back.
"You missed the nail Daddy."
"I know Sonwun."
"You missed again Daddy."
"I know Sonwun."
"You sure hit the wood a lot Daddy."
"Back to the sandbox, NOW, Sonwun."
"Why is the nail all bendy, Daddy?"
"SANDBOX! NOW!"
Anyhoo, I got most of the frame done yesterday and hope to finish it up today, get it inspected tomorrow and put the decking in place on the weekend. I am really looking forward to coffee on the deck one of these days.
And, as I have a lot of work today, I'm gonna keep this short this morning.
Have yourselves a great Thursday. The weekend's on its way!
Well, I started building the deck yesterday.
And by that, I mean I started to find out whose permission I needed. And, as expected, City Hall wants its pound of flesh; actually two pounds. And why not? I pay a ridiculous amount of property tax on a 60-year-old house, a couple of "special levies" for garbage, recycling and, soon, water. Why shouldn't they collect a small chunk of change because I want to build a small deck?
I spent yesterday sketching and mapping out my plan and will take it to town hall this morning in order to obtain my Development Permit. Um . . . yeah. I'll let you know what develops.
Basically, this permit requires my sketching of my property, including the house, garage and proposed deck, showing measurements of the structure as well as its proximity to the neighbours' yards on two sides, and my garage on the other. I will swap this piece of paper, along with a $90 cheque, for the right to apply for a building permit.
To obtain a building permit, I'm told, I need to prepare and submit and sketch of my deck, showing the basic foundation and framing elements. In other words, the good folks at city hall want to be sure it won't fall over. Fair enough. And, in exchange for that bit of artwork, and a cheque for $60, I may construct my deck.
I should point out here that "Chris," the building inspector here in Thompson, was very friendly and helpful on the phone. He will be coming out to check on my progress once the frame is in place, but before I start on the decking. Again, fair enough. Don't mind paying one extra tax for this deck, but I think two is a little outrageous.
For the development permit, I will spend all of two minutes as the development officer looks over the plan, trusts my measurements, and rubber stamps the permit. Can't say I'm happy that it costs $90.
Anyhoo, that's what's happening here in paradise.
Have a great Wednesday!
So . . . -4 here this morning, forecast calling for two to four inches of snow. (Written Saturday - we got it all and more.)
Time to start thinking about backyard summer fun!
I look forward to the days when I can boot the boys out the back door and let them fight outside instead of in the living room. If I crack the kitchen window, just a little, I can filter out the standard whining noises ("Sontoo's looking at me!") and still leave enough room to hear any full-out screaming that might result from a broken bone or uncontrolled bleeding.
But there are a few things that need attention around the homestead. The three at the top of the priority list for this summer are:
1. New eaves troughs and fascia. The plastic troughs on the house right now are leaking at almost every joint. Why anyone would put those crappy things on a house is beyond me. But someone did and now I have to deal with it. Seamless troughs and aluminum fascia, all the way around, two storeys up. What fun! This will cost some money.
2. A deck out back. Someone put some nice patio doors off the dining room, but there's a three-foot drop from the doors to the lawn. The previous owners thoughtfully cobbled together a few crappy stairs to remedy the situation. They wobble a lot and, as the doors open out, you have to walk up them, open the door while backing back down the stairs and then walk back up and in. Kind of a pain. So I have to deal with that. And this will cost some money.
3. Some kind of play structure. And I'll admit I'm a little iffy on this one. Given the cost versus interest longevity ratio, it's still up in the air. The boys have a great sandbox, plenty of toys and nearby playgrounds (granted, the playgrounds are often covered in broken glass, graffiti and some drug paraphernalia). Do we really need to spend money on this?
(The rest written this morning)
Anyhoo, by a vote of one . . . Neomom . . . the deck has taken top spot on the list. I spent yesterday planning. Today I will take the plans to the local lumber yard for an estimate . . . just to know how much further in debt we will go. I also need to find out if a permit is necessary, how much that'll cost us and when I can get going.
I admit, it will be nice to work with my hands again. And, weather permitting, the boys can "help out" which will put us all outside, all day, at least for a little while. And hey, when it's done, if I fall off the roof while putting up the eaves troughs, I won't have as far to fall.
I'll try to get some pictures as I go, just for fun. But, before I do that, I need to buy another hard drive or two, as the one on my computer is pretty much full. Need to dump the 8,000+ pictures and videos on to a drive for storage. Oh, and this too will cost some money.
So, those are the summer plans. Wish us luck!
Okay, I'd been warned. Kiddies Northern Preschool is a Nut Aware Environment.
But, being the carefree, devil-may-care rebel that I am . . . I sent my son to school with Ritz cracker cheese sandwich snacky things. And you know, at the grocery store, when I bought them, I even checked to make sure they were the cheese variety and not the peanut butter ones. I try to be a good Nut Aware kinda guy.
