These chapters are best viewed in order:
Design
Foundation
First Story
Second Story
Second Story Addition
Roof 
My father was an architect, designing schools, labs and offices. A part of every vacation was looking at buildings along the way. As an adult, I'm still learning that many of those were not actually his, but destinations for us which he viewed like an artist in a museum. Early memory for me is of a bewildered weary group of kids on the sidewalk looking up, looking around, going in, coming out, and back in the car again.
My earliest memory is awakening from my nap to see a giant steam shovel ("Mike Muligan!" my Mom called) approach the house to make mountains of dirt for me to run over.
We had five additions put on this architect's home. It was not unusual to see it featured in Sunday supplements or a part of house tours. On a little lane, cars often slowed down and circled back past the house of glass. At night, they could see right in and, mischeivously, we'd be five little kids dancing wildly.
My father built the original house on evenings and weekends after the War, moving into a small unfinished space with his wife, her grandmother, and their baby. He built the master bedroom after the second child, just before me.
The living room came next with memories not only of the excavator as mentioned, but also of our dog falling into the cellar hole, my first time on a ladder (2 rungs), men with sledge hammers knocking holes in our wall. The "Girls' Wing" was built in 1961 when I was old enough to hold boards for my Dad and learned a mouthful of curses, a carpenter's tool when things still don't fit right after the third cut.
In 1967, after several years successfully designing buildings for a new company with the strange name of "IBM", and a house full of teenagers, he designed a 2 story redwood work of art. Completely separate from the main house with a pool table and fireplace, the Octagon is counted by many at high school reunions to be one of the best memories of the day.
Finally, the pool was added in the back after the kids had mostly moved into their own lives--my first job as a contractor. Painted black to reflect the impression of a pond, rhoddendrons and sculptures dangle over the water, and natural stones of all shapes come right to the edge.
A home divided by plastic walls and still coated with dust is normal to me. Plans on the table, sketches of addtions never built, talk of the next project is completely familiar, invigorates my brain like food in the belly.
I am born and bred a remodeler.
First Story
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