new digs

this is how the high-rise fancy-ass city living is going. views of hood, mt. saint helen's, ranier on a clear day and a constant parade of hobos 15 floors down.

just try to picture it without the rainbow sheet draped over the couch. it's much fancier.

pop up

third floor deck where all the watermelon launching and roman candle fights will happen. and yes, just inside the door, a mini fridge stocked with pine needle juice, aka fun nectar. also, little smokies. and that's what i'm talking about.

and to show all you earth haters what's what, there'll be a green roof. some call it an eco-roof. my take? giant cat box. yes, that i alone will be in charge of cleaning.

king of the pop up. really, it's me. but it's fun to let joren dream (hence the paper mache nail gun so he doesn't hurt himself).

deal of the century

i got this beauty on an errand to buy string-up work lights. but look! it's an old horseshoe! waaaay better than string-up work lights. it doesn't light the workspace quite as well as you might think, but look! it's an old horseshoe!

we're open for business 24/7

just like 7-11 without the slurpee machine. or a truckstop, but the bathrooms are marginally cleaner, and also fewer truck whores.

string up some lights and it's like a quiceanera! meets barn dance! meets that last scene in footloose! i mean, did that town really think they could stop ren from cuttin' footloose? idiots.

in tarp city, usa you've got to batten down the hatches. i like to call this particular inclement weather tarp exercise: "when it's all said and done, you might end up getting divorced or flying off the roof or riddled with severe cord burns". it's sort of like the trust fall where you fall back into a web of what you think are capable, trustworthy arms, but instead land in a pile of wood chips like i did at church camp in fourth grade.

because when jesus cries on our house, you've got to be ready.

it's hard to see, but imagine if you will...

the cat training arena will be in the upper left hand room, as seen without a wall here. the roof rafters are where we will hang the hobos in the drying process of my new brainchild: hobo-jerky (patent pending).

stairs to the top of the water slide! (currently, a tie vote has brought the entire water slide idea to a temporary, albeit screeching, halt.)

and a roof. yes, where the go carts and summer bible school classes will be.

before...

ahh. before. remember before? barely. flowers. green grass. my brain tells me it was pretty and clean and tidy. maybe not tidy, but perhaps whispers of organization.

next stop

so, we were finally booted out of our digs across the street from the job site. yes, the neighbors got paroled. we packed our bags and moved downtown to what i like to call some fancy ass high rise living. the walls are made of glass! there's a concierge! the air is circulated! garbage chute? yes! a garbage chute! and, as a bonus, there's no lawn to mow and no firewood patrol. let me back up. firewood patrol: where i wheelbarrow around the yard picking up scraps of lumber while at the same time making a number of highly-technical, potentially-critical wood decisions. a. is it plywood and is small enough to be recycled? b. is it plywood and big enough to be used for a picket sign in the future? c. is it burnable and can we use it this winter for firewood when the heat still isn't installed? d. is it pressure treated in which case using it as firewood would destroy 16% of my remaining brain cells? e. is that another splinter in my finger? f. i'm hungry. i wonder what we have for snacks in the makeshift kitchen.

it's hard. i'll be standing there with a piece of wood in my hand, running options a through q and joren will shout down, "Hey get a move on, wouldja, Sweetie?" so i do. sort of.

so, here we are. 15 floors up. almost in heaven, except we're still alive to enjoy it! no harps or wings, though. damn, i've always wanted a harp. AND there's a dollar store just out the front door! have you ever been? things are A DOLLAR. each. a modest sized bag of pork rinds? one dollar. really thin foil? one dollar. a bag of what i thought was shredded cheese, only to take it home and read on the packaging "not intended to be melted"? ONE DOLLAR. so, there you have it. we're officially fancy in the building right next to the dollar store. i'm going to get a roll of quarters this week to start tipping the guy who opens the front door for me every time i leave or come back from the dollar store. which is a lot.