Destruction of the past

[intriguess]

Tearing down the house I spent my childhood in was the best decision I had ever made. I spread out the blue prints and went over them one last time with the architect and he said everything looked fine and that as soon as the old house had been removed we could start building. That's when I spread out the plans for my studio space, he smiled and said he figured I had something up my sleeve and said he'd have to take a look over them and asked if I knew where I wanted to put it. I told him it would go where the old barn had gone to the East of the house on the other side of the drive. He took the plans and said he would check out the site tomorrow and if everything was okay he would see if they could be building it while the house was being torn down.

I smiled and said I would meet him at the site the next day.

I drove to the old farmhouse zipping along the gravel road and pulled into the pebbled drive. There was an unusual truck already waiting and I pulled in and got out looking at the old place before spotting a youngish looking man scouting out the studio site.

I wondered who the heck he was and was a little annoyed as he introduced himself and said that he was taking over the project.

 

[intriguess]

just a little bump

 

[Zircon]

Bobbie Brick

With a name like Bob Brick and my occupation of being a Renovator and Contractor, it would seem natural that I was made fun of all the time. And it would not be far off from truth, ever since I was in grade school. My hair was a bit reddish, and my brown eyes gave the impression that I was colored like a kiln-fired brick. My dad would sometimes come pick me after school, still in his overalls, the ever-present measuring tape clipped to his belt and a truck-load of bricks. As soon as I got my bike, I did not want him to pick me up again. Most of the time he laughed, and said that I should be proud of my name.

“…Bob, can you fix it?…” was the song that stuck in my mind for a long time. And I had a love-hate relationship with that song.

It was not surprising that I reluctantly entered into a partnership with my father in the family business after graduating from college. It was a natural progression from hammering and the much-hated job of installing insulation to being the boss, the supervisor on job sites. The job name might have changed but the work remained the same, only difference was that I was also responsible for purchasing as well. My truck, a rickety 1970 Ford pickup, bore testimony to the mileage being traversed each day. And now that most people in my line of work have moved away from using mineral wool to Polyurethane (PU) as insulation, there were not many opportunities left to shout at high school kids. (After a full day of dealing with mineral wool, even after three baths, the entire body will still itch, and inevitably those kids frequently did not show up for work the next day).

One good thing about my job was the fact that I do not have to wear a nice shirt, tie and a jacket like those in the bank. Jeans and a clean t-shirt for the entire week was my norm. The hard-hat was part of my uniform, but that did not bother me as much as it did my dad. The steel-toe safety boots was well worn, so it was comfortable as well.

The old house had stood there for as long as I could remember. It was built solid, like houses of old. Termites and old age were it’s greatest enemy, and eventually through years of assault, it would finally succumb. I thought that the old house still have some more years to go before the timbers gave way. The new owner did not share my thoughts however, and since she was the paymaster on this job, she was right, even if she was wrong.

Now, to me, there was a huge difference between a paymaster and a boss. Like the earth and the sky. She could talk about this and that till she turns blue on her face, but eventually, things would be done my way. I heard from my dad that she would push me hard on this job. But I knew that my dad’s confidence in me would not be misplaced. I was good, as if building and renovating was in my blood, which I suspected it was, since this company was founded by my granddad and granduncle.

I was scouting the old barn, the place for her new studio, when she arrived, rolling in with a cloud of dust, to park right next to my truck. Her car was shiny, and no small amount of envy crept into my heart. Especially the shiny, clean part.

She had no doubt seen the side of my truck, with the words partially hidden by an inch of dust and mud :

Brick & Brick Ltd.
Builders Extraordinaire
Est. 1939

The ‘Extraodinaire’ part was my idea.

“Good morning, Miss. My name is Bob Brick, and I’m supervising the construction of your new place. Basically this project is my baby. Anything that happens here or going to happen, happens because I say so… It’s so very nice to be finally meeting you.”

I saw a small crease of annoyance across her brow, but establishing who was going to be lord over construction and who was the paymaster only, was paramount right from the start. I had dealt with too many people over the years who think they know one end of a hammer from the other, and then tell me where to hit the nail.

“Come and let us walk around a bit. To get the feel of the things that you want to see, and for me to get done. Let’s start over there at the barn…” She was very attractive to say the least.

