“Do you girls want to help build the
tree house?” I heard my wife say this to my daughter and her
friend. It may be surprising that I could hear her say this, but
since I could only see spots, my hearing was compensating... (This
is also foreshadowing)
People who write how-to books are
sadistic. (This is a basic truth.)
Because the tree house was for the kids
and their friends, I decided to abandon my usual approach to building
and had done some research and even had plans. The first book I read
was very clear, you cannot anchor the tree house to the tree. There
was something about how this would cause the tree house to fall apart
as the tree grew. Instead, you take two strong boards and bolt them
into either side of the tree and then rest the tree house on this.
As the tree grows or gently sways in the wind (since we live on the
side of a mountain, I was picturing a more “gently” snapping in
gale force winds.) the tree house moves with it. So, with the two
support beams anchored into the tree trunk, I was ready to start the
platform.
“Daddy, are the boards supposed to be
that crooked?” My daughter kept asking after I gently rested each
of the support boards on the the boards bolted into the tree.
Anyone who has done any kind of
construction, knows that you always plan a slight slope so that water
will drain off. My muttered answer (since I was out of quarters, my
daughter did not hear my real answer. (My wife had recently
instituted a policy where certain words meant a quarter was added to
a jar. This was a good idea after my daughter tried out “damn
it”... I think her exact phrase was “Damn it, daddy, you have
to play Barbies with me, now.”
I told her that was not a word “we”
use.
“But mommy says it all the time.”
I explained that it was not a word she
should use.
“But I like it, damn it!” That was
the start of the money jar.)) was always “Yes.”
Until I stepped back to look at my
progress.
“Mom! Daddy said your favorite word!
Again...”
The plans called for 2X6 boards bolted
into the tree and 8 inch lag bolts. I'd used 2X8s and 12 inch lag
bolts figuring to be extra safe. The pictures in the books all
looked amazing and words like straight and level sprung to mind. As
I looked over my progress I realized I was going to have to go the
bank and get a roll of quarters... I also realized that the people
that wrote the how to for tree houses are (insert at least three
quarters here) sadists.
So, my daughter, son and I sat on the
hill and looked at the beginning of the tree house platform. “Is
that what you planned, daddy?”
“No.”
“Will we ever have a tree house?”
“Yes.”
“Can you fix it?”
“Yes.”
“I know you can do it, daddy.” My daughter patted my should in a kinda doubtful way.
“Can we go up and play in it?” My
son is the optimist.
“It needs some more bracing,” I
decided. A couple of 4X4s would definitely remove the grotesque
tilt. Fortunately, none of the plans I'd looked at had called for
that. This meant I was back in my comfort zone.... winging it.
There was just one problems with my new
non-plan. The posts needed to be cemented into the ground. That
meant digging through several feet of rock. I was halfway through
digging the post holes (and most of the way through a coronary.).
This was when I heard my wife say, “Do you girls want to help build
the tree house?”
My daughter had a friend over and they
were both anxious to play in the new tree house. “Yes, let's go
help my daddy!” I'm positive I heard my wife smirk.
“Daddy, we'll help you dig.” I saw two blond-headed blurs coming down the hill. They were blurry because of the heat stroke, minor aneurysm and heart attack I was currently having.
I managed to bite back, “Go away and
annoy your mother,”
“This is heavy,” My daughter
grunted as she picked up the post-hole digger. “Is your foot ok?”
she asked after she dropped the pointy end on my foot. Luckily I was
wearing work boots and I'd lost most of the feeling in my lower body
from the aneurysm.
“I know, we can pick the rocks out
the of the hole! Daddy, you dig and we'll do that.” Both girls
squatted next to the very shallow beginning of a hole and were ready
to snatch any rocks that would show up. The only problem was I had
to break through the impenetrable layer of rock first. And I didn't
want my daughter's friend to take any new words home with her...
I also wanted my daughter's friend to
go home with both her hands. I knew as soon as I started to use the
post-hole digger, one of them would reach in for a rock, no matter
how far I told them to stand back.
When I write my how to book on tree
houses, I'm going to include the little things like digging through
rocks, avoiding cutting off little hands (no matter how tempting) and
how to ignore all plans. Oh wait, I've already done that.
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