Mean Streets

What does one say when finding this notice on the front door of her humble abode?

The correct answer is: Now???



Now that we’re supposed to get four solid days of rain, after a completely dry 2 ½ weeks?

Now that I’m supposed to be hosting my book club here tomorrow afternoon, meaning eight women will be parking their cars (where ours are) up on the cross street, and hoofing it down the hill to our house?

Now that this means you’ll barely have the street open for us to bring the car we’re not taking to Pittsburgh back to the garage while we’re gone? (Yeah, that’s going in my archives as the worst sentence I’ve ever written…. I think I’ll keep it.) I’m sure our neighbors up on the cross street would not appreciate having our car there an extra week!

Yes. Now.

Btw, another of the 'bookees' agreed to host (thanks, Linda!) and we averted that crisis! (I insisted on taking the dessert, since I was already psyched to make it-- will tell you about that-- and provide the recipe soon!)

So bright and early the next morning, in came the big equipment, shaking the street and rattling the windows. Soon the cutting began. The concrete saw did its thing, and loudly sliced the old slabs into sections. Then a mechanical ram (possibly hydraulic?) street-buster turned the sections into chunks o’ concrete. It was all kind of like a slice-and-dice operation, but on the street instead of an onion.

Meanwhile, the house was shaking like crazy, and I had to wonder what this will do in terms of settling, foundation cracks, door frames, and my weight loss. (I always have to wonder about that, even when it’s totally unrelated. You know, “Does this concrete mixer make my butt look big?” --stuff like that.)

When the shake, rattle and roll stopped, the pre-mix truck came down to pour all new slabs. And a crew of non-hottie guys did the smooth and finish stuff.

So because he’s as big a nerd as I am (though often about totally different things,) the Center of the Universe (CoTU) went outside and shot some videos of the festivities. And now, because he’s a bigger attention whore hound than I am, he wants me to post them here.

And to make the whining and whimpering stop, I’m doing it. Besides, I’m pretty sure that our 3-year old grandson will get to see the video this way! (No, he’s not a subscriber [yet] but his mom’s a frequent reader.) And he’s all about the streets and the signs. So this one’s for you, Zachary: check it out!