But yesterday, when I picked up Sonwun from preschool, he announced that his cracker snacks were still in his Lightning McQueen lunch box. Oh, said I, didn't you like them?
"They have peanut butter in them," he said.
"What?????!!! Who told you that?"
"Teacher."
Well, was I embarrassed. Clearly I'd read the package wrong. Coulda sworn it said "Crackers with Real Cheese" on the front. No mention of the peanut butter.
So . . . we got home. I opened the lunch box. Taped to the offending snack food was a note, printed on Caution Orange paper.
"DUE TO LIFE THREATENING ALLERGIES WE CANNOT OPEN THIS SNACK AT PRESCHOOL THIS PRODUCT CONTAINS NUTS OR IS MADE IN A FACTORY THAT CONTAINS NUTS.
THANKS FOR YOUR COOPERATION
KIDDIES NORTHERN PRESCHOOL STAFF"
Yeah, it was in all capital letters. Kinda like they were yelling at me. At least they didn't write "Yo, butthead. Thanks for the ticking time bomb you thoughtlessly lobbed into the middle of a group of preschoolers. Nice move, you insensitive turd."
So, I took a closer look at the ol' time bomb from the good folks at Christie. I looked at the label: Yup. Crackers with Real Cheese. I looked at the substance between the crackers. Yup. Cheese. Orange in colour. I looked at the ingredients . . . no mention of peanuts, peanut butter or peanut oil.
And then, there it was, in tiny red print: "WARNING: MAY CONTAIN TRACE AMOUNTS OF PEANUTS."
Okay, fine, I screwed up. I sent my son to preschool with a snack that may contain trace amounts of peanuts. But, to be fair, I had no idea I'd committed this crime. And I simply do not have time at the grocery store to seek out the fine print on every product I buy.
I had no idea that this peanut allergy thing was so strict. I mean, seriously? Because peanuts are present at a factory, the snack is forbidden? Seems like we've gone a little overboard here.
I suspect that half the kids who show up at school on any given day "may contain trace amounts of peanuts." Toast and peanut butter for breakfast . . . unless a post-breakfast chemical decontamination is part of your daily routine, odds are pretty good your kid "may contain trace amounts of peanuts." I'll suggest slightly more than trace amounts on some of the less hygiene-inclined kids.
But, you know, even if I manage to get every trace of peanut butter off Sonwun before school, I can't escape the fact the HE was "made in a factory that contains peanuts."
Oh well, live and learn. I am now more nut aware.
Have a great Friday.
Couple of things going through my mind this Good Friday morning.
On top of the heap is a little bit of regret. I would love nothing more than to be planning a trip to one of my brothers' or sisters' homes for Easter dinner this weekend. And by that I mean I wish we lived closer together, and it was a regular thing. But it hits harder on the holidays.
The verbal abuse (in fun of course), the games, the jokes . . . the laughter. Maybe it's because we all live so far apart, but when we get together, it's always a party, a celebration and there is a lot of laughter. Yeah, today I really miss that.
And I guess this stuff came to mind this morning as I was making pancakes for the boys. It's their favourite.
Anyhoo, I turned on my iTunes as I was cooking and an ABBA song came up first. My sister loved ABBA when we were growing up. Which made me think of family.
I know, backwards segue there, so let's move on. To a worse segue.
The ABBA music also took me into a religious train of thought. (Hang on, it sorta makes sense.)
You see, I grew up in a Mennonite church, went to a Mennonite high school. And among the Mennonite traditions, if you will, was the belief that dancing was, well, evil.
(Standard joke: Why don't Mennonites have sex standing up? . . . . It leads to dancing. Ha ha ha)
So, how is this relevant? Well, when the music came on, both of my boys, at 2 and 4, immediately started dancing in their chairs as they waited for their pancakes.
"Let's dance!" said 2-year-old Sontoo from his high chair, wiggling his little bottom, waving his little hands and kicking his little feet under the table.
Ooooh, that's some evil stuff right there.
And I suppose this kind of thing is one of the myriad reasons I am not in church this Good Friday morning. I always thought the no-dancing rule (and several of the others) was a crock. But it wasn't until I had children that I realized just how big a crock it is.
Dancing, moving to music, is as natural as breathing. I didn't teach them to dance. Neomom didn't teach them to dance. They just hear music and they want to move to it. And they smile, angelically, ear to ear, when they do. If that is evil . . . I have learned in improper definition somewhere along the way.
Anyhoo, that and a few other things pretty much put me off organized religion ("the church" whatever that means to you) a few years back. And that's why I'm not there this morning.
But it's a gorgeous day, the sun is shining, I plan to get outside and enjoy it with my boys. Their bellies are full of pancakes and they're ready to dance.
I still wish, however, that they could be dancing and laughing with their uncles, aunts and cousins. Someday . . .
