Feeling Kinda Tarred...

It's been two weeks since our last post. Two very long weeks. When we last left off in October, the house looked like this: 

Then, after some handy dandy work by the concrete men, the house looked like this: 

And then after we wrote a check to said concrete men, our wallets looked like this: 

But fortunately, labor is free at the new house and P.C. and I decided to continue with the next step: tarring the walls. Saturday morning came bright and early (with a freeze warning, mind you) and we clothed ourselves in as many layers as we could and stepped out into the frozen tundra that had become our property. 

Note: I want to take a moment to explain what tar is. Think of really thick chocolate gravy that smells like burnt rubber and sticks to anything it touches. Remember this: it sticks to anything it touches. 

I began the morning by painting the tar on the concrete walls with a roller brush while P.C. dug some holes for some important drainage system that I didn't (and still don't) understand .  

(Note the black smear on my left cheek approximately 6 minutes after I had began painting)

P.C. joined in on the fun and pretty soon we were both hot, sweaty, and tarred pretty much from head to toe. By the time early afternoon had rolled around, we had tarred the east wall...

And all....

the way...

 around....

the house.

I make coveralls look sexy. I'm thinking of bringing them back. And the bulky mid-80's sweater.

After we finished tarring the walls (and attempted to wash our hands off with lacquer thinner because tar sticks to anything it touches), P.C. put pipes around the walls and began filling them in with gravel and dirt, while I stood around and watched and tried to look busy.

At 3:30 we called it quits and headed home. P.C. ran off to do some more manly man stuff around the house. I was hoping to catch a quick cat-nap and first decided to throw a load of laundry in the washer. More specific, I decided to wash the clothes from that morning.

Anybody know where this is going? 

(Clue: tar sticks to anything it touches)

This is a picture of what tar looks like on the inside of a washing machine. 

Needless to say, that nap never came.

What $900 Looks Like

This is rebar.

Hello, Mr. Rebar. Nice to meetcha!

The topic of rebar is not an unfamiliar one, as I married into an excavation family and dinnertime conversations at the in-laws usually center around machinery and construction and other foreign topics that I don't even try to understand. But seeing as I normally tune out such manly men discussions, I couldn't have told you what rebar actually was to save my life. The word could have meant anything, from a joist to a tool to [insert a fancy machinery term].

Raise your hand if you think rebar reminds you of a candy bar. Something chocolatey and caramely and ooey gooey with lots of nuts and some nougat thrown in. 

Mmm...nougat.

Rebar.

Nougat bar. 

I think I'm noticing the similarities. And getting hungry.

The day this load of rebar showed up on our property with a $900 price tag hanging off of it, I just about gave birth to kittens until P.C. explained to me the utmost importance that rebar (not nougat bar) plays in our home-building future. To put it in layman's term, this rebar is what holds the concrete frames together while they pour the foundation and walls. It basically keeps your house from looking like this: 

So on Sunday, while the weather was still nice and warm, P.C. and John spent the day smoothing out the land and preparing it for The Laying of the Rebar. 

By Monday night the concrete men (I'm sure there's an official name for them but I can't be bothered by such trivial things) began painstakingly placing the rebar into concrete footings. (Sorry for the poor picture quality; daylight was fading fast.

And then by Wednesday morning after a thunderstorm was completely diverted around the construction site, (thank you God!), the house looked like this:

Coming soon: The Walls!!!

A Really Big Hole

This is what the land looked like last night:

As of 11:15 this morning, this is what it now looks like:

We started off the ground breaking ceremony by re-measuring the area that the house will be located. 

Then we (I) brought up the backhoe and the digging began!

Don't I look good driving that?

The first scoop....

And the second...and the third

Mmm....I love me a man on a tractor

Especially when he's mine!

We took a break to check out the view from what will be the front porch.

Then Buster (Adam's nephew) and John (Adam's dad) showed up to do something manly that involved lasers and a lot of beeping. 

Then I looked up in the sky and this guy showed up: 

And then as the evening grew to a close, God showed up.

Amen.

The Plan

"We can make plans, but the Lord determines our steps"
-Proverbs 16:9 (NLT)

Last night we broke ground on the land (pictures to come soon!) and as we were wrapping things up for the evening, P.C. asked me while we were in the bathroom brushing our teeth, "Are we sure we want to do this?" At the time I had a mouthful of toothpaste and couldn't really answer him too well except by mumbling a sudsy "mm-hmm", but it got me thinking about all of the times I've made plans in life and God has had a totally different agenda for me. When P.C. and I got married, I wanted a bigger house. Right then. No. Matter. What. I struggled internally with what others had, and envied their situation in life. It took a long time for me to understand that God has a specific rhythm for our life and if we get too focused on our plans, we miss his timing, and life can turn bitter very quickly. As one devotion I read put it, "we are not flowing in his rhythm when we figure we can help God birth his promises with our own reasoning."
So before I revealed the blueprints for the house, I wanted to share that even though P.C. and I have painstakingly measured out step by step what the next year will consist of, God is the ultimate conductor of our orchestra. He plays the music and we dance to it.

So lets tango! Here is the floor plan of the new house. 

The stairwell from the laundry room goes down into a walk-out basement that will eventually be a garage/bedroom/bathroom/living area. For now will be P.C.'s man cave, complete with a four-wheeler, a trike, a wave runner, and too many r.c. airplanes to count!

The front view:

Think sage green, not army green. P.C. isn't completely sold on the color yet, but I'm sure he'll come around eventually.

And finally the top view:

Enjoy! (I know I will)