Guacamole, Daylight & Friends: Pleasure

Sherry's "finishing her chapter" before we go to bed (there must be only two chapters in that book). So I hopped on the computer to read Faye's blog I noticed her working on the other day. There were in fact two posts. I also read Rachel's, and now I feel compelled to write my own.

I suppose a lot has changed since I was house shopping with Sherry last year. I don't know how much time I have to write this blog; Sherry could, after all, decide to get tired and not finish the book, I mean chapter. So what to include? Let me start with now and work backwards.

Right now, I just finished working on a Roof Material Estimating Calculations module. I'm in my 2nd year Carpentry apprenticeship 8 weeks of school. I just finished week 4. In 4 weeks I must return to work. Return to what work? Well, I'll probably go back to framing with Kyle - well probably not directly any more. I'll be running a crew now. Is this exciting news? Well, not really. In many ways it's disappointing. I'm still framing. It feels like the necessary denouement to my framing career. I've 'run things' while Kyle's been on vacation. But now it will be running things all the time. It scares me, because there are often bad things that arise while framing, and they are stressful to work around. You encounter other people's mistakes and have to compensate. You make mistakes and have to fix them. Your crew makes mistakes and you have to have them fix them. These sorts of things happen all too often and steal all the fun out of work. Then comes the complicated problem-solving opportunities that I always seem to take too much time thinking through. Mainly they go something like:

1. Don't screw this up like that other time Nolan

2. Hmm what if I did it like this?

3. But what about...

4. Agh this is taking too long and I'll screw it up even after all this deliberation - just do it!

Yes, often those were all vocalized - just to make sure I look crazy.

Then comes the tools-not-working setbacks and the weather wreaking havoc.

And it becomes oh so difficult to focus with all the mental multi-tasking of directing and teaching other people and trying to coordinate tasks efficiently, while making sure we have the right materials.

So, can I do it?

God I hope so. If only until November.

It will be good, it will be another step in 'growing up'.

Growing up, by the way, has come to mean attaining the right to say, "yes I can do that."

To honestly say those words, usually involves having struggled to learn how to do that once already, and succeeded.

Back to the disappointing part. I don't feel very fulfilled building houses that don't measure up to the potential I've discovered they can be. I'm not saying I only want to build million dollar houses. I'm saying I want to build sustainably. Sadly I will be working on Sable houses. Maybe that's necessary. Maybe it's better this way. It might be good to learn how to run a crew while working on quick and easy cookie cutters. In the future, when the economy picks up and Builders are looking for crews, I can slide over to working with a Jayman or an Avalon on Built Green houses. But that doesn't seem likely. I have fingers that have degenerated into miserable imposters for Canadian-raised appendages. I can't frame in the winter.

That's not a bad thing, because there are so many other pieces to building a house that I want to learn. Owning a house has only accelerated that need. Everywhere I look I now wish I could say, "I can do that."

If I didn't have quite so loyal a personality, I would just go find jobs in all the various trades for 3 months to get a basic understanding of each. Except that even if my loyalty didn't suck me into 6 year stretches, my quest for excellence in craft would.

Home renovations are intimidating. We have a tight budget (even if we didn't I'd still be shrewd and forever looking for more bang for my buck) and I have lofty ambitions. This generates the "all labour by me" factor in the equation. Which you might connect from the long ramble before this, will translate into stress as I fumble my way through the learning curve, and a gigantic magnet for the sucker in me who wants to find out how to excavate down to the footing, cut holes into the foundation, throw 4-7" of EPS foam on the exterior, enclose the chimney piping, move, expand, create, and replace windows and doors, complete with drywall and casing work, remove, trim and reattach soffit, install Hardi-plank siding, have an HRV system installed, finish the ceiling and top rim of a shower, install insulation stops in the roof, add more ceiling insulation, redo attic accesses that will properly seal air tight, build terraced window wells, engage in faux-painting techniques and finish in time to get busy on the yard work I have planned: Plant a few trees, build raised garden beds, and an elaborate garden. Then I'll rest up until I feel the need to frame in a closet in the bedroom downstairs and install cork flooring in the basement and the upper bedrooms, and pour a stamped concrete patio in the back, with a stone wall maybe.

So, call me slightly ambitious, or stupid.

I continue to get more and more complicated with my eating and cooking habits. I'm slightly ambitious in my quest for delicious and healthy food too. I'll save you the list though.

I've left behind past ambitions. I haven't gone skiing once yet, and haven't made any plans to do so. I haven't been climbing in almost a year. I never started dance lessons. I've lost old disciplines. I don't work out. I don't read the bible. No lectio divinas.

My Mom has cancer, and before Christmas I'd cry every day and pray for her. 2010, it's almost set into being normal, but every few days it will still hit me. My goal is to see her once a week, and even that feels weak.

Most of the time it feels like I'm trying my best. I still look for and appreciate wonderful things. Guacamole, daylight, an evening with friends. I'm quite sure it's those beautiful tastes, sights, and connections that keep life abundant. God deserves a lot of thanks. Sometimes I remember how it's easier than I think to be close to him. Other times all I can find is how hard it is to pin him down on demand.

His love is unfailing, and mine is persevering.