In between writing papers and moping about missing Burbank, I've been working with my sweet grandfather. The man is a force of nature in more ways than one.
Recently, we've been working on replacing a set of stairs made of railroad ties. Quoi, you say? Well railroad ties are the giant wooden... logs that go under the railroad tracks. They're soaked in creosote to prevent rotting, so they last really well.
This set of stairs was originally built 50 years ago when GF first built their house. We've been slowly removing the old ones, leveling out the surface we need (by hacking through some serious roots), cutting the new railroad ties (which I'll get back to), and putting them in their new place.
This sounds like a fairly simple process. Well, it's not! It's a gigantic pain in my pale Irish butt! Railroad ties are HEAVY! Trying to cut them in two is a whole process that leaves you sweaty, somewhat cranky, and stinking of creosote. For instance, this morning it took us two and a half hours to cut ONE! Granted, it was on an angle, so the cut was about 30 inches long, but still. It involved a rotary saw, a skill saw, a hand saw, a broken can of WD-40, three chisels, a clamp, enough saw dust to really piss off Grandmother, enough stinky creosote smoke to make the house reek, and enough expletives to make the two of us sound like sailors (or actors, who have horrendous potty mouths).
Grandfather asked me if I have any classes that require story writing. I said, not really, but that it sounded perfect for a blog post.
Now that I've been home for a few hours, I don't stink anymore, but my knuckles are still bleeding. I'll be so proud when the damn thing's done!
2 comments:
That is SO Grandfather. So, so Grandfather.
pictures! pictures! Must document your progress throughout this experience! and then POST the pictures! PIC-TURES! PIC-TURES! (chanting now)...
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