Want the good part of the story?
Skip to the beam placement.
Last weekend we took Brynne and Doyle up on their wedding gift to us: a day working with us on the house. We were very excited about their help, as we both enjoy their company, and, admittedly, had a
lot of house work to do.
Tom Sawyer, here we come!
Doyle showed up at noon, expecting Brynne to not show up at all: turns out, she had previous plans for lunch, hair cut and visit with a friend. Kris was off walking the dogs, so Doyle and I dashed off to pick up a truck load of free dirt I had dibs on from
Freecycle (yay, Freecycle!).
Between two truckloads (the final two of five or six that we managed to pick up), Mark called, asking Doyle if he could help him with placing a beam.
"A what? A bean? Like Jack and the Beanstalk?"
"No, a beam. Like a beam of light."
"Oh. Okay."
Mark needed help placing a support beam for the first floor in his house. He had removed the basement wall that faced downhill from his house, and was replacing the first floor support beams, one by one. He had replaced the small cross beams, and now needed help replacing the big ones on the ends.
He offered to help us with the yard in exchange for our help placing the beam. We agreed, but asked him to help us first. Our work was finite, his sounded ongoing.
So, with Mark, Kris, Doyle, me and eventually Brynne, we managed to
finally clean the weeds out from the front yard, and till the yard. Brynne was a little hestitant with the tiller, though Mark took to it.
Neighbors, you can shut up now. And stop with the cursing.
Off to Mark's the four of us went (Brynne skipped out).
Our goal at Mark's was to place a structural beam. The beam needed to slide into a space 8 feet up, along top some beams along a wall. To place the beam, however, meant lifting the 250 pound 24 foot piece of wood up and guiding it into place. I was to guide the beam, the guys were going to lift it.
"Are you afraid of heights?"
"Not particularly."
I'm not quite sure why I didn't clue in when Mark asked me that question.
To get the best angle for guiding, Mark suggested I climb up, on top of the current beam, and guide the new beam into place. Eh, okay, I climbed up. I stood where Mark is here, eight feet up (10 if I missed the floor and jumped down through the hole in the floor next to me).
1... 2... 3... Heave! Up goes the beam, and forward, the three guys lift the beam up and start moving it into place. I push, pull, adjust, shove and angle the beam as best I can, until I look down, and realize I'm straddling this beam, it's not going into the space and, crap, if they drop that beam, I'm dead.
"Uh, guys, I'm a little uncomfortable here."
Still holding this beam up at chest height, balancing on a railing, straining not to drop it, they wait a few moments for me to hop over the beam, drop back down to the ground, and let my heart rate lower a bit.
One more shove and the beam is in far enough that the guys no longer needed to support it.
Phew!
We joked about the moment for a bit. Doyle mentioned he wasn't sure why Mark wanted me above the beam, seemed a little dangerous. Kris laughed and said, yeah, if they had dropped the beam, it would have been trebuchet-kitt, or trebu-kitt, with the new beam pivoting around a perpendicular old beam, launching me down the hill, possibly to my death. He also said we'd see how much of a rush adrenaline could be as he'd do everything in his power to keep that beam up. I vocally wondered if I would have recognized the beam was moving up, and jumped over and out of the way of the beam. I'm not convinced I would have been aware enough of the situation to trade living for two broken ankles. Doyle then wondered how well I could get out of the way if both he and Mark had suddenly pulled down on the beam, Kris' adrenaline be damned.
He then laughed at my, "Uh, guys, I'm a bit uncomfortable here."
We then spent the next 3 hours trying to wedge the beam into place. Mark figured it would take 2 hours, assuming 2 snags. We hit 4 snags, which included a beam in the way (it was chain-saw'd off), too narrow of a space (we moved the wall to increase the space), plumbing in the way (we sawed a larger space), and yet another beam in the way, this one in the front of the house (we jacked the house up even more).
Because of the close space for the beam to go into, Chris and Kris used a sledge hammer to pound the beam into place. Each hit moved the 24 foot beam all of 1/2". Needless to say, it took each of them trading turns a
long time.
The reward at the end? A delicious protein full dinner of yummy sushi, and an entertaining trebu-kitt story.
