Hustle Time

Over the summer, we've named the major buildings on the island. Besides the obvious Outhouse, there's The Shed and The Shack. Well, ok, that's it. There's not much more there, except the wood piles.

Anyway, The Old Shed is down (now called the Wood Pile North), and The New Shed is up. We've decided to move The Shack forward more, closer to the water, but that's mostly next season's project. Meanwhile, remember those holes Steve dug earlier in the summer? Well, we've poured concrete in them, ready for the foundation of The New Shack.

Yesterday we loaded the barge and brought the old stove and a bunch of other assorted crap that couldn't burn to the dock, unloaded it onto the truck and hauled it away.

Reversing the order, we brought onto the island via a return trip the concrete bags, 6x6 posts, assorted tools, and I can't remember what all else, I was so beat. Steven's a crabby boss, and the pay sucks.

Other people at the dock usually look at us on our barge oddly, but they're too polite to voice their curiousity about the random assortment of flotsam and jetsam we surround ourselves with. Whereas other party boats hold better dressed people and beer, we look like a couple of old hoboes who've gone dumpster diving along the shore. There are only a couple of islands on the lake, and right now we're the only ones doing any work, so people undoubtedly aren't thinking along those lines. But I can still see their unspoken questions as to where the heck we got, and where the heck we're going, with all that crap. Couple of more forward people will inquire how the fishing is. Just for laughs, Steve simply says we weren't fishing, just "out on the lake". I smile, but never offer an answer. Just as with magic tricks, reality isn't as interesting as imagination.

But yesterday was the best. A group of about 5 older guys, all dressed chips ahoy, were taking a beautiful wood boat out of the water while I was sitting docked, surrounded by the detritus of the former owner's, and now my, life. This was their boat's maiden voyage after a summer-long restoration, and the contrast couldn't be more appalling. But they held their collective tongue.

Steven whispered that I should show some leg, and maybe they'd give me a hand hauling. But 1. maybe he didn't remember what my legs look like, and 2. they were all reaching for the hand sanitizer.

I never offered. My leg or an explanation. But just wait till they see the fridge coming ashore!

Plastic drifts onto the Island

Well, not exactly. We brought it on. Deliberately. The days are getting shorter, and there are a few projects we need to button up before winter.

There are three structures on the island: the shed, the shack, and the outhouse. And then there's the woodpile. Every week we find yet another piece of the shed and/or shack on the ground and relegate it to the wood pile. The shed is actually pulling away from the shack, to which it's attached. Or is it vice-versa? We don't know if one is actually holding up the other, or which one, or if they're co-dependent, but they're doing a pretty bad job of it in any case. And since all our tools, gadgets and gizmos are stored in one of those two, we have to "do something about it", as Steve would say.

So in the interest of time, last night we bought a Rubbermaid garden shed plus other wood stuff needed to stand it on, piled it all on the pontoon boat (work boat, party boat, barge, deck, or dining room, depending on what we're using it for) and hauled it out to the island to assemble.

It should be done tomorrow. I'm so ashamed, so very ashamed...

Hot Sh-t!

Was reading bio of Art Rouse, publisher of Trailer Life & Motorhome mags. There's a pic of a prototype self-contained toilet called -- no kidding -- "The Destroilet" -- which attempted to dispose of sewage by incinerating with propane flames!

Whoa! Better know which is the "flush" button!

I'm baaaaccckkkkkkk!!!

Apropos of nothing: Our electic bill at the rink went up 40% compared to last year, so I called the power company to determine the problem: bad meter, old applicance, etc.

She cheerfully told me it was because of two things: additional kw usage ( I get that -- it's been hot and business has been better this year than last) and the large rise in kw hour cost due to increased demand! It happens every summer, she said, but is already starting to come down now.

So I got to thinking: as I sit swinging on the island, my mind, if not my body, is still in motion. Sometimes I think it would be cool if we opened an ice cream stand on the island. It would be a destination for boaters, and just a cute idea. (But then I come to my senses: nah, it would end up too much like another job)

Still, if I were an ice cream vendor, and we had a really hot summer, I'd sell 40% more ice cream and be thrilled with the increase in sales & profit. But I wouldn't raise my prices 40% and then sell more ice cream! The customers would revolt and get their ice cream elsewhere.

Problem is, we don't have another power vendor to go to.

Good Night and Good Luck

OK, so with weeks going by and no new posts, it occurs to me that it's because sitting on an island watching grass grow is about as exciting as, well, watching paint dry. (Sorry for the mixed metaphors.) All in all, nothing really happening. Well, it's happening, but in sloooowwww-mo. So I'll say "bye" for now on this subject. Really want to do the landlord blog some time soon...

The Deadly Duo

Steve & I are The Deadly Duo. Sort of like superheroes in reverse. We feed off each others' visions, both feel the need to make things right -- right being the way we think they should be. And it all creates more work.

Heaving rocks, mind drifting, he would kill me if he knew what I was thinking (so I dare not say it out loud), because then it would become part of his vision, and already, without lifting a finger, it would become another project in his eyes, and he wouldn't rest until it became reality.

....I don't see myself scrambling up this dock in 10 years. He's still enjoying hauling the boat around, but I'd be happier if we didn't have to, and it's only mid-summer. Ditto planning lunch, getting ice, blah, blah. Love the island, but I'd rather have a more permanant situation where we can live all summer, and not need a boat to get to work. But he's tired of paying all those land taxes. There's a property with two little summer cabins on the lake for sale. Maybe we could rent one in summer just to make up the tax money. Look at the pix. Good location, but (here's the kicker) they need work!

OMG! Please let me shut my mouth! At least until November, when prices will be lower...

On the Rocks

Piling stone upon stone is a very zen experience. My mind gets to wander while I'm doing that repetitive thing. It's best not to look up too much, just fling rocks underhand at the shore, or I'll realize just how much there still is to bulwark. I've found it's best to focus on just one tree, and plan on reaching and surrounding that tree with rocks. So as I move from one outcropping to another, in a very real sense I'm saving the trees. Which is where my mind starts to wander...

As opposed to piling rocks around a tree to save it and the shoreline, buying carbon offsets sounds like a first cousin to buying indulgences, which sounds similar to "adopting" an overseas orphan, or naming a star. All those are bought with money, and are intangible and unprovable. As I'm heaving rocks, I visualize W.C. Fields with this stack of pictures of trees at different stages: sapling, one year old, five years old, etc., and his mailing list: "Send this sucker his 2-year old tree picture". Or kids: "Send that sucker his 5 year old orphan picture." And stars: "Sure, your star is 'officially' named. Can't see it with the naked eye? Too bad. Can I interest you in a telescope?"

Meanwhile, I've done about 80' of shoreline already. And you can touch the trees.