Ka-Chunk!

So last I left you, we'd spent a weekend pulling up the old Masonite and floor off the Ringold St kitchen floor. Well, we got through that and got it all loaded up and off to the dump. Now, we can start re-building. This is an old duplex house. I mean old. Okay, we're not talking about historical registers or anything, but they're damn old. Which actually means that there is nothing straight, level, or flat. The old tongue and groove wood floor base was severely cupped and sagging on at least two sides. So there's a product that is basically like silly sand, but it's cement. You mix this stuff up and you keep stirring until you pour and it sets up and hopefully your floor is better than what you started out with. Cool. So Butch got the luwan cut to size and placed and last Friday night we picked up the STAPLER! You hook this baby up to the air compressor and away you go! Well, I'm sitting on a stool with wheels so I can scoot around and have this stapler in hand and Butch says make sure you put a staple every 4 inches. I kinda figured this was an approximate measurement and he was like no, every 4 inches. So, I'm sitting there facing into a corner and the drywall square was there leaning on the wall. So, I flipped it down on the floor thinking that I could use it as a guide to 4 inches-you know, just for a bit till I got the hang of it. So I start off and the stapler is so cool. Ka-chunk, Ka-chunk, Ka-chunk......
Ka-chink!

Okay, I stapled the damn drywall square to the stinkin' floor. All I could do was laugh. Actually after prying it off the floor, Butch wasn't too pleased with me. For all he knew I could have stapled my foot to the floor, but nooooooo, just because his square now has a hole at 38 3/8 inches he was all upset with me. After I did that, I gave up on that 4" thing and just went for "about 4" "
I'm terrified of the nail gun, but that stapler was pretty damn fun.
He's been on shut-down at work this week, so he's been over there in the day, which means I get out of working at night. R has been helping him out with the painting and electric stuff. Butch says R knows what needs to be done and he just goes and does it. I think I'm jealous. I'll just bet he's not as much fun as me.....and I'm sure Butch sure doesn't have to worry as much either.

The Floor no more

Okay, remember a while ago I told you about Butch grinding all those nail heads?
Well, we were rolling along gutting that kitchen, thinking we could patch it where it needed to be and level it and go on from there. Doug, the floor guy came to measure and was not to optimistic about being able to work with it like that. So we've spent the last 2 days tearing it up. We're now down to original old tongue and groove boards. The pick-up is overflowing with old floor bits. And there are still some at the house.
This is what went on....you sat on a stool/milkcrate/something and with my favorite tool, a pry bar, and a hammer pried the damn floor up 4 inches at a time. Why 4 inches? Because that was how far apart the Person who put it down nailed it. I thought 432 staples he put in the one ceiling were bad. Of course, it's been mid 90 degrees all weekend. Talk about a hot pissed off grouch, and I was even worse!
We got the framing for the new ceiling up last weekend, and we did get it primed this past week, so we don't have to look at those scary walls. I had to scrub them down before we could even put the Kiltz on it. I honestly don't think that they'd ever been cleaned of kitchen grease or cigarette smoke...ever. I didn't remember to take the camera along, so no great photos of the mess.
Another night for rum and Motrin.....I sure hope we never run out of either!

2 years

See the picture over to the left? The happy couple barefoot in the sand of their favorite place in the world? Well, that was 2 years ago, yesterday.

We'll be back there the week after Richmond. There's nothing like September on Hatteras Island. It's even worth the very real threat of hurricanes. A couple of years ago, we ran off one side of the island while Isabelle was coming on the other side. Just wish we could find a way to hide there for a very long time.

Here's a couple of pictures from two years ago....

Lyd, and the girls

An explanation...my something old was a gold pin shaped like a palm tree. My grandfather, on probably the only vacation he ever had, went to Florida, and brought Lydia back the pin. So, I didn't want to lose something that meant so much by having it pinned somewhere, so I put it down the front of the brassiere. When Butch squeezed me and leaned me backward, the torture strapless bra threw my boobs up to my chin and smooshed the sharp leaves of the pin into the ta's. That was the moment the photographer took this picture.

We spent about 10 days on the island and towards the end of our HONEYMOON, I looked at my now husband, and realized that the one baseball cap he had been wearing the entire time of our HONEYMOON said.....

I'd Rather Be Racing!