THIS WILL MOVE YOU
at least
IT MOVED ME. Sort of.
First, Sam—I have to warn you that you might not want to read this, written as it has been by a woman who spent seven solid hours today (regardless of plantar’s Faciitis) taking every crumb of everything (including dust, of which there was approximately 8.37 tons) out of my bedroom because Les MIGHT show up tomorrow morning to start framing up—whatever it is we’ve finally decided to frame up.
It was: pick up six books (hard backs) and trudge down the hall to the guest bedroom, which is already full of treasures, all our clothes and shoes, the blinds from the downstairs windows, plus everything that was in there in the first place. Or into the middle room (M’s room, which used to be Chaz’, which used to be the boys’) which had in it one baby-sized leather full saddle resting on a camel saddle-stand actually from Egypt, three fake-but-very-funky tall pine trees, still wired for color, several empty plastic storage boxes (large), the crib, piles of books and genealogy, all the prints/mirrors/wall hangings from our room and the now defunct downstairs room – plus, I can’t remember what – oh, ALL the actually in use quilts, blankets—pendleton and other wovens—and stuffed animals (gifts to me from the kids).
3,428 trips up and down the hall. I was fine through about 2659; after that, I got tired. The dust was removed by means of the vacuum, which pretty much insured that Tucker stayed outside through the entire ordeal. Nothing like stripping rooms bare for showing you exactly HOW lousy a housekeeper you are. Every thing in there left its signature in dust.
Okay. So this is part three. And I am going to show you the amazing completely not-moving pictures of an event best expressed in movement:
#s Uno and Deux: to remind you (or acquaint you) of (with) the original (after 12 years of heavy wear) state of the New Room. From the west.
From the South. This was supposed to be a Family Room for a family (ours) without one. Up till then, we hadn’t really needed one because we all pretty much lived in each other’s laps. Then the kids went to HS and got lives and friends, which suggests a need for – SPACE. This was supposed to be space. But it turned out way smaller than I thought it was going to, and so ended up being used for, like, only two parties – one of which was after the Halloween dance and resulted in silver Tin Woodsman face paint all over one of the cushions of the couch. YAY.
One more shot of the inner bracing, because we’re almost ready to go here. See the hastily cobbled together heavy beam just under the windows? This was important because on the first pull, right after the room had been sawed off the house, the south side of the room had popped right off, just as it should. But the north side hadn’t budged. Which meant that the front wall assembly was pretty stressed. So we stopped, set up this bulwark, and we tried again. (Did you remember from the last installment that we are trying to pull this room forward 13 feet onto a new section of slab? A nifty alternative to tearing it down and rebuilding it in that same, distant location.)
Okay. All braced. Ready to go. Notice there is no slack in the belts here.
That’s because they are attached to this machine. This is a fake picture. Not really fake, but put into this position artificially. The belts are slack here, you see. This is just illustrative. But you can see the front foot of the monster, planted firmly in what used to be lawn and ground cover. Right beside what used to be daffodils.
Les says, “PULL!!!!!!” And Blake fires up the monster, gradually putting pressure on the room and —–
NOTHING HAPPENS.
WHY? Why is nothing happening?
I will tell you why. Because G had caulked the seam between the house and the room so well all those years ago, the caulk was NOT GOING TO SURRENDER. They took a crowbar to it. Tried again. But three feet of caulk still wouldn’t let go. So Less climbed up that ladder yonder with a large (very large – sledge in point of fact) hammer and whacked the side of the house a good one. At that moment, I was very much put in mind of horse training (“Get your hiney OVER there, you!!). And when he did that, and Blake pulled again, this is what happened:
About three feet in one second. “Whoa NELLIE,” we all cried with one urgent voice (we did NOT). The house had slid (slided?) so quickly, Less hadn’t been able to direct traffic and we were a HALF INCH OFF TO THE SIDE.
Blake stopped to back his monster up and reset those huge bracing feet. You may note here that I am not talking the pictures you are seeing. Instead, I am using C’s camera to catch the action, which I did very badly, not being able to tell when the camera was actually running and when it was not. (I actually taught C everything about video and film that he used to know. Now I’ve forgotten it, and he is the professional, and he will make sense of the footage and put it on YouTube. Eventually.)
Here is what Blake looked like in mid correction. I don’t know about you, but I find this picture terrifying. In real life, it was worse. But he didn’t seem worried in the least. (Which begs questions about his mental stability, too.)
Okay. Another tug. This time with a chain on the wayward part of the house so we can bring it back into line.
Here I am shooting Les, as he evidently is deciding to pull on the chain himself. I’m sure he could drag that room all alone. No hernia there.
Better angle on Hercules. Are you noticing that the slab is slowly disappearing? Go back and go through the pictures more quickly and it will be JUST LIKE A MOVIE!!!
From inside the room. “PULL, boys!! PULLL!!”
“THAT WAY.” At one point, Les actually turned to Blake and yelled, “I need an inch to that side!!”
Slab has almost disappeared.
This was shot just as Les finished measuring. Now he tells Blake, “I need another quarter inch!!” Blake yells back at Les, “Did you just really tell me you need me to pull that thing ANOTHER QUARTER INCH????”
But danged if he didn’t do just that. Look at that. On center. Stopped right at the edge. Blake may have been late that first week, but he has made up for it in usefulness since.
Blake’s delicate touch.
Blake, breathing easier now. Whew.
See the blue of this tarp? This is EXACTLY the same tarp in the same place you saw it before – except now it’s sitting there in the bright (cloudy) light of day – on the other side of it is MY DINING ROOM.
The old slab, exposed.
The disembodied room. Doesn’t it look like some movie set?
The watch dog.
A distant shot of the gap between the dwelling.
Yep. Weird.
“Looks like you lost a tooth, there,” somebody said.
But look what we found!
This, my dears, is ARCHEOLOGY.
Those are Piper’s prints. When he was a dog young and spry and on his way to obesity. He’s older now, but skinnier, bless him.
And that is the end of today’s installment. Drink milk, vote American, brush your teeth and never let the bed bugs bite!!
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