Here is a recent picture of Rob, our framer, building the roof of our home. (It was 9 billion degrees, poor guy!) But, as exciting as it is to watch the house go up, I can't actually see the whole thing from the front; there are still piles and piles of dirt from the digging of the basement. They block the beautiful view.
I told our contractor that he needed to teach me how to use his backhoe so I could move the piles. (We are trying to absorb as much dirt as possible so we don't have to pay $$$ to haul it away.) He said, "Just get in, turn it on and start moving stuff until you figure it out!"
I hope he wasn't joking.
He doesn't know me very well yet.
I did get in and I did start it and I did move things around a bit,
but then I called my dad and he gave me an actual lesson.
My dad knows how to do everything.
Things were a bit scary the first day because I was super concerned that I would run into my finally-being-built house. I've kept at it and with the practice feel like I'm starting to get the hang of driving the backhoe and moving the dirt.
I'm not great yet, but I'm having fun learning!
Yesterday, I hopped in and started the engine. Right away, there was a wasp making fairly aggressive movements. I don't usually have a problem with bees, so I tried to just shoo it away.
It wouldn't be shooed.
Then, all of the sudden, there were 2, 3, 5, 8, 15 wasps.
More and more, they continued to come.
They were swirling in some kind of mad dance.
My skin began to erupt in pain.
Now, the cab of the backhoe isn't super large and the machine doesn't have a gear called park.
I'm frantically trying to fight off the wasps and get the equipment stable and stopped without pushing any buttons or bumping any sticks.
Finally, with the backhoe safe, I jumped out of the thing and ran for some wasp killer.
They are all dead.
All of them.
Even their friends who came later and weren't present for the initial destruction.
And their little babies.
Hey, I've got dirt to move, baby!