Team Blackrock

It's an unfortunate fact of A.'s life that he has many projects to do and only two willing but essentially unskilled workers. The MiL and I are not exactly handywomen. I mean, we're not totally useless, but our role is generally confined to fetching supplies, holding boards steady, and supplying lots and lots of food and water.

But we do help. Because there is too much for one man to do alone at Blackrock, no matter how strong and skilled he may be.

Yesterday's day of roofing was one such occasion. The front porch roof has been leaking for years now, so it was on A.'s list after he learned how to roof last summer by assisting a more knowledgeable friend on the back part of the house.

Roofing is incredibly hard work. All the materials--plywood, tar paper, shingles--are extremely heavy, and of course they all must be conveyed up. Up a ladder or, for some of the supplies in the case of this roof, up the inside stairs and then out the hall window. Do you know how much a full eight-foot sheet of plywood weighs? Me neither, but I know it's enough that I wouldn't want to lift it over my head and slide it up a ladder to a roof above. As A. did. Ten times.

Before he did that, though, he first stripped all the old shingles, plus all their nails, off the roof. And shoved them over the side, to rest attractively on the front patio.

This may be why most people hire someone else to do this sort of thing.

The smaller bits of shingles were bagged up. The larger sheets of shingles were just stacked. We're going to have to go through the hassle of getting special tags and taking all this in A.'s truck to the dump in the Small City. It's just too much to put in bags and take to our town dump ourselves.

I did most of the shingle pick-up, some with Cubby's dubious assistance, most while he was napping. Meanwhile, the MiL climbed onto the roof with A. to help him pull out all the many, many old nails that had to come out before he could put on the plywood.

Nothing like mother and son bonding time.

The MiL requested I take this photo, as evidence that she is a Good Sport. Duly recorded.

Despite our willingness to help, however, there is only so much the MiL and I can do. A. worked on the roof from seven in the morning until 7:30 that night, with a couple of hours for a break in the middle of the day to attend a birthday party. He pulled off whole areas of rot and replaced them with boards, covered everything in plywood, nailed down a plastic membrane, and finally got the tar paper on. Once the tar paper is on, it doesn't matter if it rains. That's why he kept going until that was done, at least.

Then he dragged himself inside and got in the shower. I'm not sure how he managed to stand upright to take a shower. Maybe he didn't.

Today he has to put on the shingles. And the MiL and I have some more clean-up to do.

Weekends at Blackrock are not about relaxation, obviously.