Romance

Home Building Horrors, Hope and Happiness

We’re building a new house. People warned us. They said it would ruin our marriage, cost more than the builder’s original estimate, and take much longer than expected. Well, they were mostly right. I’m happy to say our relationship remains intact!

But the whole process has been an eye-opener. We’re now five months into it but nowhere near as far along as we’d hoped. Why the delays? Well, first there was the rain. We had the rainiest summer in years.

Once the foundation trench was dug, it promptly filled with water. We called it “The Moat.” Geese would land and frolic in the Lollar wetlands. And once my hard working husband bailed gallons of water, it would rain and fill the trench right up again. He must have bailed water on at least 5-10 occasions along with putting a pump into action.

Once the rain abated, there was the matter of setting the drainage pipes around the foundation. But the contractor we had didn’t believe in quality work. When we tried to encourage him to up his game, he got porky and quit.

So my hard working hubby took the reins and tackled the job himself. He worked every day and into the night. There were a few times he was working in the dark until past midnight. I was a construction widow.

Doug Takes the Reins

The process wasn’t easy. Doug had to widen the trenches the contractor had dug, then lay down lengths of fabric that spanned the bottom and up the sides of the trench. After that he had to shovel in crushed rock and place the drainage pipe on top of the rock. Hauling the rock was laborious since he had to scoop it out of the bed of the truck and place it into buckets to lower down into the trench. He worked his way all around the footprint of the house and garage — about 320 feet.

Once the pipe was laid down he had to haul more crushed rock to cover it up, then wrapped the fabric like a burrito around the rock and pipe. On top of that went the dirt. It took him weeks of working in the hot sun to get this job done. And now we have more rain, which is going to delay the back-fill process and placing of the concrete basement floor and garage pad.

I have newfound admiration for my wonderful husband. He wanted the job done right and was willing to put his back into it. He wore through ten pairs of gloves and shoveled 10 1/2 tons of stone. He grew muscles in places he’d never had them before.

He had also constructed the septic system. You remember the story about the septic tank, right? That project took months of work. Then, after he had put in the chambers and pipe leading out to the leach field, we had a terrible hail storm, which drilled numerous holes in each pipe. So his choice was either to dig out and replace the pipes, which would have cost over $1000 or do a patch job. He opted for the patch job. There are three pipelines and each one has taken days of back breaking work to patch each hole.

A Major Project

Building this house has become more of a project than either one of us imagined it would be. In the meantime we’ve picked out kitchen cabinets, windows and doors. That process had quite a few iterations. Early on we spent days drawing up plans for the architect to then formalize. And we spent more days to select a lender for the loan. It’s been a huge investment in time and we’re far from being done.

After I lost my house in the wildfire, I remember all the decisions that had to be made to get the new house built. But I didn’t have to do any of the foundation or septic work. I was blissfully ignorant of what went on below ground.

Still, I’m excited about the new house. I’ve been in our present house almost ten years now. And Doug, being an engineer, has wanted to build something with better design features and a little more room. When I drew up the plans for this home, I hadn’t yet met Doug, so the walk-in closet wasn’t designed for more than one person. Surprise! I met the love of my life!

The new house is projected to be done in May/June 2024. So we’ll have a very busy Spring. I’ll keep you posted as the building process proceeds. Wish us luck!

The Engineer’s Wife

I married an engineer.

You’re talking to a woman who doesn’t balance her checkbook, goes by the rule “good enough IS enough” and cooks by the seat of her pants. As my former boss knows all too well, the term “planning” is anathema to me. Risk assessment is a phrase I’ve never much dwelled on. Project management scares me silly and “measure twice, cut once” is a lesson I still haven’t learned.

Enter my wonderful husband, Doug.

He balances his checkbook to the penny, glories in the magic of spreadsheets, color codes his calendar and keeps emails longer than I’ve kept tax records.

I’ve learned a lot in the four short years we’ve been married.

For example: it’s “soil” not dirt; it’s “concrete” not cement; and it’s “fuel” not gas.

I’ve grown used to pillow-talk on Subsurface Utility Engineering, foundation design, reinforced concrete slab, erosion control BMP (best management practices), traffic control device spacing and signal timing.

Oooo, baby! Whisper it to me slowly!

When we read in bed, I’m absorbed in Jerry Jenkins’ Left Behind books. Doug is knee deep in Reinforced Concrete Design.

