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French Tower
Wednesday, September 13 2006
"Structural!" is an expression I sometimes mutter out loud, particularly on a project such as the ongoing addition of cantilevered outriggers to the solar deck. Who can say whether the structures I'm putting in place are strong enough to do what I'm calling upon them to do? But as long as I keep the concept of structural integrity in my mind, perhaps all will turn out okay. Today I added angled braces beneath the five feet of cantilevered two by eights projecting southward from the deck; unlike the folks who built our house's east deck, I'm smart enough to know you can't cantilever two by eights that far on their own. (The former owners had actually tried to cantilever two by sixes that far and, upon realizing the folly of their ways, had corrected the problem by running the corner posts holding up the hand rails all the way down to the ground some twelve feet below, ending up with no cantilevering whatsoever.)
Gretchen teaches four days each week, an ambitious schedule for layabouts such as ourselves. When she came home tonight she was craving lasagna, which is not a dish one can whip up while hungry. So we headed down to the Hurley Mountain Inn, the nearest restaurant to our house and regionally-famous for what it still calls "freedom fries." (If it's ever built, I'm going to call the skyscraper at Ground Zero "French Tower.")
We ended up "on the porch," a closed-in and insulated former porch. This part of the Inn is particularly rich with mounted hunter trophies, which are, as Gretchen pointed out, not just in bad taste but creepy as well. What rational person, after all, wants to look at a dead deer's disembodied head on a wall, particularly when eating?
I know someone reading this will take offense, but throughout our meal we cracked each other up by feigning petit mal seizures.
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