I was surprised at how nervous I was when the foundation crew poured the concrete.  The commitment to the whole process seemed overwhelming.  What if it’s not right?  First, they drilled out the holes, scarring the earth in our back yard.  They carefully set the rebar and filled the holes with concrete.  And then it rained, hard (Texas-style), for two days.  We covered every inch of our shoes with thick, sticky mud, watching and deliberating on the progress of the form work that would help create the garage slab, and raised foundation for the living space.  Concrete has a level of permanence that is striking.  It starts off fluid, and in a matter of hours, is as hard as rocks.  We know, because we missed the opportunity to permanently cast our names in the slab by waiting too long.

These guys who are able to mold a material so fluid and heavy, are amazing.  I remember back when we thought we could tile our own bathroom, and proceeded to glue the tiles to the wall and floor.  My husband, Joe, took on the task of grouting the tiles.  In spite of, or perhaps because of, his engineering training back in college, he decided working with fluids was impossible.  It takes an artist’s skill set to push it around such that it hardens into something beautiful, like this concrete crew did.

It helps too that the light was beautiful this one day out of six.  We couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day to make our permanent mark on this earth.  He agrees…

And now that the concrete is set, it’s hard to second-guess the decision to move forward in the way that we have.  The design is set in stone, we are resigned to what we’ve created, and feel confident in its right-ness for us.