Just another WordPress.com site

The Legend of Klacksang

There is an ancient legend of a powerful samurai warrior, who lived deep in the Shianzi mountains, across the jade river in the Hunan Province. This powerful warrior was feared and respected throughout all the land; renowned for his wisdom in passing judgement on quarrels and disagreements. Warlords, emperors and even the commoners would cross the jade river and brave the arduous hike up the steep slopes of the Shianzi mountains to sit at the feet of the samurai warrior in his dojo high atop the highest peak. It was here the powerful warrior passed his judgements with both tongue and steel. When his judgements were not heeded by those who sought him, the warrior was forced to unsheathe Klacksang, his ancient blade, which was said to be forged from the metal of a heavenly body that plummeted to earth many empires past. With Klacksang in hand, it became an extension of his arm, reverberating with the power of elements not born of this world. Those who refused his judgements and quarreled would taste the justice of Klacksang. The sword’s song would sing out as it would cut through the flesh of the wicked, seeming to drink in the purity of the justice it was administering. And so the Hunan province was kept in order and the stature and wisdom of the legendary warrior grew beyond the borders of the Shianzi mountains. But then the recession of 2008 hit. Gas prices skyrocketed and our warrior could no longer afford the drive to pick the rarest flower which grew atop the next peak over and which provided him with exfoliating relief from the chaffing handle of Klacksang. His investments in foreign oil took a beating when the US moved the 5th Marine core into Iraq in 2002 and with the rising success of the  Chevrolet volt, eco-car. Not surprisingly, the final blow which caused the collapse of the legendary warrior of the Shianzi mountains, in the province of Hunan who lived across the jad river was not in fact the cold steel of a quarreling warlord, but the E coli laced bean sprouts from northern Germany which he had brought in special order for his usual Samurai Soup Sunday. Broken, destitute and his body ravaged from E coli induced diarrhea, the warrior turned to the Kajiji for help. He sold Klacksang to the highest bidder and bought the first plane ticket to the University Hospital in Cleveland, which has a special medical wing dedicated to Samurai suffering from acute E coli symptoms.  Friends, this is where the story comes home. Turns out Klacksang was sold to a culinary expert in Sioux Lookout who craved a finer cut of French Fries and was hoping Klacksang would give him the edge he needed. Sadly, his 4 year old took Klacksang to Grade 2 show-and-tell, where it was handled by grubby cheez-whiz hands all morning long before being tossed into the bed of the wrong pick up truck by the teacher at the end of the day. Lo and behold, that pickup truck belonged to one of the guys on our Contractor’s framing crew who soon discovered that Klacksang makes a far better exacto knife for cutting vapour barrier than his leatherman. At the end of the work day, when Anne and I came for our regular visit, alas, we entered the master bedroom, and there laying forlorn and rejected on the floor, was the mighty klacksang.

The mighty Klaxsang, formerly of the Shianzi Mountains in the Hunan Province, across the jade river.

Upon seeing this mighty blade in such a sad state, I did the only thing I could think of given such short notice to help assuage the sword’s suffering.

Klacksang joining me for a shower in the ensuite.

So, besides taming the mighty Klacksang, it has been a ridiculous week of business at the Castle de JoAnne. You know what the keyword has been this week? Starts with “s” and ends with “hingles”. I know that none of us have time for difficult word games at the end of our busy workdays, so how about you glare at me, and say “Joe, just start the pictures already”. Sheesh, ok, here we go.

Proper credit goes to Susan Hostedler for taking this photo as she strafed the block with her husband last week in their Messerschmidt 109. Kinda scared me - I was screaming for Anne to get on the .50 until I realized that duh, the .50 isn't installed until our shingles are on. Not alot of people mount a .50 on their roofs. I tell you what, it's a great stress reliever after a tough day of work just to say "hun, if you don't mind I am gonna hop on the .50 for awhile". You head up to the roof, strap yourself in and just unleash a hot torrent of lead at you know....like.........whatever....ahem. Good pic Susan, thanks.

I knew a girl way back in grade school who had a condition called "shingles". This is not that condition.

Apparently the shingels are called "Aged Redwood". Everything sounds better with "Aged" put in front of it though, so I think its partially a marketing ploy. Aged wine. Aged cheese. Aged ancient ruins. Aging Ape who was out of shape. In fact, maybe I'll insist that "Aged" be put in front of my name in a few more years for an extra bit of "phazzaz".

