Fortress of Solitude

One thing I’ve learned in life is that a writer needs a quiet place to craft. No one understands this but other writers. It’s impossible to get in the zone with screaming kids, bellowing husbands, barking dogs and a house in a constant state of chaotic disarray.

Summer time is the best in the Midwest. It’s the time of year when an outdoor living room—in the form of a canvas and steel gazebo—can be constructed. When I sit out there, I activate a magical force field no one can penetrate. Even the neighbor children know better than to mess with me in there. My own family avoids the place like the plague.

Alas, my sweet gazebo fell victim to the early harsh winter last year. A sudden storm blew up the day I was taking it down, and before I could finish, the roof collapsed under the wind and ice. It was a sad moment in my life to know that it was gone forever. The frame still stood, but it would never again house my creative side.

Then the windfall. Ah, lovely green. I had a new gazebo—a better one than last time—and a long weekend in which to enjoy. All I had to do was put the silly thing up.

Well, let’s see—first there was taking down the old frame. Armed with bug spray and high SPF sunscreen, I set to work. It was a bit tough since all the bolts were rusted in place and the frame was bent, but an hour later, I finally had it down. The buffalo gnats took a good chunk of that time. You know, you have to swat, slap and swing at them as you go—and try every “home remedy” in the cabinet in an effort to dissuade the nasty buggers.

About halfway through the process, a neighbor showed up to help. Her presence was quite welcome. She’d also brought her daughter so our girls could entertain each other while we worked. It seemed like a good idea…

While I stripped out the screws, cursed profusely at the useless tools, and tossed a small fit or two, she busily pulled all the weeds and crap out of the patio seams. A gnat flew up my nose and bit my sinus. Another dose of bug spray and another layer of sunscreen set things aright. Then I mashed my right forefinger.

The kids wanted help to set up the slip and slide. I ordered them to do it themselves. Or have Dad help. “I’m busy!”

Once the frame was finally all down, we wrapped it up and pulled out the new package. I applied another layer of sunscreen on my brightening skin and got out the Yard Guard. The gnats swarmed in unison. I swear I could hear the little bastards in a collective laugh that sent chills down my spine. They went for my ears. I tried slathering myself in Listerine, which seemed to help—for about ten minutes. Neighbor Kim slapped herself in the face trying to get them away, which was mildly funny. I didn’t laugh, though. Free help is hard to find. We got back to work.

The little girls started to fight. It’s not unusual for them to do so. They’re much like sisters and sisters tend to fuss. When children fight, they want adults to referee. I was not in the mood and told them to get over it. Kim was far more conciliatory and wanted to know the details. Me? I figure they’ll work it out.

Now when I bought the gazebo, the carton was damaged, but it was the last one in town, so they promised I could have any parts off the display model if any were missing. So, okay, I bought it and took it home.

I was quite pleased with the construction once we had it all open. It appeared to have more going for it than just spot welds and thin, flimsy metal. The legs alone weighed quite a bit and were difficult to lift. I remember thinking, the wind ain’t gonna get this one. Even the anchor pieces were impressive—nice auger anchors that looked like the things you put in the yard to chain up a big dog.

The girls demanded Kool-Aid. Couldn’t they see we were busy? “Make your own Kool-Ade.”

The best laid plans of mice and men—or women who want a quiet place to write—can lead to pure hell. And then there are screaming girlies…

As Kim and I worked, we noticed a part missing. It was still quite early, so she did a quick count of all the other small parts and we headed back to Lowes. I like Lowes. Everyone there is friendly and helpful. Unlike Menards, they don’t load a 300 lb. package on a cart and say, “Take it to the checkout. Have a nice day.” These people will actually take care of their customers.

The only problem is they don’t allow the employees much access to tools. When the very nice young man was trying to get the small bracket I needed off the display model, he struggled with a pair of pliers and a set of channel-locks. I told him he needed an Allen wrench, but he told me he didn’t have one and wasn’t allowed to use those on sale.

This troubled me. I left him fussing with the problem and went in search of the tool isle. Ah, there it is. An Allen wrench. Just what we needed. “I think I need to buy this,” I told the kid. He grinned, snatched it and pulled the bracket off the frame. When he was done, I told him I didn’t think I would need the wrench after all. He grinned again and said he’d return it to the tool department.