We have baggies of “soil” all over the house and a jar of dirt and water measuring the separation of clay and sand. The official name is “Sediment Suspension Test” in case you were wondering. The jar sits among other decorative items on our fireplace mantle. While Doug observes sediment layers measured in centimeters, I see an image of snow covered sage bushes.

He’s planning a leach field for our future home and texts me love notes of holes in the ground with protruding measuring implements. Last year for Christmas I got him the Survey Linker Rod he asked for. I call it a BMS – Big Measuring Stick.

Our dinner conversations are all about perc tests and clay deposits.

The garage is now organized with every rake and shovel and broom in their own special spot. A tennis ball hangs to indicate the exact spot to park the car. Tools nest in drawers according to size and function.

When I hang a picture on the wall, it’s a hit or miss process. He’ll measure from stem to stern (he’s a Navy guy) to find the right place for the nail. I marvel at how he only needs one hole to do the job right.

Yet, I’m the fussy one when it comes to loading the dishwasher. I re-arrange to get maximum cleanliness. And God help anyone who puts plates in the wrong spot. I’m sensitive to water flow and soap dispersion, ya know.

Together we make a great pair. We poke fun at our quirks and find plenty to laugh about. I love his wit and sense of humor. He puts up with my penchant to collect books, boxes and old furniture.

I call him “Cookie Monster” ‘cause he sneaks out of bed at night to raid the pantry. He calls me “Blondie” although these days, it’s more a pet name than a fact.

We’re lucky we found each other. And he’s the best Cabin Dude this Cabin Mama could ever have hoped for!

Big Beautiful Birthday Surprise

I was beginning to learn that Doug had a great sense of humor and was also good at springing surprises on me. My birthday was no exception.

As the date approached, I coyly let him know I didn’t have any plans for that night. Being the gentleman he was he said, “Well, of course we’re going to have to celebrate! How about supper out that night?” And I said yes, with a smile.

He arrived at the house to pick me up with a long narrow box wrapped in birthday paper and urged me to open it before we went out. What could it be? I imagined all kinds of exciting things. I tore open the wrappings and pulled back the tissue paper to find…

…a grill brush!

“Since you said the wildfire burned your barbecue grill, I thought I’d get you a brush for when you get another,” he explained. I didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t at all what I’d expected. (Visions of a vacuum cleaner, skillet and stepladder for Christmas danced through my head.)

But my momma taught me to be polite. No. Matter. What. So I recovered from my surprise and thanked him profusely. “It’s perfect,” I said. “Just what I’ll be needing!”

Then out we went, down the steps and towards his truck. He opened the door for me as he always did, but stopped me in mid-step.

There was a big white propane gas bottle on the floorboard in front of the seat. “Wait a minute; let me get that out of your way,” he said, “I’ll just put it in the back of the truck — along with the REST of your present.”

He led me around to the bed of the truck and opened the cab topper to reveal a HUGE box. Inside the box was — you guessed it —a grill! A big, bright, shiny brand new grill!

I couldn’t contain myself! I was so floored by his generosity that I jumped up and gave him a big kiss. I almost knocked him over and think I surprised him as much as he had surprised me! My gosh, I would never have expected that kind of a gift. We’d only been dating a month or so.

I was glowing as we went in for dinner. It was a wonderful evening. We talked, laughed, held hands — the typical lovey-dovey stuff you do when you’re dating. (Being a Mom, I wasn’t even tempted to nudge his glass away from the edge of the table or cut up his steak.)

Then he looked deep into my eyes and said, “Laurie (my family calls me Laurie), do you think it’s possible for two people to know it’s right so soon in the relationship?” I sucked in my breath and thought, “Wow! Did I just hear what I thought I heard?”

But he was sincere. There was no joking around with that question. “Yes,” I said. “I’ve heard of people who have only known each other a few weeks and knew it was the real thing. And they’ve lasted. I do think it’s possible.” Goosebumps came over me and I thought, maybe this IS the real thing!

A full moon was out by the time we got back to my place. We sat on the front porch under its light and talked for hours. I decided to share parts of my “backstory” so I wouldn’t be wasting my time (or his). I was nervous as I told him more of my past, health issues and responsibilities, but he pulled my feet up onto his lap, leaned forward and said, “Is that all ya got?”

My gosh, this man was a saint. Not that I’m an ax murderer or anything, but we’ve all got baggage. I had decided not to hide anything, so if he stuck around it was because he really loved me, warts and all.

