March 23, 2009
Crapshack Devotees — meet the Craptruck. It’s stuck in Four-Low, and it takes a lot of duct tape to hold up the rust where the wheel wells once were. So it won’t exactly be used as our police chase vehicle.
But it runs! It starts right up and purrs like two thousand cats in simultaneous heat. And even better: it’s got an amazing extended cab with a bench seat, and the No Bullshit row of lights across the top, and it will be perfect for hauling crap up and down the logging trails. Plus, it’ll make for fine guest accommodations until the Crap GuestHouse is built. I’m only barely kidding– this beast is ROOMY. Bring your whole family. Then after a cozy night of sleep we’ll invite Wayne over for breakfast and thank him for the Craptruck.
What this photograph doesn’t reveal is that the Craptruck has not one, but TWO gas tanks, one of which leaks and is duct taped closed. I’m guessing that both of them are always thirsty.
Distance traveled: about three miles at a Four-Low snail’s pace.
How it got here: uh, in Four-Low, snail’s pace… while paranoiacally on the lookout for cops.
March 20, 2009
The Crapshack may not have any walls yet, and I have a feeling we’re far from having anything that can realistically be used as a roof (though apparently in a few weeks we’re going to be the owners of the world’s largest Wall Plate collection). At this point indoor plumbing is still a pipe dream (eh, ha ha), but we now have enough speaker wire and CAT-6 cable to ensure that the joint is wired to the guts. Wired and LOUD, which is just how we like it. There will probably be enough cable left over to use as clothesline, if we want to go full-bumpkin on the whole idea.
More likely, at some point we’ll have to attempt to resist the urge to strangle one another with it. You know how it goes.
Distance traveled: about a thousand long miles
How it got here: This, like the Nailgun, is from my very own dear-old-mother, who built her own house recently, although her house has some sort of crap repellent qualities. Which makes me wonder if maybe I was adopted, and should be using this precious internet space looking for my real (read: crap-loving) mother.
Note to my mother: please see the Note To My Mother on the Nailgun page for the requisite excuse to the above ingrate-ish behavior (xoxo).
Bonus: Friday Peepshow!
Here’s a view which we’re thinking might someday be the view out one of the front windows. See the little clearing at the bottom of the hill, way off in the distance? There’s a town down there.
March 18, 2009
We got us some windows, real beauties at that! These came from Erik, who sold us the land. Which initially made me a little suspicious, because I always thought Real Estate Agents were in the business of -selling- crap, not giving it away.
But here they are. One’s a big picture window, and the others are double-pane casement sorts. If we don’t get anything else — if this is the last crap we get — we can always stack these up house-of-cards style, and take turns squatting inside the resulting structure. Thanks, Erik.
Distance traveled: about five miles
How it got here: in the back of the bumpy truck. The picture window was too big for us to lay it flat in the bed of the truck, and we weren’t smart enough to bring any blankets or other cushioning for it.
So Scott had this brilliant idea of standing the thing up in the bed of the truck (I’m talking VERTICALLY) and rigging it that way with ratchet straps. Which seemed crazy: you simply don’t transport a window vertically unless you want the whole scene to end with Keanu Reeves riding a motorcycle through it. We later found out that Keanu was in Australia filming The Matrix Part Twelve at the time, which must be why we got it back safely.
March 17, 2009
We’re more or less rolling in tools– it’s really nothing short of amazing how Scott manages to come up with them. You can ask for some weird-ass thing, an etzbah ruler, and he’ll eagerly whip it off of some multi-tool on his belt. I can’t tell you how much I love this. But somewhere he’s got a damned tool to measure how much.
But one thing we didn’t have was this framing nailgun, which is as badass as it looks. Now, when we talk about wanting your crap, we’re really talking about crap you have no use for. And a nailgun seems awfully useful, and not at all crappy. But I suppose when the giver is your own mother, you don’t say no. And if you’ve ever tried to say no to my mother, you’d know this. Thank you mammi.
Distance traveled: a thousand miles
How it got here: we brought it up ourselves when we went to visit my family for Christmas. It rode in the back of the truck along with the thousands of other pieces of crap my mother plied on us.
Note to my mother: I’m just kidding! It’s a joke! We love every last thing you gave us and consider none of it crap! And while the fact that I have to joke about it is surely a sign of a deep and inherent insecurity on my part, please don’t think that my neurosis is a reflection of your parenting abilities. It has NOTHING TO DO with all those times you told me I wasn’t funny. (You see? That’s a joke too! Thank you for all the crap xoxoxoxo)