The Steve also was quite aggressive in fenestrating our house. Yes, that is a word, although no, I don’t blame you for thinking I would just make up a word. In fact it is typically used in the sense of “de-fenestrating” which is, in plain English “to throw someone or something through a window”. So in fact, fenestrating is basically the constructive part of installing windows rather than breaking them. Hence, Steve our contractor has been quite the fenestrator this week.

This is just asking for a tearful encounter with our son, who one day after defenstrating Daddy and Mommy's living room, comes to Daddy and says with a crisp 5 year old slur "theriously dad, the ball thlipped and it thust thorta flew through the window by itthelf.......I'm thooooo thorry! PLEASE DON'T THPANK ME!" It's ok son, why don't we play a round of golf and you give your mother and I back rubs tonight and we'll call it even.

The view from the bridge of the ship of love. Known to the common man as the "living room". I prefer to be alive in all the rooms of my house, so I find the term "living room" quite redundant. I am not building any dying rooms. Bridge of the Ship of Love will do nicely, thank you.

For date night the other week, Anne and I grabbed some burgers and fries and headed out for a true 5 star dining experience. We set up some sawhorses in the kitchen, and made a table with a piece of plywood. We then toasted life, love and other mysteries (such as – would my brother notice if we slowly started stealing fence sections to make out own????)

Food. Ambiance. Hot babe. A typical day eating in my kitchen.

Trust me, these fries were delicious, but OMW, I am sure the oil and grease from the blubber of a Buluga whale went into making this plate of heart attack evilness. This picture actually took a full half hour to upload because of the amount of grease in those fries.

We were also pretty stoked because our jacuzzi was delivered to site. It has more buttons and switches on it than Apollo 13. Neil Armstrong, we are going to need to talk after all. Show me how to work this thing and together we can blast off into a world of total relaxation; preferably separately. No Neil, you can’t borrow my shorts. Yes Neil, I remembered to account for the optimal angle of tranquility when filling the tub. Moonwalkers. They think they know everything.

Houston, we have a problem. We got no water, and Neil keeps spraying me with a super soaker. He is adrift inthe harbour of my patience Huston.

But dear friends, as I bring this senseless bloggage romp to an end, I  come to my usual favorite photo subject I like to close with. The real reason I love building this house is because of this person…….

My amazing, beautiful wife. I have no idea why she is sweeping up a construction site, but how can you say no to that smile? SWEEP ON!

There is no other person on earth I would want to do this with. My amazing wife………wow……she captures the best parts of what God made a woman to be and then blasts me with it ever day. The absolute best part of this process is watching her, and soaking up her excitement which is literally exploding out of her every time we go to site. I love this woman something fierce……so blessed we can build this home together……it doesn’t even make sense. Our Father in Heaven we thank you – from the bottom of our hearts.

To my wife…..I am the video game and you are the code.

Bloggage out.


4 responses

  1. Irene Sue Byler

    Oh Joe, You did it again! Great pictures…Great blog 🙂 I’m so blessed to have you for a nephew & your precious wife for a niece! Love you guys! Hopefully some day I can see your house! Auntie Irene

    June 21, 2011 at 9:18 am

    • Aww…..Auntie Irene, you are so dang sweet. I miss you a bunch and wish you could come visit us an sip from the flaggon of happiness in our kitchen:) One day! The door is always open to any of our fabulous family from Ohio…..

      June 21, 2011 at 5:50 pm

  2. Susan

    ~Joe, I am honored to have my work featured on your blog!
    ~My favorite line in this post is your reference to the Aging Ape!
    ~I love your closing line “To my wife…” even tho’ I have no idea what it means! It sounds romantic nonetheless!
    ~Amy was too embarrassed to write this, but I am not! So in her words, “Did you see Joe’s hilarious typo in his blog? He’s going to steal Clement’s fence sections to make out on!” LOL

    June 22, 2011 at 8:29 am

  3. I’m really loving the theme/design of your weblog.
    Do you ever run into any browser compatibility issues?
    A number of my blog visitors have complained about
    my blog not working correctly in Explorer but looks great in Firefox.

    Do you have any suggestions to help fix this problem?

    August 2, 2014 at 12:40 am

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s