Home Improving Stories

I was talking on the phone to Brent's mom on Sunday and telling her about our improving the basement. She said that Jess and Sean's basement is almost done and should be really nice. To which I said, "Yeah, they did it the easy way." Meaning - they hired someone else to do it. Leslie's reply was, "Yeah, Brent is his father's son ... why pay someone else when you can do it yourself. That way you have no one else to blame - good or bad." I've been thinking a lot about Brent's dad lately. Probably because we are doing the home improving stuff. Last week it was four years since he passed away. It seems like a lot longer and a lot shorter at the same time. Here's the awesome thing though - Brent, stop reading - Brent really is his father's son. He can do anything! And when he can't figure out how to do it one way, he will figure out how to do it another way. He talks more about his dad when he's doing stuff with his hands. I hear him say stuff like - "Dad would have said, 'Come look at my dumb kid' if he had seen me do that." He knows how to do what he does because his dad took the time to teach him. I'm so thankful for that. It would be A LOT easier to hire someone else to do it, but Brent likes it and I think he feels closer to his dad when he does it than any other time. So, I'm proud that I'm married to a man who is his father's son, whether good or bad, because his dad is a good man and so is his son.

This picture is from Father's Day 2002. All the kids went in on a bunch of meat for him. I think it's a cute picture.

Ok Brent, you can start reading again! (He hates to hear the mushy stuff.)

So, onto our basement. On Saturday Brent had all these great plans about the basement. He was going to finish pulling off the topper boards, start wiring the new plugs and a few other things I can't remember. I kept trying to remind him that we had to go to Silverdale to get his new glasses. "Yeah, I know." Well, the phone rings and I hear Brent say, "This can't be good." I thought he was talking about something with the walls, but it turns out he had a feeling that he was getting called into work. Sure enough, Lori's on the end of the line saying, "I bet you didn't want to hear from me." So, he has to drop everything and head in to work. There goes the wiring. We did get to Silverdale to get his new glasses though, so that was good.

Sunday, we got new callings. Well, additional callings. We are now teaching the marriage portion of the Marriage and Family Relations course. It's actually kind of a funny story as to how we got called, but I need to ask Brent if we can tell it....it involves a meeting he was at. I'll get back to you on that. Anyway, it must have been the Sunday for new callings because Brent's mom got called as the Stake Relief Society First Counselor, his brother-in-law Steve got called as the 2nd Counselor in their bishopric, Brad got a new calling that I'm not 100% sure we're suppose to talk about yet, and we got our new calling. What a day!! At any rate, I digress.

So, Monday comes and since it is Brent's regular day off, he has many big plans for the day. He's been having a lot of trouble getting the holes drilled so he could attach the 2x4's to the wall. He had decided that he needed something called a hammer drill to do the work. He called a place that rents tools and sure enough, they had a hammer drill. So, early Monday morning we get in the car to go down to this place and get the hammer drill. Brent's in there for a few minutes. I can see him talking to this guy. He then comes out with nothing in his hands. "What's up?" I ask. Well, the hammer drills they have won't take the bit that Brent has. Apparently it's too small. They don't make the industrial hammer drills that small, but they don't make screws that you can get at any home improvement store bigger. Sounds confusing to me.

But, the clerk told Brent he could probably use a stud gun and that will work just as well, as long as he can get the nails. Off to the little hardware store in Port Orchard with the hopes of finding the nails. Eureka! They have them. So, we go back to the rental place and Brent rents the stud gun. (Men must name these things because a woman would just laugh at a name like that. In fact, I kind of giggle every time I type it.) I don't know what I was expecting, but Brent comes out with this little case. "Don't you need an air compressor or anything?" "Nope, it shoots the nails in." The "shoots" part didn't dawn on me until we got home.

We get home and Brent gives me some protective eye wear and ear plugs. We're really home improving now. He opens the case and gets out the gun, I mean, tool.

Here is a wonderful picture of a stud gun I got off ther intener - forgot to take a picture before we took ours back. Let me paint you a picture. Brent takes out this foot long, red thing that resembles a gun somewhat. I'm getting a little worried. Then, he takes out this row of what looks like those caps you used to put in your cap guns when you were little. Then, he puts the nail in the other end. Apparently the orange bit is to make this more like a gun!

Here's the thing. I hate guns! I grew up in a house with guns. I've been around guns. I hate guns. Guns kill. I am not a hunter and never will be. If I had to kill what I ate, I would be a vegetarian. I don't even like to fish.

This supposed tool is basically a gun - hence the name stud gun - that literally shoots the nail into the wall. You cock it and everything. Not my favorite tool! In fact, after a little while, I called it the "horrid little machine." That made Brent laugh so that is now the name of it.

Ok, off my soap box and back to the home improving. Brent gets all the little bits of this horrid little machine together, warns me it is going to be loud, puts it up against the wall and ..... click. Doesn't go off. He looks at it again and wiggles it around, puts it up against the wall and .... click. This goes on for about 20 minutes. All of a sudden, one of the clicks actually fires and we both jump. "Kind of caught me off guard there." Our wall is well on its way. He's figured it out! He puts another nail in, puts it up against the wall and ... click. I'm sure you can image how happy he was. After about 40 minutes of this, Brent finally gets annoyed and calls the place where we rented it from. "Is there any special way you have to use this?" Turns out, over the phone at least, he's doing everything he's suppose to. So, he puts in a new nail, puts it up against the wall and ... click. Another 20 minutes of this finds Brent on his way to the rental place with a "broken" horrid little machine and me sitting here laughing.

What have I been doing this whole time you ask? Basically, I felt my job was to stand by and take out any nails that got "shot" into my husband. I am a worrier. Come from a long line of worriers. So, I'm pretty sure that if I'm sitting there watching, nothing bad will happen, but the minute I walk upstairs .. there goes his hand. I know you're thinking - this girl is weird. More than likely.

Brent comes home from the rental place feeling somewhat chagrined. They didn't have any problem with the horrid little machine. They gave him a couple of suggestions as to what he was doing wrong, so .... he tries again. It took a couple of miss-fires before he figured it out. He finally realized that he "felt different" when it was ready to fire. We're going along fine. Shooting these 2" nails in to the wall. Then, we get to the next wall.

He shoots the nail into the wall and the nail just takes out a chuck of concrete and bends the nail. After this happens a couple of times, we realize that the wall must be made of some sort of harder than nails - literally - material. We found that certain places could be nailed into and we are well on our way to making a wall.

Here's where I come in. When I was young, my mom and I would watch tons of home improvement shows - Home Time, This Old House, you get the picture. So, I've always wanted to do what they did on the shows, but I've never had the opportunity. One time, I went down to New Harmony to help Brent and his dad with the house down there. I got to sweep. It wasn't very thrilling. I think I've complained enough about that time that Brent knows I'm ready. So, he asks me if I can measure and cut the vertical pieces of wood. I'm not the best at measuring, so I wasn't really excited at first, but...I only cut 1 short and it wasn't even that short. I used the compound miter saw and everything. It was a home improving dream! Yeah me!

Looks like a wall, doesn't it?

Then comes the insulation. Brent got these big old foam boards that you cut to fit. That was also my job. Luckily, foam squishes pretty well, so my not-so-accurate measuring didn't matter much.

We are well on our way to a warmer, cuter and most importantly, done basement. We will be ready for visitors any time of the year!

Happy home improving to you!