I walk away from my daughter a lot

Sanity is born out of single mindedness. I cope by focusing on small accomplishments. It's simple: Build the next wall as if it's your last. Don't think about all 20 walls. Before you know it, 3 walls are built, then 4, then 5... But if I stop for a Mountain Dew break and start looking around too much, insanity creeps in.

I often work alone. And that can get boring. Enter the insanity bug. I feel like a Buddhist monk, living in an isolated world, turned inward. I wonder what real people are doing for fun. So think about this before you order blue prints or hire an architect and proclaim, "I'm gonna build me an addition!" It's not normal. It's a perilous journey down a long, never-ending road of messes and unfinished walls.

Prepare your budget. Prepare your tools. And above all else... prepare your soul. I am missing out on a very important part of my childrens' lives. I walk away from my daughter a lot. She often asks sweetly, "Do you want to play with me?" when I am full of drywall dust. While I believe I am building this house for them, it's still difficult every single day.

The Family Room Kicked Our...

Six people took their best shot at demolishing this 1980 addition. I rented a backhoe just a few days after we took the last wall down. The backhoe came with a boulder claw. If I would have known this, I would have told the other five people to stay home.

My dad stood in the hole with a dirt rake. A piece of tape on the handle measured the height of an 8 inch footing, 6 courses of block, and the sill. I purchased a $300 contractor's level (worth every single penny since I wouldn't have been able to excavate without it) and placed it on one of the family room footings. The tape mark was adjusted for the height difference between the laser and the top of the sill (add the difference to the height of the wall). I would honk the horn to signal Dad to measure the area I had just excavated. The next day, my neighbor, a retired man in his 70's, measured the front. The results were great. Because I was nervous about compromising the native soil below the footing, I left 1-4 inches to hand dig, a small price to pay for peace of mind. A flat shovel did the trick in no time.

The total excavation cost less than $700 and took 2 days. The worst part was returning the backhoe.

Strong Bones. Strong Foundation.

We've thrown a lot of nice lumber into a lot of dumpsters... 6 dumpsters so far, with about 3 to go. People always ask me, "Why don't you save that nice wood?" Sure. No problem if you like spending precious time carefully separating the studs, joists and headers from each other, then pulling out dozens of drywall nails. Everything is connected to something. It's just not worth the hassle, no matter how thrifty you are... and I can be thrifty.


This house was well made. The owner took good care of it. I often think of the original owner, Bob. He lived in this house for almost 50 years. According to the neighbors, he was happy with Lil Ranch and the location. His kids have dropped by after noticing the commotion from a nearby golf course. They are shocked, saddened, and excited for us. These encounters are never comfortable.


And so I carry Bob and his family in my thoughts, especially when yanking that nice lumber out. The life he built was not in vein. It was not wasted. Bob's foundation and exterior walls will support whomever calls this place "home" forever.

Have you ever dreamed...

Have you ever dreamed of adding a 2nd story addition to your rambler? How hard can it be, right?

Well let me tell ya.

I'm starting this blog to document what's become the single most important decision of our life, and to share what professionals refer to as the church of the trade... the special tricks and tips pros use that turn construction into art.

I've been learning to remodel my entire life. First with my own dad, then with my father-in-law, a carpenter by trade.

My father was like so many dads... turning our basement into a family room. He was thorough and quite careful. I remember his tours to visitors. I probably went on the same tour 30 times, and enjoyed each one like it was my first. I was very proud of my dad, who was the son of a carpenter. Grandpa, as I've been told, didn't work for himself, but was THE GUY on the framing crew, in charge of designing hand-framed roof-lines and unusual staircases. Dad, who lived alone with Grandpa after his mom died when he was 5, would wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of Grandpa shuffling through blue prints, diligently planning the next day's work.

I remember reading over and over again a Family Handyman article that chronicled the construction of a sprawling ranch in a rural part of America (I forget exactly where). It doesn't sound unusual, but consider that I was 8 or 9 years old. I would stare at the pictures, dreaming of the day I could build my own home.

So that brings me to here. My dream has come true. Along with a VERY supportive wife and with the help of family and friends, I am turning a 1000 square foot rambler (built in 1955) into a 2900 square foot two-story home. Let the ride begin.