HOW TO BUILD A CASTLE FOR THE WOMAN OF YOUR DREAMS (Hint: choose the right brotherhood...)
In our book, Letters in a Helmet, Bob and I write about the power of brotherhood. Of course, we included the stories of our wives who, for both of us, are the underpinnings of our lives. This is a short tale of the brotherhood I used to build my wife's castle.
The Puzzle
The truth is, blueprints are an architect's dream. I had some, but we had to bend and rework his plans to turn our puzzle pieces into a castle. The plan was to dig the footers after Colorado's high country unfroze in June, but you know how that goes, right? Plan approvals, permits, blah, blah, we didn't have the slab poured and the sole plates ready until October.
I was doubling the size of our old log house by surrounding three sides of it with big rooms, using huge structural insulated panels (SIPs). These panels are made of 12" slabs of styrofoam sandwiched between panels of oriented strand board (OSB). Of course, it warmed up and snowed the day before this photo was taken. Then the temp dropped. At least we had some sun to fly the roof panels into place. That's what we're getting ready to do here.
The crane owner/operator's parents were neighbors, so he gave us a deal. Expensive by the hour, but still a deal. The entire house and roof was comprised of twenty-one gigantic panels, fitted together. These rooms ended up being nice and toasty when the temps dropped into the minus twenties in February.
The Brotherhood
Jerry's on the crane, I'm in red suspenders, Terry's pounding the engineered spline into place while Bob and I hold the panel. A half hour later, we had it cinched and screwed in place on the roof. Job sites in winter can be dangerous but we were working fast. We had nine more pieces to go.
Why could these guys and I work so fast? Sure, Jerry was an artist with his crane. Bob and Terry were great carpenters and we all knew the hand signals to direct Jerry's crane load. But that's not why we were all there that day. I'd learned that if you can't laugh together, you can't work together worth a damn. And I'm convinced jobs where people can laugh with each other are way more productive, since they're more fun to be at in the first place.
It's all about context. You can't laugh it up if you don't "get" each others' humor. We all knew what to do with my lot full of materials, equipment and tools. But I hired them because, when we were working, if something happened out of context, we'd laugh about it rather than whine and moan and blame each other. No stopping for fist fights, if you know what I mean. Hire a funny crew, that's my motto.
The Porch
After the roof was on, we shingled it to dry everything in, then we installed the windows. Months later, another pal, Bruce, and I stood up a couple of log posts, made an arch out of laminated pieces of 3/4" plywood and encased it in cedar and rusty sheet steel on the bottom.
Eventually we wrapped the top and bottom of the logs with rusty steel bands so the trim would all match, I installed the porch lights and we were done.
As the house progressed toward the finish line, that porch became the place where we toasted the end of each day with cold ones.
The Queen
And finally, at long last, my darling wife, Michelle, had her dream home. If truth be known, everything I did in all the years we were together was for her. She was an amazing woman, a woman in full. Here she is in blue with her good friend Elsa.
Do you know someone who needs some funny but smart advice about prostate cancer? Read Bob's book, The Prostate Chronicles here.
The Puzzle
The truth is, blueprints are an architect's dream. I had some, but we had to bend and rework his plans to turn our puzzle pieces into a castle. The plan was to dig the footers after Colorado's high country unfroze in June, but you know how that goes, right? Plan approvals, permits, blah, blah, we didn't have the slab poured and the sole plates ready until October.
I was doubling the size of our old log house by surrounding three sides of it with big rooms, using huge structural insulated panels (SIPs). These panels are made of 12" slabs of styrofoam sandwiched between panels of oriented strand board (OSB). Of course, it warmed up and snowed the day before this photo was taken. Then the temp dropped. At least we had some sun to fly the roof panels into place. That's what we're getting ready to do here. The crane owner/operator's parents were neighbors, so he gave us a deal. Expensive by the hour, but still a deal. The entire house and roof was comprised of twenty-one gigantic panels, fitted together. These rooms ended up being nice and toasty when the temps dropped into the minus twenties in February.
The Brotherhood
Jerry's on the crane, I'm in red suspenders, Terry's pounding the engineered spline into place while Bob and I hold the panel. A half hour later, we had it cinched and screwed in place on the roof. Job sites in winter can be dangerous but we were working fast. We had nine more pieces to go.
Why could these guys and I work so fast? Sure, Jerry was an artist with his crane. Bob and Terry were great carpenters and we all knew the hand signals to direct Jerry's crane load. But that's not why we were all there that day. I'd learned that if you can't laugh together, you can't work together worth a damn. And I'm convinced jobs where people can laugh with each other are way more productive, since they're more fun to be at in the first place.
It's all about context. You can't laugh it up if you don't "get" each others' humor. We all knew what to do with my lot full of materials, equipment and tools. But I hired them because, when we were working, if something happened out of context, we'd laugh about it rather than whine and moan and blame each other. No stopping for fist fights, if you know what I mean. Hire a funny crew, that's my motto.
The Porch
After the roof was on, we shingled it to dry everything in, then we installed the windows. Months later, another pal, Bruce, and I stood up a couple of log posts, made an arch out of laminated pieces of 3/4" plywood and encased it in cedar and rusty sheet steel on the bottom. Eventually we wrapped the top and bottom of the logs with rusty steel bands so the trim would all match, I installed the porch lights and we were done.
As the house progressed toward the finish line, that porch became the place where we toasted the end of each day with cold ones.
The QueenAnd finally, at long last, my darling wife, Michelle, had her dream home. If truth be known, everything I did in all the years we were together was for her. She was an amazing woman, a woman in full. Here she is in blue with her good friend Elsa.
Do you know someone who needs some funny but smart advice about prostate cancer? Read Bob's book, The Prostate Chronicles here.
Ron
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