“Now your studio is going to be a bit tricky. The soil in and around the barn is soft. Now if you don’t plan to put heavy machinery in that studio of yours, then we won’t get into putting some reinforcement piling. Now if you plan to have some elephants permanently dancing in there, it would be advisable to reinforce the ground first before we proceed with the walls. Anyways, the demolition crew can begin their work on the house, while we can start on your studio. That way, the timeline for completion will be shortened considerably…”

My joke about the elephants sort of revealed what I thought about her “studio”. Prissy mistresses with rich husbands or “Sugar Daddies”, and with lots of time and “charity” work on their hands trying to be all conservative and build a playpen out in the woods. Might as well build a tree-house while she was at it.

But I just smiled and nodded.

 

[intriguess]

Michaela McCormick

(I hate it when the computer eats my post)

When my father recommended Brick and Brick I nearly hired them before I met him. But Brick senior, was well a brick, a nice guy who was stern looking but fair. I had dreamed about doing this for years. Tearing down the old farmstead and putting up my own dreams in it's place. Just because it was old and had survived a tornado did not make it special in my mind, there were too many things that made me want to tear it down myself. I was practical and did have other things to do with my time than to destroy the old house bit by bit.

While we can start on your studio, I wondered if he often talked in the plural because he was used to being the crewmaster or whatever title he used. I wished I were talking to his father, Bob seemed to be made of steel with no yielding. As long as he followed the plans we would get along just fine I figured as I found myself staring at his ass and mentally telling myself not to.

"Well I'm not doing any wielding in my studio, but I will need running water, electric, and a gas hook up. I guess it is kind of nice that the barn burned down over fifteen years ago leaving just the foundation behind."

 

[Zircon]

Bob the Builder

“Yes Siree, Maam…” I was trying to be funny, although the level of success was still being measured.

I wondered why would she have the need for a studio, out in the middle of nowhere. At least, the middle of nowhere by my account. The place, in general, was the sort of place where kids can run and play all day, and have a new place to explore the next day. It’s big, as in America that is big. For some reason, images of the panhandle during the depression, with all those rolling fields and dust storms, frequently came into mind. It was weird.

Even weirder was her plans. It was drawn by an architect, with some imagination. Some I say, cause I immediately noticed the need for a few extra supports for the roof. Taking into account the weather in these parts, with tornado sirens and all, it would be advisable. The windows were too large and weirdly designed for my taste, and the door seemed to be in the wrong place. One had to go almost all the way round the place to get to it. Seemed like a waste of good walking and energy.

I told myself that I didn’t have to necessary tell, well only after the fact when it came time to pay anyway, that I would be adding some stuff to make the design stronger. Not more practical as it would mean re-designing, but it’s her studio, not mine. I like practicality because I am a lazy person by nature. I mean, why walk further when you can walk closer. Little stuff like that…

The weirdest part of it all was that I just could not take my eyes off her legs, which like they say, went on forever, disappearing to merge with her waist. And her strut, as it can only called a strut, was hypnotic. Especially when the heels of her shoes dug into the soft ground. I was hoping that she would fall, and give me the opportunity to catch her before she hit the ground. But she was walking pretty, as they say, and confidently.

“Say, Miss McCormick… Now that we’ve this project pretty much started… Um… Care to join me for a cup of coffee? It’d be way more comfortable. I know a nice a little mom-and-pop shop down the street. You can ask me questions about the project there. What do you say?”

 

[intriguess]

Michaela

I found it humorous that he called me miss and I smiled as I looked around the place where I had spent the first six years of my life. I was amazed at how the trees were still there, and I wondered what other questions he had in mind. I took one more look off to the silo that had been put in the year I was born that stood as a testament against time to the north, and the creek that trickled off to the west. I recalled many a time spent exploring that creek, getting muddy and washing off with the hose, of playing in the alfalfa fields. I cleared my mind of the past and glanced at him, and realized that he had asked me a question.

Was now the time to be brutally honest and say that I hated the taste of coffee? or just play along order a cup and not drink it? Then again, not like it mattered what she said, after all he was just the contractor. It would be nice to have some time and explain why the door was on the far side of her studio, then again not like he would understand about natural lighting, and wanting an empty design wall with no doors or windows. She had a feeling he was the change it because he thought it was better ask questions later type.

Then again he was building the place, not like he had to live in it. I took a deep breath of air and hoped that my dog would be able to adjust to living in the country. "Sure, sounds good."

She wondered how good the shocks in his truck were, she would definetly have to trade her car in for something more practical but it's not like it was going to be built in a day so I could think about stuff like that later.