How Many Baptists Does It Take . . . . Part II

We're still checking things off of our "to do" list from the home inspector and the buyer. At the top of the buyer's list - something that the sale of the house depended on - was a closet in the master bedroom. We didn't have one. We have a big, beautiful bedroom, a big, beautiful bathroom complete with jacuzzi tub and no closet! You see, up until abouty six years ago, our master bedroom was a two car garage. My mother, who was 87 at the time, had suffered a massive heart attack. It was one of those situations that they don't prepare you for in the "what to expect when you grow up book". Our roles were reversed. I was no longer the little girl and she was no longer the strong, independent woman who could conquer the world. At any rate, we knew that she would no longer be able to drive and that it probably wouldn't be long before she wasn't able to live alone. The solution . . . we'd add on to our house so she could move in with us. We have friends from church in all areas of construction, I'm married to the plumber . . . So while I was making daily trips back and forth to the hospital and evntually the rehab center, keeping up with my work, making sure that my busy middle schooler was where he needed to be at the appointed time I pretty much left all of the major decisions up to the guys. I told them I trusted their judgement on all of the technical aspects and that when it came time to pick colors, etc, I'd give my input. Mother was eventually discharged from rehab and was able to go back to her little apartment. I was still making daily trips in to check on her and to help her decide what she was going to bring with her and what we would sell at the yard sale. I was still trying to keep up with my work and with my son. I stuck my head in the room to check on things once in a while, but as promised I left everything up to the guys. Every once in a while when I stuck my head in there, I got that nagging feeling that something was missing. In the mean time, mother was re-admitted to the hospital with another problem. So back and forth to the hospital, back and forth to Ryan's activities, back and forth to pick up and drop off work. I came home one afternoon just as a couple of the guys were loading up the truck. The drywall was done! I could start picking out paint and carpet colors! Great! I needed a distraction! I walked in and looked around. It was beautiful. I'm thinking, "OK, I'll paint the walls this color and we can use that color for the carpet and the bed will go over here, and my dresser will go over here and we can put the TV on the stand over by the clo . . . . Hey! Where's the closet? Uh, honey! Where is the closet? D, where's the closet?" I got blank stares. "Uh, I think we forgot to ask you where you wanted it." "Well, we could . . . or maybe we . . . uh, where do you want it?" The final decision was made by way of a quick trip through an antique warehouse sale one afternoon while mother was having some tests done. They had two matching armoirs. If I had cash and could pick them up that day, he'd let me have them for a steal because he had a shipment coming in the next day and needed the room. So, for the past six years we've used beautiful vintage Brittish armoirs as our "closet".

So, when it came time to list the house, the realtor questioned us about the closet (or lack thereof). He assumed that the armoirs were family heirlooms and that we had designed the room around them. "Uh, yeah! That's it!". So we came up with three alternatives for prospective buyers, including keeping the armoirs. When the alternatives were presented to this buyer (actually her mother, who will be living here too) she said a resounding "NO!!!" when offered the armoirs. The second alternative was a "custom" built-in from Ikea along the window wall complete with drawers and window seat. "NO! That's too much like the wardrobes I've had to use all of my life. I want a CLOSET!" Third alternative . . . . move the washer and dryer down to the other end of the utility room, cut a door through the wall between the bedroom and the utility room, add a wall to divide the new closet from the utility room and . . . . "YES! That's what I want!". So Super Plumber moved the washer and dryer hookup to the other end of the utility room and our friend Scott (Carpenter Extraordinaire and Drywall Guru)came to help with the rest.



Just another hour or so worth of finish work tomorrow, and Scott will be coming out of the closet so I can go in and paint! Sorry. I just couldn't resist that one.

One more short story made long by a rambling, nervous, sleep deprived middle ager!

Blessings y'all!

P.S. I let you know that "Super Tucker" is a preacher, so I have to let you know that Scott (and his wife Beth) sings like an angel! With any luck, Scott will sing the special the night that Tucker preaches then I can get a CD with both of them on it to pass around to anyone who wants to hear!

How many Baptists does it take . . .

We're slowly working down our "punch list" of things that the home inspector made as well as a couple of requests from the lady who is purchasing our house. One request she made was to move an 8 x 10 shed from point A in the front of the house beside the carport to point B in the back yard next to the "big ugly green thing". How does one move an 8 x 10 shed from point A to point B? Well, around our church family, one calls "Super Tucker". Any time there is a big, seemingling impossible task or if someone has gotten themselves into the proverbial pickle that requires the strength of Herculese to correct - we call Tucker. The "no fear" signs you see everywhere . . . they originated with Tucker. He's the one who balances on a 2 x 4 and guides the roof trusses into place. He's the one who plays Cheeta/George of the Jungle and shimmies up a 40' sand pine tree to attach a rope near the top so the tree doesn't fall the wrong way. The thing about him climbing the tree is that it wasn't attached to the ground any more. When it was cut, instead of it falling the way it was supposed to, it kind of just got stuck between two other trees and was suspended there. A good stiff wind or a squirrel positioned on just right branch would have sent the tree crashing to the ground (or on to the roof, depending on the direction it fell). That didn't stop Tucker. He shimmied up that tree (twice because he didn't get the rope high enough the first time), tied the rope, shimmied down the tree and tied the other end of the rope off to the bumper of "big green" (not to be confused with the "big ugly green thing", which is a building) his 4WD Ford pickup that is as big as a building and requires a step ladder to get into it when you are vertically challenged like me. The tree was brought down safe and sound and we all had another chapter to add to our "stupid things that no one else has the guts to do" books that we're writing about Tucker.

At any rate, when Tucker found out that we needed to move the shed, he volunteered to help. He showed up bright and early yesterday morning in "big green" hauling "old yeller" on a trailer. "Old yeller" is a tractor with all the accessories that gets used for just about everything imaginable (and sometimes things that are unimaginable). The idea was to put the fork lift attachment on to "old yeller", slide the forks under the shed and then drive the shed from the front side of the house around to the back. I went outside at one point just in time to see them lifting the shed. My husband had his head stuck under the shed to make sure it was level. "Old yeller" and Tucker started to tip one way, the shed started to tip the other way, and somehow my husband managed to get from point A to point B without his feet ever touching the ground. Don't worry - nothing fell. I don't EVEN want to think about what could have happened if those two guys hadn't prayed before they started the job! I stayed around long enough to make sure everyone/everything was OK and then came into the house and shut the blinds so I didn't have to watch any more. I guess plan B must have worked because when curiosity got the best of me, I peeked out the window and saw the shed sitting in the back yard. Judging from the ruts in the yard, I gather they attached a chain to the platform and used "old yeller" to drag the shed around to its appointed position. It took them about another 20 minutes to get the shed positioned correctly on the slab(during which time it was discovered that "old yeller's" brakes are going bad and one of our small oak trees almost made the ultimate sacrifice as a result).




After a couple of hours of hoopin' and hollerin' and breath holding and head scratching and laughing, the shed was moved, "old yeller" was loaded back on to the trailer, Tucker was on his way home behind the wheel of "big green" and the neighborhood was once again safe and quiet. PLUS, we have another chapter to add to the book!



As a post script, I have to add that come Sunday night, "Super Tucker" will be ducking into the nearest phone booth, shedding his grubby Wranglers, t-shirt and ball cap and changing into his suit and tie and black dress cowboy boots as he becomes none other than "Reverend Tucker". You see, Tucker surrendered to preach several years ago and every couple of months he fills in on a Sunday night. He preaches one powerful message infused with some pretty funny illustrations taken from "stupid things no one else has the guts to do - volumes I through 10".