Blog Post: What an Old House (Attic Edition)

Aug8

We’re still on the attic… of course we are, we’re going to be on the attic forever…

Well, okay, maybe not forever. 

It stalled for a while, due in large part to a combination of physical and mental illness on my part, but we’re back!

And we’re making things I insist on calling keystones, even though they’re not nearly that important.

We took each rafter (the things that go /\ to make a gable roof) and we “sistered” a long 2×4 to the bottom of it, to provide depth for insulation and some extra structure (considering that the rafters are… not as deep as they oughta be, no matter how long they’ve lasted.

But these /\ joins are in many cases imperfect, so now, with the aid of a hammer, a chop saw, and a sander, I am taking little wedges of scrap lumber and gluing them in between the / and the \ where they meet. 

This means that any pressure from the sistered rafters will have something to push on, rather than just pushing into the air (If the rafters have pressure going –> that way or <– that way.  Pressure going up and down is handled by glue, nails, nails, glue, and three braces nailed to each rafter & sister, and side to side by braces nailed between each pair of rafters)

(we have probably doubled the structure of this attic, to be honest) 

So the process goes: note a measurement on a scrap of lumber, cut the piece, fit, sand down, fit, sand down, fit, glue, hammer into place… repeat.

This is really not that time-consuming a process; I think sweeping down all the cobwebs from the roof took longer. 

But man does it involve a lot of up and down on that step ladder.  

Next after that: framing in the tiny bit of ceiling /–\ that we’ll be putting in there — just enough to put in some new lighting once this is done. 

It’s starting to look a lot like attic….

Bomb

Aug8
Originally posted on Patreon in August 2019 and part of the Great Patreon Crossposting to WordPress.
This story comes after  The Gardener, The Garden, To the Garden, and Catch the Rain. It is part of the series with  First Garden.  It takes place in the Fae Apoc world during the apocalypse .

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Although an area more than a mile on a side had become known as Damkina’s garden, in the core of it was still the museum and its own gardens, the place where it had all, for a certain definition of the word, begun.

And in that garden, around the oldest statues, ones she had carefully brought and restored and up-kept, someone had knitted kilts.

Damkina walked around the two statues, observing them.  The one on the left had been sculpted in memory of her first husband — not by her, whose arts did not lay in the dead stone, but by someone she knew, by hands who had also loved that man.  The one on the right was a bit newer, a couple centuries, but was of a woman she had loved.  They were both, as was the style, naked.

Except currently they were both wearing kilts.

She studied the kilts — they had been knitted in place, or perhaps had been knitted off-site and finished in place.  They were well-done, in brilliant colors.

They were interesting.  But they were also — she wasn’t sure of the words.

She left them where they were, although she added a sketch, tucked in a sheet protector, of what these two had actually worn in their own times.  Kilts were not that far off, but they were, perhaps, a little understated.

The next time she returned to the core of her garden, someone had added a lovely crocheted pectoral to her first husband’s outfit.  Damkina found herself smiling.

The world was falling to compost and dust.  There would be revolution and there would be screaming and blood in the streets.  But if people could take the time to dress statues in garishly bright plastic yarns, then perhaps the sprouts that grew from this forest fire would be strong enough to carry it for another millennium or more.

She found some yarn and a crochet hook in an abandoned store, a book on crochet from the locked-down library, and a sad light pole at the edge of her greater garden, and she began to crochet.

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Haunted House 58: Happy

Aug3

First: A story featuring a male keeper and a female Kept.
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The chickens were excited when Mélanie went out to feed them, clucking away at something.  Mélanie tensed, worried she was going to find something strange in the pen again — but it was only one of the rescued former slaves, clucking back at them.  He jumped when Mélanie approached. 

“Oh, sorry!  I just– I used to be in charge of the animals–“

“If you want to feed them and get the eggs, I’d appreciate it.  I’ll go turn the horses out into their paddock then.” If they were going to have company long-term – and House seemed to think they would – they might want to think about getting a rooster around and hatching some more chickens. “The food’s kept right over here, in the barn.” Continue reading →

Running in the Bear Empire 52: Tales

Aug2

First: Running in the Bear Empire
Previous:51: Lady
Next: 53: the Swan
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Pallar kept a map behind her bar. 

It was a broad, big map, taking up most of the space behind the bar, a portion of it turning around the corner to show all of the mountains in their glory.  And it had a scale, carefully listed in both the Imperial shede and Haloran fetter.  From the looks of things, they were half a day from the capital the way the two of them would walk, or a little over a day the way they traveled with their little train of people.  Continue reading →

Snacks

Aug1
Originally posted on Patreon in August 2019 and part of the Great Patreon Crossposting to WordPress.
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(with the note: oops, there’s no arts & crafts in this one, but then again, I’m behind on last month’s stories, sooo…)
This is a story in a long series about Audrey (a witch, a dweomer (magical humanoid) passing as human but living in Smokey Knoll, a magical-creatures neighborhood, and her children, Jin – her oldest, Junie, her middle child (Juniper), and her youngest. 

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If I  had thought Girl Scouts was difficult, I  had not remotely been prepared for summer camp.

Jin had not cared all that much when younger, preferring to spend the days at the neighborhood pool and the evenings with his friends.  Junie…  Junie was more of a belonging  sort than Jin — or, truth be told,  than either Sage or I.

All her friends at school were going to summer camp.  Junie wanted to go  to summer camp.

Easy?

Easier said than done.

Places that were eager for my money and Junie’s enrollment were suddenly full with a long waiting list when our address came up.  Some places wouldn’t answer my calls.  One place hung up on me. Continue reading →

Spoils of War 15 – Rest Stop

Jul31

First: Spoils of War I: Surrender

Content warning for this chapter: Clumsy field medicine on rat-induced wounds. 

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They were far enough from the Mountain that nobody looked too worried at soldiers riding into town, but close enough that people were cautious. 

“We need clean water, preferably some alcohol for our wounds, grain for the horses, and a sheltered place to sleep,” Nikol told the townsfolk (for a generous definition of “town”), when they were asked what their business was.  “We made a bad choice of resting places, and the rat-things in the factory back there—”

The bigger of the cats made a spitting noise and a very indignant face.  The four people — three women, one man, all armed — laughed. 

“That cat is right.  They’re not good eating, I can tell you that, for man nor beast, but they think you’re a pretty decent dinner.” The four of them shared a look.  “Toby’s barn on the edge of town is clear right now, there’s a little grain and a clear-water pump.  You have something to pay with?” Continue reading →