As we watched the purple semi truck come rumbling down our road and make it's way to the entrance of our driveway early Saturday morning, we knew that our day of reckoning was finally here. After months of talking about it, then planning it, followed by clearing the land and ordering the structure, the building materials for our studio/showroom were actually showing up at Blooming Hill's doorstep and now the real fun was about to begin. It seemed entirely appropriate, as well, that the new building would arrive in style, no less, than on the back of, what else?...a lavender truck. I believe it was providential, indeed!
The wood was neatly bound into huge rectangular packs and the first thing the trucker asked was, "Where is your forklift?" with a Lucy, you got some splainin' to do look on his face. "Well, see...that's the thing, we are the forklift, so to speak," answered Peter. "Well come on up and open these packs. We'll lift them down," he said with a shake of his head and a grin on his face. Thank goodness for good-natured truckers!
Now, the task of unloading the thing would prove to be a big job but not as daunting as it first seemed with the likes and strong muscles of Kevin and our neighbor's son, Ryan McKenna, as well as the welcomed assistance of his parents, Joyce and Joe. Even the trucker himself get into the rhythm of removing each board, piece by piece, off of the long flatbed. It seemed as though we had a pretty good system going with Peter unstrapping and opening up the tightly packed piles.. Then, he and the trucker lifted them down, piece by piece again, to the next person waiting in line. Whether it was a small window box or a stack of sixteen-foot long tongue and groove planks, being painstakingly carried to their final destination up the driveway, it seemed to me as though the unloading would never end. I kept looking up at the flatbed as each pile was completed and there always seemed to be another load of wood eager to take the previous pack's place...go figure!
An hour and a half later, the flatbed was finally unloaded and the trucker, and his wife, who steadfastly remained in the truck so as not to get recruited in the transportation of wooden objects, bid us adieu and Joyce, my ever-so-thoughtful and kind neighbor even provided lunch for all of us as well. So, after the photo session around the McKenna's John Deere Tractor, we retired to my kitchen for delicious and hearty "sloppy joes." Is it nap time yet?...
Well, nap time never came for Peter who then went down and reorganized the wood. Each piece is marked by the company with red, green and yellow dots as well as clear writing instructions at the end of each board explaining as to where it should be placed when constructing the building. "This should be easy," remarked Kevin, "Just like Legos!" Of course, he then went in to finish and send in a genetics paper that was due by 4:00pm.on Saturday proving, once again, that there is no free lunch in life, even during your spring break home from college. I'm thinking that compared to a genetics assignment, anything should look easy however, it might also be a little like Legos, too.
Peter spent a good part of Sunday morning taking stock of everything, including the new nail gun he got for Christmas and a borrowed compressor on loan from yet another neighbor--we have very nice neighbors-- as well as the right kind of nails to use in order to construct our new "Legos-for-grownups--structure." At lunch, time he announced to Kevin and me, "Don't spill a thing on these directions! They are color-coded, too." Frantic, I put the mustard and catchup back into the fridge as quickly and carefully as possible.
By late afternoon on Sunday, the floor of the studio was already beginning to take shape. Maybe it is a little like Legos. Let's hope a lot sturdier and maybe not so colorful when it's all finished and we are ready to open. I'll keep you posted on our progress as it takes shape, board by board and dot by dot.
So, that's what we did over the last weekend of February. What did you do? Here's hoping that March comes in like a lamb and decides to stay that way, too.