So a maple man, a mail man and a tall guy walk into a shop...

Gramma says I have some really great friends so I'd like to reiterate that I've got some really REALLY great friends. The sorts of folks who come help at a moments notice until late into the evening without the slightest promise of doughnuts or dinner. Thankfully, Gramma is incredibly thoughtful and provided cookies and coffee to the crew.

Eben, or the "maple man" as Gramma calls him, lends his sticky hands to the work after working long days prepping his maple syrup operation. He is polite to a fault, washing his hands to avoid getting sticky paw prints all over my smooth birch plywood. I'm glad I haven't used any maple sticks in this constructions, otherwise Eb might start installing taps when I'm not paying attention.

Joel, or the "mail man" is actually a mailman. His beard and gentle demeanor allow him to brave 

both bad weather and bad attitudes as he brings your unwanted property tax statements and IRS audits. He also sports the most authentic "Minnes-oh-tan" accent of anybody I know. He also uses "youbetcha" as a normal part of everyday speech.

Sam, or the "tall one" (thanks again Gramma) has everything the typical redhead has. He is an overflowing well of good luck, good skill, bad eyesight, but somehow avoided having a temper of any kind. He's probably the most competent carpenter of the bunch and can easily reach things that I would otherwise have to jump for.

 So with the crew assembled and storytelling diminishing, we begin to piece together the bulkheads, frames, transom and stem. The extra hands make it remarkably easy to balance and adjust otherwise awkward lengths of wood. Someone gets the epoxy mixed, someone drills pilot holes and countersinks, while another mans the stainless screws. Suddenly, the whole works stands up on it's own.

I am giddy with excitement, but I find a mistake to bring me back to the level. My main cabin bulkhead is about a half inch too short when we line it up against the hulls sides. Without thinking too much further, I decide to level the top edge and confront the fact of having to install some shimming underneath the bulkhead before the bottom of the hull will go on. I feel a twinge of pain in my frontal lobe everytime I make an error like this as I mentally calculate how many extra minutes(hours) of sanding it will take to properly rectify the boo-boo in question.

With glue set and screws driven, we are all suddenly confronted with something very boat shaped. Not only boat shaped, but big boat shaped. We slide it from side to side just to have adequate walking space around.

Even more exciting now, the rub rails will go on next and then the great friends will be needed again to roll this thing over. I can feel myself bouncing along the waves already.