Chapter 22

I had to grin, then laugh outright when I woke to the clangor of the iron triangle being stirred vigorously, and Mom's western yodel of "Come an' git it!" summoning us to breakfast. Dee at first bolted in terror at the sound of the jangling metal, then heard my laugh, and processed Mom's raucous clear clarion voice. She slowed her flight, and pretended she had just been hurrying to the breakfast table.

The smell of baking sweetbread filled the house, and we trouped down bemusedly to find that my impression of Flo having sat on her porch the entire time of the work party was false, as at some point, she had instructed Mom and various other ladies in the art of making braided Danish wreath. I asked Mom if she would let me help and learn how next time, and got her agreement. It was beautiful, dark golden brown, filled with chopped dates, raisins, walnuts, brown sugar, and glazed with a thick white drizzle of sweet frosting. The bread inside was golden and sweet, with a hint of spices that shouted to your mouth of love.

I was decadent, and put butter on my piece.

After Dad had his second cup of coffee, I asked him his plans for the day, and he indicated that he was planning on surveying the eyesore to make sure all the parts were there, dodging the expected kick from Holly with ease, since we had all come to anticipate that reaction in response to the words "Neighborhood eyesore". My Miss Tiff knocked on the door at that moment, and was talking as soon as she got inside.

"I just went through the parts in the back, and almost everything is there, except for the carburetor valve and the reduction gearing, but I think there is an aftermarket version on that engine available, and it looks like everything was reconditioned and ready to assemble, once the bit of rust at the seals is polished up that is, and we may have to just replace the carb with a newer one, might be easier than trying to locate..."

She stopped and realized we were all staring at her attentively. She blushed, and I greeted her "Good morning, Tiff, Have a seat and some pastry. Do you want coffee, or would you rather a glass of milk?" She said over her shoulder as she went to the utility sink to wash the grease and grime from her hands "Milk please!"

I took the moment to ask Dad about making a run to the Home Improvement center for sound abatement materials, and since it seemed the heap project was well underway, he agreed. Maybe he would get sucked into Beth's project as well. My goodly plans were coming to fulfillment! insert goodly giggle here. (tee hee hee.)

So after the breakfast was tidied away, amazingly there was about four or five inches of Danish wreath left, Beth and Dad and I piled into his vehicle and left the two motor-heads to their assembly and planning. The day was clear and cloudless, the lack of insulation making for a brisk frosty morning. Dad asked me to help him install faucet covers and heat tape on the pipes under the house, to avoid having to use so much water leaving faucets running a trickle to prevent freezing this winter. Since I planned to put Styrofoam under the flooring, and would be crawling under the house anyway, I agreed without complaint.

I explained to Dad that I wanted to cover the walls first with Styrofoam to deaden the sound, and then with deep eggcarton acoustic foam. He suggested we try for recycled Styrofoam, as environmentally friendly and cheaper, and said he knew maybe where to get it. Dad knows everyone in town, it seems, and everyone thinks they owe him a favor. I learned a lot from Dad about interlocking obligations. The old mutual back scratching network, from the time in the past when a man's word was his bond, and an agreement and a handshake were as good or better than a witnessed contract.

We were able to get enough Styrofoam, but it was in various shapes. sorting through for standard thicknesses, we decided that it only had to be the same thickness for each wall, but the various walls could have different thicknesses. We ended up with two three inch walls, one two inch wall, and a one inch thick wall. I suggested between the joists in the attic, and under the floor in any thickness we could get, and scraps- we could go double one inch pieces, or whatever. So Dad just loaded up all the packing peanuts they had, paying the man forty bucks, since packing peanuts were worth a little, even recycled.

Dad had Beth write down all the dimensions of the larger piece, and enter them into a program on his computer, which made a plan showing where all the pieces would fit with the least cutting. We printed and labled the five sheets of paper N, E, S, W, and Floor, and got to work cutting, gluing, and fitting.