So, my dad is in town, from Pennsylvania, with the intent to build us a new covered porch. So far, things are going smashingly. I took the day off from work and did this:
That whole pile of old porch? Neatly stacked in the garden. What about the dirt Matt dug up yesterday for the concrete pilings? Yeah, I shoveled all that and spread it around the garden.
The new porch is 8' by 12', and if you don't think pressure treated decking in 12 foot lengths is heavy, you're a moron.
In the above photo, I've captured the rarely photographed Big Mike. My dad's pretty badass for 59. Here's what the end result of today is. Don't let Maggie fool you, she just laid around all day and watched us.
It was pretty surreal, roaming through the new Lowe's with my dad. I had multiple flashbacks of being 6,10, and 15 and in the same scenario. Dad mutters to himself about the plans, we can't find 14' planks, so we have to get 16-footers, I had to go back and get angle caps, but got the wrong size, I hold the board while he bashes it just a teensy bit more into the hole in the house...did I mention my hands are inches away from the bashing tool?
All my life, Dan and I helped build things with him. We were the holders, the flashlight shiners, and the weight. "Go get your brother and stand on this thing". Today was really awesome, even though I was cold. I wish I could take the rest of the week off and be a little girl again, holding heavy things and fetching tools and looking for the elusive 9/16ths wrench that grew legs.