No Going Back: Construction Update #1

I brush a cobweb from my hair and bag up remnants of old insulation bats.  They are damp from a week of rain and no roof.  I pull the trash bag behind me, through the shallow space, under what is left of the original house.  A giant spider scurries up a wooden post.  I pause to watch.

Last Picture of the Old House! 

After the frantic final boxing up of everything we own, the roof came off and the walls came down (courtesy of Heritage Timber), and we relocated into 200 square feet (?) of a school bus.  It seems sudden, but years of planning and saving might just be reality.

Decon in Process

There is no going back now.

We are a month and a half into our remodel/rebuild and the walls are going back up.  I dance around the a space that looked good on paper, and feels even better.

The walls of the Laundry Room, open space of the dining room, viewed from the kitchen.  

I'm wishing I had remembered to put on sunscreen. The tops of my feet are burning and the sandal strap tan I try and mitigate all summer long is a sure thing.

It is hot.

I score and snap apart another piece of blue foam insulation. It pops. It is satisfying. The insulation in old crawl space is finished and we puzzle the pieces of blue foam into the spaces between the first floor joists hanging from the new foundation.

The floor joist for the second story are being placed.

I call the plumber, touch base with the electrician.  "Walk me through this process", I say to the Northwestern Energy phone operator. A vision that started to take form, initially in a model constructed out of cereal boxes, and then was revised and revised and revised again in google sketch up, is taking form.

Piles of wood and metal, windows and doors, the claw foot tub, stashed away light fixtures and drawer pulls, the hand thrown sink I bought my first week in Missoula (long before I even owned a house) - a combination of found things, craigslist scores, warehouse sales, crazy road trip pick ups, work trades - are and will become a unified structure.

The kids ride bikes through the neighborhood.
They pick strawberries in the little bit of undisturbed yard.
They move between our yard and the neighbor's and down the street as we rebuild our house with a village behind us, a whole lot of faith, and a little crazy.

On the Road in our School Bus, Tiny House Adventure

I braid one thin braid after the other and secure the ends in a rainbow of hair bands carefully selected and organized. The motions seem like right of passage and it is officially summer break.

We are on the tail end of a whirlwind road trip, moving down the highway at moderate speed.  We took the converted school bus we are currently living all the way to Niagra-on-the-Lake and back.We are rolling along, somewhere between the east and west boundaries of South Dakota.

We cooked dinner while the day darkened and the stars emerged in the sky.

We drove and drove and drove as we put the jagged peaks of the rocky mountains behind us and the landscape became flat then then the plains grew to hills and mountains and water.  The lush green of a deciduous forest, ferns and flowers all around us. 

Somewhere along the way our bus gained a name - meet Alice.

The dense vegetation broken by ponds dotting the landscape, the intermittent water become vast and we skirt the edge of first one Great Lake and then another.  

We drive more and sleep less than should be possible.

As we get close to our destination we pass through, in the middle of the night, a city with the population of 2.7 Montanas and thousands of cars flow around us on the highway.  The traffic, and lights, and tall building fade behind us and we pull into our destination and sleep. 

When we wake, we are surrounded by family we haven’t seen in years, the maximum density of vineyards and wineries possible, the overarching branches of large trees, and a vast view of water.

Activity filled days (and nights)fly by. There are things to see, and taste, moments to savor, and stories to share.

Much too soon we start our journey home.

We have a little more driving time, but had hoped for even more.  

To circumvent Chicago, we drive our bus into the belly of the last operating coal fired steamship, the S.S. Badger and take a ferry, labeled as a US Highway, across Lake Michigan.

We play bingo, and both the children win. They watch a movie. We stand on deck, in the warmth of the smoke stack and can see no land. We sneak into the dark room and curl up in reclining chairs to sleep a few minutes in the flicker of a screen, before we keep driving west.

  

Adam tries to sleep as I drive us down small state highways, through quaint, quiet towns, past farms, and finally across the Mississippi River.

We smooth out the wrinkled, worn pages of the road atlas.  It has lost its cover and was shiny and new just 10 days ago. We trace the final few days of our journey. Ivory, has a pass available to all fourth graders, for free entry to all the National Parks.  Our first destination is the Badlands, then Wind Cave, Yellowstone and finally back home. 

"Dangerous Cliff - Keep Left"

We stand in vast landscapes that defy reason - above ground. 

Betty, our on board Jack Metcalf original, thinks the Badlands are Bad Ass!

We find ourselves in an equally mystifying landscape - under ground. 

We drive over one, and then two mountain passes.  

Here we catch catch glimpses of the space between. 

We can see from the space above to the space below. 

At 1:30 in the morning Adam pulls the bus to the curb of our house (lot?). Exhausted, and in need of showers, the bus is put in park and we drag ourselves to the back and crawl under the covers.

We slam into the routine of real life.

Adam heads to work before 8.

I stop by the gym for a quick shower and head to a day of solid meetings.

Ivory’s braids stay.