I was getting the sense he was starting to feel that way.

But that wasn’t all. There were more surprises to come!

How I Met the Man of My Dreams

I wasn’t looking. And despite my sister’s encouragement, I wasn’t eager to meet the guy she kept saying was a very nice man. She’d worked with him for decades and had even showed me his Facebook Page. Nice smile. Good looking. But I’d gotten used to being on my own lo’ those many years and frankly didn’t want the drama.

Then she invited me to a Military Appreciation Day concert. Mom, Dad and my sister were planning to go. She added, “Oh and Doug’s coming too.”

Great! Pressure. “Okay but just don’t make me sit next to him, I said.” I didn’t want a setup. I’d been in the new house just a few years after the wildfire burned my old one down and was happy to have some peace in my life. But just in case, I brought along my best friend – for protection ya know.

We all met for a bite to eat before the concert and I noticed how nice he was to my Mom. He was great fun to talk with, we had some things in common and I liked the stories he told.

The concert was wonderful. I sat way at the end of the row and he sat way at the other end next to my sister. After it was over, he gave me his business card and I gave him mine.

My sister told me that as he walked her out to her car, Doug mentioned he liked our family a lot. “Your Mom and Dad are great. Your sister was nice.” Then he added, “But I REALLY liked your sister Laurie!”

The next day we exchanged a polite, “Nice to meet you” email and then, well, then there was nothing. A month passed, so I went about my business, until out of the blue I got a text.

“Would you like to have supper with me sometime?” I said yes and within a minute he extended the invite. “How about this coming Monday?” The guy didn’t waste much time firming things up.

So we had dinner — once, twice, three times. He came to my house and I went to his. Before we knew it, we were a couple. It was gradual, but it was clear there was something there of substance. We got along well. He made me laugh. He asked me questions about my likes, dislikes, my life and my driving record. (He’s an engineer, after all.)

There were regular emails with links to romantic songs on YouTube and texts of “sweet nothings” that gave me the goosebumps. I loved being pursued and I swear there were days I couldn’t concentrate on work. At. All.

It was wonderful to finally meet someone who seemed to be as enthralled with me as I was with him. Truly, the sun shone brighter, the sky seemed bluer and the birds sang sweeter. Life was good!

Then my birthday came around. Wait till you hear what happened next!

Horse Crazy Gal Finally Gets a Pony

How many of us will admit to being a little horse crazy as a kid? When I was a young ‘un, I lined the shelves in my bedroom with lots of little plastic horse statues, hoping one day I’d get to own a real one.

When my parents took us six kids to a winter festival, we sat on a sled with hay bales pulled by a team of huge draft horses. I remember telling my mom, “I love the smell of horses!”

(I’m the one in red)

My sisters and I would pretend to be Palominos, Appaloosas, Arabians and Mustangs. We’d run through the woods, whinnying and pawing the air with our “hooves” to prove just how wild and untamed we really were.

I dreamed of having an office one day like Wilbur on TV. His horse, Mr. Ed, would hang his head over the stall door that separated the barn from the architect’s place of business. Ah, the best of both worlds!

Then I grew up. I rode whenever a chance occurred, took a few riding lessons and vowed one day I’d have my own horse. But the time never came. I got married and the kids came along, which took most of our resources to keep up with. And later on when I bought the cabin, there wasn’t enough room to board a horse on that little spot in the woods.

But my new boyfriend had owned a horse. And he had built himself a small barn to keep “Sonny” in.

So early on in our dating adventures, he invited me over for dinner and gave me a tour of the place. He had a saddle in the basement, horse blankets on a stand and ropes on the wall, just like a real cowboy!

He even called me “Darlin’” with that country kind of drawl. (Every time he calls me “Darlin” it gives me goosebumps!)

But there was more! “C’mon out to the barn,” he said. “I’ve got something to show you.”

He slid open the door and sunshine streamed across the dirt floor to the hay bales stacked against the rough wooden panels.

“I know you’ve been hankerin’ for a horse, so I got you one.”

And there it was, with sunlight bathing its long brown mane and a white blaze across its forehead. It stood there placid, silent and serene and stared deep into my eyes.

My very own stick pony!

He urged me to take it for a ride, but I knew I was too much of a novice to do it justice. So I just took it home and it shares my office. Just like Wilbur and Mr. Ed!