13 June 2011

Woke up at crack of dawn with the realization that (1) one end of the auxiliary storage area roof was not adequately braced and (2) the forms for the garage threshold were in the wrong place.  By 6:30 was busy sawing, digging, and swearing as I worked feverishly to correct those problems.  At the stroke of 7 called Carrara Concrete, whose dispatcher answered on the first ring.  Seven yards of concrete at 9 o’clock?  No problem!  Beat feet to Taylor Rental to retrieve their 8 foot concrete vibrator.  Back to Fern Lake by 7:45 to continue the garage threshold relocation task that was not going as smoothly as desired.  Shortly after 8 Jeff Parent, his son (Sam), and his uncle (Ed) (nepotism being ripe at Parent Construction) arrived with their concrete pumper. Josh LaFlam, Stephanie Sturtevant, and Dylan Cobden arrived right on time at 8:30.  They were put straight to work finalizing the fixing of the threshold forms.  The $%#@^!! concrete truck arrived seven minutes later! Marty heard the noise and came right up, too.  (If you’ve been keeping track, that made 8 people for the crew… 7½ if you count the fact that Jeff was nursing a broken ankle.)  By 9 o’clock sharp (in theory) all was ready to start pumping concrete.  A half hour later, having cleared a blocked section of hose, we started putting 4,500 psi mix in the forms, with fingers so crossed they hurt that the unbraced stone walls wouldn’t come tumbling down.  The first 2½ foot lift caused no problems!  Praise Allah and pass the scotch!  We then tackled the underground roof. That pour went so smoothly it was terrifying… until Jeff pointed out that the north side of the form (the only side that will be visible once the roof is in place) was severely bowed because somebody (that would be me) didn’t properly brace that side.  The other three sides (that will be buried) are straight as an arrow, of course.  Actually, that bow in the north side is going to add a very nice artistic touch to the roof’s appearance, but I’d be lying if I said that was part of the plan.  Unbidden, Stephanie showed that she is an absolute ace with a steel finishing trowel, smoothing the roof’s top surface (that will be buried) to absolute perfection.  She’s a keepa!  Her secret, she says, is having three brothers.  So then we waited, and waited, and waited some more for the first lift of concrete to take an initial set so that it would support the weight of a second lift, thereby minimizing pressure on the forms and (more importantly) rock walls.  An hour plus later, the last section we had poured as part of the first lift tested ready, with the first section poured testing least ready.  Go figure!  The mix had been in the truck more than three hours at this point, so the second lift took an initial set almost immediately.  Great!  On to the third (and final) lift.  Not quite halfway through placing that lift we ran out of concrete! Gaack!  No, make that double gaack!!!!!  Some quick calculations showed we needed another yard plus some.  Ordered two!  An hour later a second Carrara mixer arrived, so we continued the pour.  Finished all the rock wall sections (with no damage to the rock walls), the auxiliary storage area walls and roof (with a moderate blow-out on the exterior side of the north wall where somebody (that would be me) neglected to put a piece of bracing, and the garage threshold, with plenty of concrete still in the mixer.  Quickly removed some of the auxiliary storage area form bracing and pumped as much concrete as we could into what will be the floor for that area, then sent Josh into the hole (what, do I look stupid?!?!) to smooth out the mess.  Still had a quarter yard on the truck that, unfortunately, now resides alongside the driveway in a rather unsightly pile. Meanwhile, Ed showed me, then I showed Stephanie, how to sculpt a proper garage threshold.  For a bunch of amateurs, Stephanie said the result came out pretty f-ing good.  I more than agree.  By 3:15 the crew was paid off and gone.  Lunchtime!  Then took another 400 mg ibuprofen and dragged what was left of myself up to Taylor to return the vibrator.  The rest, as they say, is history… though I will tell you that the scotch tastes REALLY good tonight, out by the campfire... where the predicted rain showers have finally arrived, but I just don’t care!