Tamping and the Electric Pole.

(Okay I kinda wrote this post before the backhoe tire was fixed, but then I forgot about it, and then I was all like, shit, I never posted that!? So here you go. A story from when we didn't have 20in of snow.) 

So today, we reached the dizzying high crest of 42 degrees. Shocking I know. So we decided it was finally time to finish tamping the dirt down around the electric pole we put in so that we could get electric service to the house.

Because you kinda need electricity.

Unless you are one of them back to the land hippie backwoods type folks that shun our modern convinces like plumbing and electricity because jobs are for squares man. Except I can't live like that because I want to enjoy Internet and pooping from within the comfort and safety of my own house. That's just what houses are for right? I mean, that's what separates the noble house from the proud yet scary looking cabin.

Anyway.

So we get our giant metal pry bars with the blunt ends that we use for tamping and go at. Since you know, the backhoe has a flat tire, and also the ground is so wet that we couldn't even ride I bicycle over there without sinking like a doomed ship. So we grabbed our pry bars a shovel, and our foolish optimism and started in.

Everything seemed great at first, but it quickly dawned on us that we just spearing glory holes* in the earth, which is the consistency of burnt pudding. So then I come up with the super brilliant idea of using a board to even out the force. So I found a board and threw it into the mud and wailed on it.

Which promptly broke the board in half.

So then Scott comes up the idea to use a better board. Which worked great. All we did was pivot the board around the pole in the circle while we lifted our huge heavy ass pry bars and brought them down over and over again onto the board.

Which we only had to do, oh twice all the way around and then again by going across so that the area didn't look like a giant pie tin after all the pie pieces had been taken out.

But we did it!

Except now my arms feel like noodles and I am really aware that I am resting my wrists on the keyboard and that makes me keep missing certain letters because my arms have given up on life man.

So I think I am going to take some pain killers and go to bed drink alcohol and surf the Internet like a mindless worker bee until it's late enough to go to bed and not feel like a boring person.

So, good night dear readers, even though I shall not post till morning, never doubt that I love you. (In a totally platonic way of course.**)

*Yes I know what this means. Yes I went there. If you do not know what this means, for the love of all that is holy, DO NOT Google it. No. Don't. Trust me.

** Please don't stalk and murder me.

Optimistic Success and an Electric Pole.

Following our amazing suspicious day of productivity, we had decided to treat the pole with wood preserver first thing and then go to Lowes to get the supplies we would need to set the pole in the ground, come back and set the pole. Oh and also stop by my aunts to give her some stuff she needed for the Woodsmith, oh and stop by that crazy discount food place with all the dented shit and get some more cheese.

What's that you say, we were being wildly optimistic? It can't be done? Read on, dear reader.

So I get up early and feed the animals and take the dog for a walk and then put in some laundry and then we are ready to began.

First off we roll the electric pole onto some wood blocks to keep it up off the ground, and then we gather our supplies and paint on the wood preserver while trying not to breath in. This is also where Holly learned an important lesson called, 'why you should have bought those knee pads when you had the chance.' Yeah, so maybe we had to wait for the sun to burn off some of the frost on the pole before starting in, but you know what the sun did not do?

If you answered, unthaw the frozen ass hard as marble ground, you'd be right!

My left knee may never forgive me.

So we painted on the wood preserver changed clothes, hopped in the car and set off for phase 1.5. So we get to aunt and uncles house and it turns out they are both home and so we get to talking and then we have some tea and then my aunt reveals she has some homemade pumpkin bread we can eat and then we get to telling stories and then Scott and my Uncle start to look through the Woodsmith manual and then it's like noon thirty.

Of course then we have to say our goodbyes and hop back in the car and drive off to Lowes for part 2. Every trip to Lowes is like a game. More specifically, like a scavenger hunt. Rule number one, sections are kinda sorta labeled, but they will not contain everything you would think would go there. Rule number two is that if you are going with a man, you are never allowed to ask an employee because that would mean admitting defeat. The only exception to this rule is if you split up, then you are allowed to hunt down in employee, but the two of you will arrive just as the man you are with has found the section and then he will have to pretend he does not know you to save his manliness. Rule number three is that you will always be on a time limit when you go, to add excitement/stress. Rule number four is that you will never, no matter how hard you try, understand which lanes are for the flat cart things and which are not. I shun you contractor checkout.

So after playing the Lowes game we went on to part 2.5, and went to the crazy cheap food store and then drove home. It was about oh, three in the afternoon. So I threw a sandwich and tea in my face and then went outside to tackle that pole.

First off, we had to tie it to the backhoe in such a way that we could take it down the road. Our only solution was to tie it to the bucket, and then tie one end to the side, so it looked like the backhoe was about to go jousting with a telephone pole.*

Then I wrapped a chain around the front end to stabilize the whole thing and off we went. If you are wondering that that is like, it was like walking the biggest dog ever. Or possibly a dinosaur.

Well, we got it over there safe and sound and then unhooked it. Then we filled the bottom of the hole, which was already filled with water because it's fucking wet here, with gravel and sand. Then we struggled and cursed and yelled and fought the goddamn pole onto the bucket and after a botched first attempt that made us accuse each other of not doing it right, we got the end in the hole and there was much fucking rejoicing.

Then we chained it to the bucket to keep it from crushing something, and niggled the backhoe around until the pole was upright and level. Mostly level, anyway. Then we set to filling in the hole. Looking up, I could see the sun had slipped behind the trees on the ridge, and that the sky was taking on that pale gray of a winter evening. Oh boy.

We commenced shoveling. I got rocks and threw them in the hole around the pole and then we shoveled in dirt. It got darker. We shoveled in more dirt and rocks. I managed to hit my head on the backhoe bucket. It got really kinda a lot dark. Like, oh hey, there is the moon dark. Then we poured in two bags of Quickcrete next to the pole, and the shoveled some more dirt around it.

By the time we were ready to place in the last bag, the night was coming in. You know that point where if you are standing out in a field it is still light enough to see, but the trees and forests and buildings are just pitch black holes against a deep blue black sky?

Yeah, we were at that point.

So in the almost but not quite dark we shoveled on enough earth to cover the Quickcrete and then cleaned up our tools. And by cleaned up our tools, I mean we threw everything onto the porch of the second mobile home, crawled back inside the livable mobile home and collapsed.

Sometimes I wonder about us. Do normal people try to cram two and three days into one day? Is this just us? Are we crazy?

The world may never know.

*You know what the Olympics needs? Backhoe telephone pole jousting. Get on that, people who decide what goes into the Olympics. Get on that.