Belly Floppin'

I don't think it will come as a surprise to anyone that I was a husky child. Equally predictable, I was a husky baby,  husky toddler, husky adolescent and husky everything-else-you-can-be before I became a husky man. Also, as a 10-year-old I may have owned a pair of black, tastefully acid washed, Husky brand jeans to really showboat my status. That same year, I came to the realization that the "big diving board" at the public pool was often left quaking from the aftershock of my slow-motion, ungainly, 3/4 rotation flips into the deep end, even after I came up for air. Not wanting to be "that kid", I eventually took ownership of my ability to put some serious flippety-flop on the "big diving board" and owned it. No, I didn't have the most graceful swan dive, a tightly tucked double front flip routine, or even an impressive can-opener; but, I had the belly-flop on lock down (and when I busted it out, heads turned).

Today, I felt like I was back at the pool, mid-way between the board and the water in that last split-second of hang time where you finally have to commit to your dive. If you're scratching your head over the metaphor, I'm trying to describe the major leap (belly flop) I took yesterday regarding my "career" at the Museum. I've already launched myself off the board (told the boss I was quitting), but haven't felt the sting (repercussions of long term unemployment) of the landing yet. Basically, I'm still waiting to feel the smack of the water, maybe it will sting a little; but, for the time being, I'm going to crush this belly-flop and turn some heads.

On to business, the heavy snowfall (link to Brinn's snowday blog post) from earlier in the week being completely thawed and mostly dried out, I went to town on the 'Castle Coop. The roof is going to have an off-centered ridge line and differing slopes to optimize functionality. It looks awkward in the photos right now, but it is going to look super cool when everything is filled in and tied together. Some photographic documentation:

Most of the walls are up. You can see the clapboard action from this angle, looking through the doorway. The back wall is just planks, no clapboard, as it will be mostly obscured by the rabbit hutches and facing a row of bushes once installed.

Trim pieces will cover the corners to tidy everything up and pull it all together. It always looks a little haphazard and disheveled until the trim starts going up; at which point, everything takes on a more purposeful, intentional, stylized look. It's a very cool thing to behold.

The triangular deals are called "trusses". They make the roof. I built one, tested the fit, then built three more the exact same way. Here they are being tied together by the "purlins", which are the horizontal boards that the shingles will be fastened to.

Another angle, the old T-Square is an invaluable resource at times like these. In the old days, a framer did just about everything with a square and compass. The square was called a "try square", because you just kept trying, shaping or adjusting until the square fit snugly in the corner. You can't argue with the results.

The long side of the roof still needs 3-4 purlins. The overhang will be soffited in (it's gonna look slick). The window will get some blanks to fill in the empty side space, which will be covered by trim work. The gables (triangular area going up to the roof) will be filled in, and the hutches will go under the protruding eve on the backside. There will be some cool, angled partition type deals to tie the long eve in with the rest of the building, you just have to wait and see. It's all going to balance out.

We're just over the hump on this build, the head-scratchey work is done, the rest is downhill. Stay tuned for the completion and delivery (remind me to take 2 Aleve for all day relief that day) of the 'Castle Coop.

-F.W.

P.S., I'm not a serial job quitter. I was informed on our first day back that the Museum cut our hours to skirt compliance with an ObamaCare requirement that 32-hour-per-week employees receive medical benefits. I was putting in the time (and taking a tremendous pay cut) to be in position for the next career opportunity available at the Museum. At this point, I see the writing on the wall. No hard feelings, but I am going to bet on myself for a little while.