Wednesday, June 4, 2014


Today, I am hopefully beginning an ongoing series on the blog titled Father-Daughter. In this series I will detail my adventures in helping my father with his summer  job - restoring homes. As a quick aside, my father basically lives the life. He skis 7 days a week during the winter and spends the spring/summer/fall restoring homes to their natural beauty. The house he worked on two summers ago, I fell in love with. The wood beams in the ceiling, the fireplaces, the wide wood panels on the floor. It was beautiful.

So now he's starting a new project up in New Hampshire. I went with him on Saturday to check it out and help. The day started off at 7 am (I typically only get up that early on the weekend to surf or snowboard, otherwise I'd much prefer sleep) when he asked me where my workboots were and when I showed him what I was planning on wearing he said, "Those aren't workboots, those are fashion boots." Guys, what's wrong with my boots?

First we headed off to Loews to get cement. 80 lbs. bags? No problem. I can probably one-arm those.

Oh, who am I kidding. An 80lb bag of cement might as well be a rhino. My dad was laughing, that's how much I was struggling. I apparently need to focus more on arms at the gym. My sixty year old father had no trouble lifting six of them while I struggled to get two of them from the cart up into the bed of the truck. It was embarrassing.

Then once we stopped at Dunks for a caffeine pickmeup we headed to the property, past some amazing homes, rolling fields, thick forests, a really beautiful drive. I don't know the history of this property but it has clearly had better days. However, walking through and hearing what my dad intends to do with each room, I have no doubt that it's going to be stunning. Right now it's in the demo stage so you have to look beyond the pictures at what the potential is.

(He spent the previous day cutting away at the old deck so he could replace it.)

On Saturday my dad wanted to finish digging holes to then fill with cement to make posts for a front deck. He had started two holes the day before and we needed to get all five dug. So I spent the morning, through a rainshower, muggy warm temps, and the most annoying swarm of mosquitos I've ever encountered, digging big-kid holes. Three foot deep holes. Through top soil, roots, rocks, worms. It was tough work. And guess what? I don't normally use those muscles in my back. When I go to the gym I focus on cardio, not thrusting a weighted pole into the ground to loosen the soil and then scooping it out with a weird, post-digging specific shovel. If I keep this up (although how much demand can there be for this type of digging?) I may never need a gym membership again. I can just dig holes for a living.
(This was about a third of the way into my first hole of the day.)

(This is how I feel about mosquitos, rain showers and profuse sweating.)

We got (and by we I mean my dad since I was doing the digging) three and a half of the four posts poured before we ran out of cement and called it a day. But I have to say, despite the fact that I was sweating profusely, covered in dirt, and itchy all over from the bugs, I felt really accomplished. They might just be holes that I dug, but those holes are one step to a beautiful porch taking shape and I love being able to say that I was a part of that.
(Dad pouring the cement into the holes)

So here's hoping that this series continues on and I have more stories to share from the house remodel front. No splinters, blisters, cuts so far. Here's hoping I keep myself intact and unharmed. That might have just jinxed me...
(This is the living room as is.)

(The current state, half demo-ed, of the kitchen.)

(When my dad pulled up the awful linoleum floor he found hardwood that will look beautiful when re-sanded and stained.)




  1. Looking forward to more of this series. Bravo on the digging and porch creation. Can't wait to see more. And for the record, I love your fashion boots.


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