Usually Mr. G and I spend our summer holidays together galavanting the highways to nowhere and somewhere and taking in the sights and scenery because after all, “It is a big world out there,” as he would say. But the idea of a staycation in my neck of the woods was very appealing this summer, mostly because there’s a lot to do around here and my “to do” list wasn’t getting any smaller just by looking at it.
And then there is my staycation fun list, and kayaking is at the top. It’s always at the top. I had grandiose ideas about packing up my tent and sleeping bag and stuffing the kayak to the gills with survival gear, a cooking pot, boxes of Kraft Dinner, and heading to the lake for a few days. I’d even considered taking Earl the Duke of Here along with me. He could ride up front and watch for dead heads and snapping turtles. I would video him standing on the bow in his kitty cat lifejacket. I would start my own Instagram page and YouTube channel featuring our water sport adventures.
But here’s what really shook out on the two week vacation we just finished — and this is what happens when Mr. G eats marvellous Double Dutch cookies (double waffles with a special chewy filling) made by Schep’s Bakery of Norwich, Ontario, that he has renamed “Philosopher Cookies” because of all the ideas the cookies inspire in him, most of which are more project ideas for this neck of the woods.
My 51-year-old garage roof with 51-year-old shingles covered in eight inches of pine needles had been sending me SOS messages every time it rained. As if turning a blind eye to the damage from the outside wasn’t enough, I was sure to find the sopping wet mess inside the garage where it leaked. It needs to get fixed, he said. Okay, I said.
So in a moment of confidence, four mostly healthy knees between us, and absolutely no idea what we were getting into in terms of duration, Mr. G and I took it upon ourselves to repair the garage roof and on the first Monday of our holidays we went supply shopping and jumpstarted the economy at the local hardware store. I rarely go there but by the time my staycation was over I was a regular customer. 13 bundles of shingles, plywood for the roof and soffits, ice shield, tar paper, fascia boards, roofing nails, paint, and my Visa was screaming “put me down!”
We were the holiday roof warriors even as the weather roasted us like chickens on a hot tin roof. While Mr. G stepped gingerly on the roof shovelling the ancient shingles into the truck bed, I was in charge of tearing off the old fascia and soffit. Every once in a while I would hear a roof board cracking and a Yip from the G-man. I don’t know how he did it but he never fell through to the cement floor and there was plenty of rot to allow that to happen. We climbed up and down ladders for days. The fastest I have ever climbed down a ladder was the day a hornet or some such evil insect with an obvious nest somewhere in the old roof structure felt the need to sting me in my face cheek while I was ripping off fascia boards. Another trip to town for wasp spray.
Each evening for many a day we were former shadows of our morning selves waddling to the house exhausted. Each night we took a shower, washed our construction shorts, soothed our insect bitten skin, and had a beer maybe two as we talked about our fantastical project. We were a spinoff to the 1980s Golden Girls television show. We could barely see the end of the adventure but had settled in as the Golden Shinglers, mostly because “Two People in Their Sixties Who Should Know Better” would not fit on a work shirt.
Over the days that came and went, Mr. G nailed in the new roof wood and built a new portion of rake boards for the front while I painted fascia boards for installation. Then blessings! help arrived on Day 6 and we were saved by a couple of awesome family members who showed up with Daughter #2 and helped take the project to the next level and we had a new shingled roof in a jiffy.
In the remaining staycation days that followed, Mr. G and I finished off installing the new soffits and Voila! we were really golden. Golden 60-something roofers, golden and not past our prime renovators with stiff knees, sore hands, and pride in a job well done. Thanks Honey!