An hour after leaving, Kim and I returned home to “finish” our job. First another spritz of bug spray, some vanilla to ward off the gnats and another layer of sunscreen. Then we took inventory of our children. The husband said they’d gone out to ride bikes. They returned in short order, snarking at each other again.

Time for lunch! What’s more perfect on a truly American holiday than baloney? So, baloney it was, with watermelon, chips and dip, topped off with Kool-Aid and a bite of chocolate. We were going to need a lot of chocolate to get through this day.

After lunch, we worked along for a bit until it started to sprinkle. Kim had to return home to pull the wash off the line. In her absence, the construction continued. A gnat committed suicide in my left eye. It took a couple of minutes to dislodge its disgusting carcass. Another one bit my right eyelid. Vermin! This time I tried a mixture of Listerine and vanilla. There was an angry buzz in my ear, but the little vampires left me alone…for a while.

Then I had to stop to do a little repair to my daughter’s bike. Even with the pile of tools I had on my work table, I didn’t have what I needed. I told her to find her father and have him fix it. Why did she have to run to me? Didn’t she see I was in the middle of a project?

My husband—not feeling his best—helped with the more difficult parts of construction. When we got to the point where we knew extra help would be needed, I played the helpless housewife and went in search of neighbor men.

Yes, we gals get by with that crap.

Anyway, with two wonderful neighbor men in tow (and hacking up a gnat that flew down my throat, in a most unladylike fashion), I returned home and together we all got the frame up and standing. Kim got back, telling me her husband had left and locked her out of the house. She was a bit flustered—okay, she was mad as hell—but had managed to get her wash in after finding the neighbor who had her extra keys.

That’s when she noticed another top bracket was missing. Oh, joy.

We took another inventory. Everything else appeared to be there. Back to Lowes.

This time, three people started to remove the same bracket. And I brought my own Allen wrench. It took no time at all and we were back on the road. Okay.

All the corner brackets were easy to put in place, except we were short some bolts. $%#@%^&*!!! No problem. I could make do. I would make do.

“Mom! I need help!” It was my offspring, harping about the latest emergency.

I’m not one of those nice, indulgent mothers. I have no idea what she needed and I don’t care. My only response was, “Unless blood is gushing or someone is unconscious, you best stay away from me.” She thought better of her request and headed the other direction.

Time to put the roof frame together. To say that I did a fair amount cursing would be an understatement. Some of the parts didn’t fit and others were missing. I was done. Unfortunately, the bugs weren’t. They chased me into the house.

Lowes is very busy today. It’s the Fourth of July and everyone who isn’t at a cookout is taking advantage of the holiday sales. Getting a manager on the phone was a challenge, but I am very persistent. When the poor man picked up, I launched into the tale of woe that was my day, about how I had been at the project since 9:00 AM and it was after 4:00 and I had company coming in less than an hour for dinner (not really, but he didn’t have to know that). I asked if I could trade what parts I had for the entire roof assembly and thereby make the best of all the gas I’d been burning and put an end to it. Then I took a breath. It’s hard to say all of that in a single breath of air.

He promised to have someone get right on it so that it would be taken apart before I got there. They were still working at it when I arrived and even had a member of management on the task. Gratifying to see, and not something you’d see at that other place.

It was like Laurel and Hardy. Neither man knew what he was doing, but they entertained the hell out of me, so it was fun to watch. They finished it, folded it like an umbrella in a cloud of display dust and the manager toted it out to my car. I gave him the parts I had and I was homebound again. (Almost wrecked when a gnat took a bite out of my lower lip.)

And tired. I needed to put some vinegar on my sunburn and calamine on my bug bites.

Kim and her daughter had gone home and I was fed up. Dinner was going to be late—a meal of bbq ribs, fried corn and taters with onions was what I planned. My feet hurt, my back ached and the roof frame ended up left in my car. I came inside and took stock of the situation. In the end, I sent the princess and the husband to shuck corn while I cleaned up my mess in the yard and headed off to the shower. The ribs didn’t get put on the grill. Instead, I poured sauce on them where they had been simmering in the crock, cut the corn off the cob and sliced up the tomatoes.

It didn’t turn out the way I planned and no Fortress as yet. Good thing, though. A sudden storm kicked up at dusk and the wind became treacherous. With just the frame standing, no harm was done. Kim said she’d come help me finish in the morning. If you’re in the neighborhood, you may wish to stop by for what promises to be a very entertaining few hours. Bring popcorn and your own lawn chairs.