I wanted to write about last weekend, well, last weekend, but I wanted to post with the pictures from last week. In order to post the pictures, however, I needed to set up my new system because I'm running out of disk space on the old system. But setting up the new system required copying my site to the new server, which required hooking the old system to the new system via ethernet, instead of copying through the switch (really, really slowly, since I have the system bandwidth rate limited). And setting up the system for copying over ethernet requires a trip to the colo.
When Kris and I watch CSI: Miami, we always talk in repeating sentences, typically mocking the Horatio Caine character who repeats himself every other sentence. Every. Other. Sentence.
It's quite funny to add emphasis by repeating sentences. By. Repeating. Sentences. Especially when the other person giggles.
Today, when driving home from picking up 
I like getting rid of my junk. I like that I didn't throw it in the garbage. I like that it can be used more.
Sometimes, the timing works out well where I'd like to pick something up from the list. Like today, for example. I'm trying to recover from an injury, so when a piece of exercise equipment was offered, I contacted the offerer via email. At the offerer's request, I called to arrange a pickup time for the item.
The call was a bit uncomfortable for me.
I tried to be cheerful. This person was giving me a relatively expensive piece of equipment. I'm going to be as excited as I can be on the phone.
The voice on the other end of the line, however, sounded depressed. It was also hesitant, and, crap, I'm not going to explain this well, and I'm probably projecting here, but also lacking self esteem.
The voice reminded me of a coworker back in L.A. This guy had everything in his life go wrong. Everything. His wife was a chronic shopaholic, spending so much money on credit cards that even the second mortgage wouldn't cover the bills. He never stood up for himself. He didn't trust his decisions. He couldn't talk to anyone above him at work. I'm pretty sure I intimidated the hell out of him.
Crap, I can't even remember this guy's name.
Before I met him, I believed that, with desire and a bit of effort, that people could fundamentally change; that people could break out of their shells and realize their potential; that people could learn, achieve.
I figured, if I could come out of my shell, do the things I do, learn what I've learned, and accomplished what I've accomplished, then anyone could. Right?
Well, after I worked with this guy for a bit, I realized that, no, there are some cases that even with a lot of work, won't ever break from that shell. I can't say "hopeless," but I wouldn't say "hopeful" either.
The voice at the other end reminded me of this ex-coworker. Reminded me of the people who don't have the resources and opportunities that I have and have had. Reminded me how much a desire to be more than this can drive a person.
Reminded how far I had come on my journey.
I'm glad to have made it this far.
Mike wanted "beef with scallions."
No problem. Standard dish.
After waiting on-hold for too long, I finally managed to talk to someone to take my order. The first item I ordered was the "Beef with scallions."
"We don't have any dish like that."
Um...
Okay.
Without pausing, I continued with the next item on our order, while simultaneously looking up the closest item from the menu. From the menu:
When I was 4 years old, my parents sent me on my merry way to visit my cousin Janelle and her husband Paul down in Kentucky. I remember much more about that trip than I suspect I probably should.
I vaguely remember the inside of Janelle's house. I remember playing in the back yard with the milkweed along the back fence. I remember looking up and seeing a jet and its contrails across the clear blue sky. I remember Paul coming home late in the afternoon.
And I remember taking my first shower. I remember it being strange to stand in the tub and have water fall down upon me. Janelle bathed me, so I wasn't taking one by myself, but it was still slightly frightening. The water - its moving! Really fast!
Mid-July, one of my two nephews is coming to visit me for a week. The journey will certainly be entertaining, and I suspect the week will be crazy, too. But I'm looking forward to spending the week with a 4 year old boy.
Admittedly, I'm a little nervous about being able to keep up with Sam for a week. How do I keep a 4 year old entertained? I can't bring all his toys over here, and I'm certainly not plunking him down in front of the television for a week. I wonder if he'd be willing to garden with me.
I talked to JenO about sitting for a week. She says we should schedule a play date between Cole and Sam. And that I can borrow various toys for the week.
I'll also have to put away all my clutter, child-proof the house. That's going to be a chore.
Oh, yeah, and buy a plastic mattress cover for the twin bed. The only thing worse than a dog pissing in a (read: my) bed is a little boy pissing in a (read: my other) bed.
My mom is out to visit. She's out for not very long, which is sad, but it's more than nothing. When she comes out to visit, she gets things done, which is great, because I need the motivation sometimes.
These few days, she's gone to see