You Know You're Taking Too Long to Build Your House When...

...you're starting to have to replace tools because they're wearing out and dying. It was one thing when I decided to buy some new chisels because I had sharpened the old ones so many times I felt I couldn't get a true edge on them any more. The other day, though, my air compressor died. I had set everything up to start installing another row of shingles. Just at the moment that the compressor should have been fully pressurized and turned itself off, I heard a loud, continuous "PFFFFFTT" instead. The compressor just suddenly stopped being able to regulate itself. The pressure would build and build and build until the relief valve blew. Nothing I tried worked. Pretty quickly, I decided to take the compressor for repair. I looked through my records for when I had had the lower relief valve replaced on the unit--and it turns out it was two years ago! I have owned this compressor for five years. Of course, I expect my tools to last forever. Just doesn't work that way.

The repair guy said the repair would cost $110. A new compressor costs $130. So...
I bought a new compressor yesterday. Today I'm back installing shingles.

Proudly Non-compliant

A few weeks ago, I had a doctor call me a "non-compliant patient." (He wanted to repeat a diagnostic screening that I've had a gazillion times already and find to be a waste of time and not very helpful, so I declined it.) He was trying to label me non-compliant in a somewhat humorous way, in order to lighten the exchange, but the obvious implication was that to be non-compliant is a "bad" thing. I've thought a lot about this exchange since then...

I would hate to think that anyone would ever say about me--either now or when my life is over: "She was always compliant." Phooey on that! I really can't see the point of mindlessly going along to get along. When it comes to my own life and health, I form my own opinions and I set my own goals. If something does not make sense to me, I really don't care how many other people have done the conventional/common/routine thing. I'll chart my own course, thank you very much. When I conceived of a plan to build a wooden raft and live on it in the Kennebec River with my son as a way of having an adventurous summer vacation, and others expressed all kinds of doubts and concerns, I didn't give up the dream. Instead, I doubled-down on the planning. (We had so much fun, we repeated the adventure four additional summers before he went off to college!) When I excitedly told a man I was dating that I was going to build my own house, and he replied with "You can't do that!," I didn't fold and accept his opinion. (I saw it as a huge red flag that that relationship was not going to last.) When others thought it was foolish of me to walk away from a job that was using me up (and I thought was going to be the end of me) at my advanced age :-) and without another job all lined up, I did what I needed to do anyway. (Best decision! I've been so much healthier in all kinds of ways since.) It's that same part of me that is building the JayBee--even though this is not the conventional way of acquiring a new home, even though it is hard work, even though I have to figure out what I'm doing each step of the way. I wouldn't have it any other way. I am quite proudly non-compliant!

...

For those who are interested in life on the river...

Here is a photo of me on a walk looking back up my driveway. Can't see anything?

Here; I'll zoom in. George may be too lazy to walk with me, but he is still keeping watch from the driveway.

I picked up a stick to help me get safely down the banking to the river's edge. Once I was down the hillside, I realized the stick had been gnawed off by a beaver. A beaver stick!

An early sign of autumn.

Late summer/fall flowers along the river.

Various late summer and early fall river shots...

This may look like a simple river shot...

Zoomed in, though: See the soaring bald eagle I was watching?

Here's another shot.

And zoomed in.

One more.

Zoomed in; two eagles dancing.

Back from my walk that one day...and George is still on lookout duty.

A rare moment of peace between these two.

George--all done in.

Siding (North Wall) 11

Well, I lost momentum there for awhile...busy work weeks, rain making the north hillside wet, visiting with family over Labor Day weekend, blah, blah, blah...

I did spend a bunch of time doing things that were important to the house project, but not very photo-worthy--bending over hundreds of staples on the inside of the house, caulking around the exterior of windows (a job I loathe), etc.

Finally, I returned to shingling the north side of the house. By constantly moving ladders around and...

...using some makeshift staging...

I got another row of shingles installed.

And, then, another one.

It's wet out there again, so I'm back to working on other things!

Also see:
Siding (North Wall) 1
Siding (North Wall) 2
Siding (North Wall) 3
Siding (North Wall) 4
Siding (North Wall) 5
Siding (North Wall) 6
Siding (North Wall) 7
Siding (North Wall) 8
Siding (North Wall) 9
Siding (North Wall) 10
Siding (North Wall) 11
Siding (North Wall) 12
Siding (North Wall) 13
Siding (North Wall) 14
Siding (North Wall) 15


A couple of days ago, my eyes were drawn to this patch of bright fluorescent orange/pink on the grass to the east of the JayBee. It looked like someone had spray-painted a spot on the grass. Since I had done no such thing, I was puzzled. When I touched it with my foot, I realized it wasn't paint.

When I turned around, I discovered that somehow light was refracting through this reflector and onto the ground. If you look closely, you can see the spot on the grass, even from this angle. Odd.