Thursday, June 20, 2013
Since the delivery that surprised even my contractor-friends ("Man, Scott... that's an awful lot of lumber"), I've been learning the fine art of shipbuilding.
Pirate-ship Building, to be exact.
I started with the base over Memorial Day weekend, but that was quickly rained out. I had the deck spars in place, but then had to get the hull wrapped or it would be too dangerous to leave alone. That led to the upper decking and railing... which opened up a whole can of worms with the gang plank.
And that can still hasn't been emptied.
Plus, (oh, there's more!) I had to rip out chain link fence across mine AND my neighbor's alley; and rebuild a new fence in its place.
And get poison ivy in the process.
I've learned to cut 68 degree angles (those don't exist on a 45 degree chop saw). I've hurled planks across the yard while unleashing very sailor-like tirades on everything from bent saw blades to mis-measured railings. I've learned a lot about splinters and where they can go... and a lot about myself. And where my ego should go.
Anyway... My son has a ship in the backyard. Some day, once I get all my real projects (re: paying) completed, we'll add in the slide, swings... and the rope swing.
Ah... the rope swing.
"But I neeeed a rope, Dad," he pleads, "so I can knock guys into the water!"
"I need water, too!"
It won't end anytime soon.
And I'm pretty pleased about that.