Remember when I said we were putting in our own pool? Update #1
The Locke Strouse Monster ~ or ~ notes from digging our own pool
Well, we're digging us a Cee-ment Pond.. well, actually it's an in-ground vinyl liner pool.. a completely unknown and alien item for the permitting gods downtown. So, because of that 'well, what the hell is that!?' factor, it set us back a bit. From the time we WANTED to build this oasis of sun and fun, which started about March, and by the time we got the clearance, vacations over with and labor lined up, here we are right in the middle of the first hurricane, Eduarrrrrrdo.
Saturday:
We got the front-end loader on Saturday and a friend of the family ran it all day long, dug this huge hole. And I got to lay out and not do any manual labor.. whew.. remember, I'm nearly 60 and sit on my butt day in and day out doing computer stuff.. The lady I rent from is basically a dynamo of physical activity.. a tad older in age than me, but far younger than me with her enthusiasm and activity and joy of life and "gettin' 'er done". Compared to her, I'm a total slug.. give me a book, some food and leave me alone, I'll roll over when my wrist goes to sleep from holding my head up and turning pages. Heck, I would drive to the door to get into the car.. and steps?? Uh, no thanks, I'll wait here for ya, or .. is there an elevator?
Sunday:
Anyway, Sunday slid in, sunny and bright! I was up and showered and here came all our help! We ended up with the original guy running the front-end loader and four other guys, the event creator (Linda, my landlady), and me! I escaped actual work by being a gopher.. go fer this and go fer that.. till the 'could you run and get me' needs ended with a squeal of brakes and, 'hey, can you help level this soil when we dump it into the front yard?' became the battle cry of the needy.. sigh.. ok, sure…
The main problem with the project became the total swamping of the big hole in the back yard from up-sweating of ground water. Every time we sucked that brown sludge-water out, it suddenly appeared again. I kept looking for floating caskets or at least a femur bone that would stop the project till the local news crews captured our amazing find had left, but no luck. We only found about 4 billion cinder blocks from the original building of the house, since we don't think the Seminoles actually used cinder blocks for their chikki huts when they settled the land originally, we figured it was the original builder.
So, I jumped into the hole with the guys, womanned a shovel and then a rake.
I quickly dissuaded myself from doing manly things like wiping my nose on my arm, flexing my biceps and tossing up a shovel-full of sand quite quickly for about three different reasons:
1) When I wiped my nose on my arm, it was full of sand and I immediately brought tears to my own eyes because of the sand-paper effect on my poor sunburned nosey!
2) I repeat, I'm nearly 60 years old.. there is NOTHING on my arm to flex.. I'm lucky I still have skin that supports my furniture body: my chest is sliding to my drawers and guess what else is following. And finally,
3) for me to toss up a shovel full of sandy clay, I realized, rather belatedly that I have to toss that crap up over six feet above me. After I heaved that shovel-full on up, and lost contact with the shovel and watched it disappear over the sand pile while the rest of the load landed on my head. I thought to myself.. Uh.. where is that rake again?
So, I leveled and tamped and was asked to make little meandering trails for the water to drain to the big hole they dug so they could dispatch the water from the hole. I stood big and tall like the Jolly Green Giant (HO-HO-HO), feet spread from land mass to land mass, thinking "This must be what it felt to create rivers and countries!" Feeling very 'superhuman-like' I then stepped back on a rock and nearly sat my butt right on the Liliputian little community I created and dammed up the drainage process with my personal personage.
I might at this juncture point out that I lost my flip flops (no, not steel-toed work boots, which was probably the recommended sort of footwear for this sort of enterprising project) when I jumped into the hole full of this mud, went ankle-deep, and tore my flop up as the huge sucking sound tore the toe part from the sole part of my shoe.. well, crap, I just threw that torn-up side and the still-good side up on the bank and said, "toss these puppies."
Monday:
I got up and cheerfully went to my computer job, where I was allowed to rest, except for crawling twice under the table to re-hook up a computer that had been altered and was now back in its 'oh, so handy' place where you have to crawl on rock-like ceramic tile on your knees.. (cast your mind back on my extremely advanced, but curiously adroit and limber age and cheerful disposition). But I wasn't shoveling or raking, was I? Life was good.
While I was living large at work, back at the ranch.. er, pool project.. Things were sort of going fine, except for the fact that we had three dominant, all-knowing men, who ended up moving parts of the dirt pile from one side of the yard, back to the pile, then to the other side of the yard, while Linda kept hearing the Ka-CHING of the 'by the hour' charge for the front-end loader, while Mo, Larry and Curley were deciding where to put the scoops, 'no, put it over there, no, we need it more over THERE..' I was thinking of bringing Linda an ice pack for her head, but saw that she already had one in the freezer for later ..
She has a picture - we'll have to block out the face for embarrassment reasons, not because he was nude - of the front end loader totally flipped nose-first in the yard because the driver miscalculated the load and the irregular ground. I think they caught the combined memorable facial expression wafting between shock, awe and fear, but sadly you won't be able to see that look because of the request for anonymity. We'll try to catch it again if it happens.. which we thoroughly expect will, several more times before the project is finished.
We are thinking of just leaving the hole this way, with the murky water and apprise our dates of it's location. We figure if they don't treat us right, we'll create several tires to look like some sort of heinous monster and let them know we DO allow our recalcitrant guests to try and outrun the Locke Strouse Monster.. more about that thought later.
More after the hurricane!
Bekki Shanklin, copyright 2006 from her "Thinkin' all the time" Series
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