virginiaisforlykoshes: Friday and Saturday's Treks

I spent a few hours on Thursday arranging a trek to Richmond and back for Phil. He took the seats out of the van on Friday morning, and headed out. About 45 minutes away, he hit a thrift store and, apparently, had a great time. I remember that, in the summers when we'd visit my Grandma, we would go to thrift stores. My thrift store shopping, though, since about age ten, has been limited to occasional clothes shopping at Goodwill (usually I prefer consignment stores). So I was interested by the real thrill I heard in Phil's voice as he described the interesting little kitchen nook table with incredibly heavy chairs made of 2x4s, or the dresser that was just dropped off that the storekeeper was cleaning up. We had looked at a new dresser there, advertised on craigslist, and the one we liked was actually a set. The set was nice, so he paid and headed off.

From there, he headed on about fifteen more minutes to another craigslist location. Leaving there, he drove to Richmond.

I have been eyeing claw foot tubs for years. Probably back in 2007, I heard a lecture by the late Dr. Dan Skow, and he described how amazing it feels after bathing in a cast iron tub. I don't know that I've ever actually bathed in one, but I am ready! We had found a reasonably priced one (over the years, I've seen prices from about $100 for an old tub left in the farmyard to about $1000 for a refurbished version—after reading the multi-step process to refinish a tub, mostly done with harsh chemicals and sandpaper, I think that price for a new tub is worth it!). The picture on craigslist showed the better-looking side, but the interior enamel was in great shape, so Phil put it in the back of the van and drove home.

Had he gone straight out and back, it would have been about four hours of driving. He was gone almost eight, and was one tuckered out man by the time he returned.

The boys, though, were ecstatic. Actual baths over the last four years have been extremely rare (they probably have had them, but I'm not sure they all have, and not in the last three years). They climbed into the tub while it was still in the van and pretended to swim, or to jump in, or to balance on the edges. We finally grew concerned that the enamel was in danger with all the vigor, so we shooed them out.

I got in and sat back. At 30 weeks along, I know that I should always sit forward, to allow the baby the best chance of positioning well for labor, but for those few minutes, it was fun to sit with my back against the edge. What a perfect angle!

On Saturday, Phil's friend Andy came to help. We lightly loaded up the truck with all the trash bags we could (those that hadn't degraded over the last many months in the sun—a very small proportion of the total quantity of trash we have accumulated). Then they headed out for what I thought would be a three hour furniture collection trip.

Five and a half hours later, they pulled in. Shortly after dropping off the load at the dump, they ran into an incredibly heavy rain. Then the truck started jolting—Phil was having so much fun talking, he had forgotten to check the gas gauge. Thankfully they found a station while running on fumes.

Loading the dressers was a challenge. In the end, they had to leave the tailgate down, and as they drove, they had to stop periodically to adjust the tarp over the top (protection from the rain) as it blew in the wind.

Unloading was another challenge. The calves have, apparently, taken up residence in the barn at times, and there were mini cow pies dotting the unloading zone. Not only was there the grossness of stepping in them; then the dirty shoes spread the manure where a hand then went (eww!). And the furniture was heavy. If Andy hadn't been there to help, I don't know what we would have done. Maybe Phil could have used the tractor somehow, but that sounds a bit like trying to cut a cake with a chainsaw: way too much power for a delicate operation.

So that was two full days of transportation. I'm glad we don't have to do that every day.

The boys, though, made the most of the time. The tub is now resting in the driveway next to the greenhouse (again, happily Andy was there to help unload—otherwise, maybe our van would simply be unusable, with only seats for Phil and I still in). The boys filled it with water from the hose. They put on swimtrunks and spent several hours, all four of them, laughing and splashing.