Posted By FarmerJ on August 23, 2009

Nearly three weeks ago, the shop recovery program began.  It’s much too early to say whether this is going to be a 12-Step Recovery Program, though.  It had taken this long to get the go-ahead from the insurance company to start sifting through the ash and rubble, and for my Darling Husbie to spend more than thirty minutes out there without becoming physically ill.

It was time.  That pile of nasty debris ~ once things that held value and importance to us ~ was like a gaping wound every time we’d look that direction.  It was time to let the scab form so the wound can heal.

So!  We found a rare weekend when Husbie actually had both days off and declared it Operation: Clean-Up Weekend.  I arranged for our trash service company to deliver a 20 cubic yard roll-off; Husbie arranged for a local scrap metal company to deliver one of the same; Husbie rented his favorite John Deere tractor with a loader and back-hoe; and I did a little meal planning so I could properly feed some hungry boys.

I was made to promise to tell a couple of certain guys when a clean-up weekend had been decided on.  They knew Husbie would never ask for help, and they wanted to help.  Special guys, indeed.  Crazy for wanting to give up an entire Sunday with their families so they could get as sweaty and grimy as possible over here; but very special, nonetheless.

Husbie spent most of Saturday out there by himself.  He ran the loader, scooping and sorting bucket after bucket of debris.  Two buckets into the complete trash roll-off; one into the scrap metal roll-off.  It was a very bittersweet moment, for me at least.  We haven’t actually discussed it, but I imagine it was similar for Husbie, too.  It was painful to perform the task of dumping years and years worth of your belongings into giant steel dumpsters, but it was healing to finally have it be gone.

Sunday arrived, and so did these two special crazy guys.  Dominic and Daniel were also here to pitch in, so there was some distraction and support for Husbie, and a much larger labor force than the day before.

I baked two batches of giant muffins ~ blueberry and banana nut ~ fried some bacon, and made a pot of coffee and a pitcher of Gatorade for breakfast.  The boys filled up and set out for a full day’s work.  And boy, did they work.  It was hot and humid, which made it prime conditions for the soot and ash to stick real good.

Daniel and Dominic catch a quick breath while the loader makes another dump.  They’re on the downhill side of the clean up efforts, thankfully.

The entire gang ~ assessing the situation while JG maneuvers the loader to pull Spanky out of the rubble.  Just pure brute force was the only way to get him out of there.  The guys had been working for several hours already ~ and I continued to ‘Mother Hen’ them, making sure they were drinking plenty of fluids and taking little breaks to cool off.  The boys had no choice in having a mother, but Darling Husbie and friends probably hadn’t anticipated the constant hounding nurturing.

Husbie had actually drug the Ramus and Gizmo out on Saturday.  I never thought I’d see the Ramus on his side.  I’ll admit, though, that I am grateful he is on his side under these circumstances rather than having occurred during one of our 4×4 excursions.  Still, my heart was filled with pain for Husbie as I could only imagine how difficult that was for him.  The reason for turning the Ramus on its side was to see if there was anything at all salvageable underneath.  The fire was so intense, the hubs were melted off and the front axle is warped in an arch.  Husbie thinks the trick oil pan may be salvageable, but that’s it.  And Gizmo ~ there’s just nothing left of Gizmo.

After the last bucket load of debris was cleared and dumped, we were left with the west wall still standing and the front and back walls which had fallen but not completely burned.  Luck was on our side that day.  The winds were calm.  We obtained permission through the County to do a controlled burn.  The guys knocked the wall down and piled the other wood pieces in a pile in the center of the cement slab, and I set about gathering and hooking our two remaining garden hoses to the spigots.  Let me just tell ya ~ for me, the paranoia flooded in.  I couldn’t stand the smell or the sound of the fire.

So, I headed to the garden and picked a couple pounds of wax beans to go with the dinner I had planned for this crew.  Shhhh!  Don’t tell Husbie this, but I was glad to see a little of his spunk trying to push through.  You see, there were a few spent aerosol cans remaining in the burn pile, and they made little explosions.  Yes, I was a little jumpy from the flashbacks.  Another thing you must realize ~ Husbie, explosive fireworks and I don’t mix real well.  So this is where the spunk comes in.  While my back was turned to the fire, while I was busy picking beans to feed him, my Darling Husbie may have thrown a few leftover 4th of July entertainment pieces into the fire.  He’s not admitting to anything, of course.  But, I came to this conclusion when I turned around and saw my Husbie standing there with his cohorts, all with very large grins on their face.

Finally, the fire ~ this time planned ~ had fizzled out enough that we could go inside.  Each member of the crew got a cool shower and a cold adult beverage.  The boys, of course, got a cold boy beverage.  The wife and darling baby girl of one of these crazy men joined us for dinner.  Our feast consisted of grilled steaks and pork chops, my now-famous black-eyed peas, some delicious wax beans and onions freshly picked from the garden and garlic mashed potatoes.  To top it all off, we devoured a delicious Key Lime pie brought by the crazy person’s doll of a wife.

It was a great ending to a super long, mentally and physically exhausting day ~ and a great reminder of just how blessed we are.  And the results of all this hard, filthy work?

One dumpster filled with 8,960 lbs of scrap metal and steel…

…and 16,290 lbs of pure, nasty ash and rubble.  Ugh.

The irony of it all?  With all of the rusty, poky, sharp and jagged stuff that was lifted, heaved and moved around out there, I was the only one who sustained an injury.  Heehee!  A grievous wound, indeed, I now sport a cute little pink scar.  Good thing pink’s my favorite color, eh?  There weren’t even any puncture wounds when one of the crazy men performed a completely unrehearsed, textbook-perfect stop, drop and roll maneuver over wood riddled with nails.  No, he wasn’t on fire.  He just lost the Sure Footing Challenge.  Anyway, my horrendous wound was a burn on my arm.  A result of the cement slab exploding and hot chunks of cement flying through the air.  I just happened to be standing in the wrong spot, or the right spot, depending on how you look at it.  Heehee!

So yes, you can see we’ve taken a step in the Shop Recovery Program.  Exactly what step we’re at, well, that’s yet to be seen.  But, it’s at least a step in the right direction!

Categories: Shop Disastrophy & Recovery
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