a BIG present

The little one is sucking up all my taskmaster juice, so once again, we are going into the past on this post. Mainly, April. With a splash of May.

Back in April, I turned 30, and relearned that Mike is quite the schemer when it comes to gift giving. Apparently this present had been in the works for years, crossed state borders, and come up against several almost got its! He usually builds up anticipation for the gift by dropping puzzling clues that I never seem to get right. This one he simply said would not be arriving on my birthday and that he might be in trouble.

Hmm …

So, on the night of my birthday, I ask to know what’s coming my way and why he might be in trouble. “Where’s your iPad?” he asks.

I pick it up, look at him, and wait.

“Check your email.” I pull it up, wait for the app to sync up, and there’s a new email from Mike titled: Card catalog.

The word might not mean much anymore. But librarians (and hipsters) it means SQUEE!

Still not sure what that means? Here’s a Google images search for you, which doubles as a trip down memory lane. Due to the wonderful invention of online catalogs, these hefty creatures have fallen out of practical use (like horses) and become more of a hobby (like horses). And I wants one! (Like a horse!)

The kicker is that most catalogs have been snatched up by opportunistic and nostalgic librarians, hipsters, and furniture upcyclers. They do not re-sell for cheap on Craigslist or garage sales, unless you get lucky enough to run into someone who doesn’t quite understand this niche market.

So, I’m looking at this email from a city clerk in a tiny town I hadn’t heard of and staring at cellphone shots filled with rows upon rows of card catalog drawers.

“Wait … what?” I said, looking at Mike, who was bouncing all over the room.

So, he proceeds to explain. For 3-4 years now, he’s been trying to get me a card catalog and had even enlisted the help of my friend in Minnesota and other family members. Either the catalogs were way too expensive or sold before he or his co-conspirators could get there. Then this one popped up as part of a city auction. It failed to meet its floor price. So, the city then opened it up to a silent auction via email, and Mike put in his bid.

“I think we got it, but she’s supposed to let me know for sure in the next couple of days,” said Mike. “Then we have to wait for the city council meeting for them to approve the sale.” City governments have procedures, folks, and by golly, they’re gonna follow them.

Poor Mike. I wasn’t jumping all around, because I was 1) still absorbing it and 2) not holding my breath. It dampened his triumph somewhat, but a few days later we got the thumbs up from the clerk … and then had to wait another week for the city council meeting.

And then it rained forever.

The catalog was a three and a half hours' drive west and too big to fit in my in-law’s Subaru, so our only option was to trailer it. When we had a sunny weekend, we actually had a wedding to attend a full state away … and then it continued to rain and rain and rain.

FINALLY - Mike makes the call one weekday morning. “I need your car before lunch. Dad and I are getting the catalog.”

It had been another bleak morning, but a few hours of non-rain were forecast that afternoon. Mike and Rick grabbed Blueberry and the trailer and rushed west, while I nervously eyeballed the radar. Later than evening they arrived triumphant … with a beast in tow.

Except for the metal sides of the 72 drawers (yes, 72 drawers!!), this thing is made of solid oak and it towers over us. 

Just some of the 72 drawers

The task of getting if off the trailer and up the steps into the house was a daunting one, to say the least. Good thing we’re a mile from a hospital.

While I watched like a nervous nelly and unloaded drawers, Mike and Rick inched the catalog off the trailer, veins in their necks popping from the strain. Once it was on the ground, the question became, would it ever leave the ground? They debated hand placement, got it lifted, and then managed to get to the base of the front steps before having to drop it.

“I don’t think we can carry it up the steps,” Mike said, after he caught his breath. I’ve seen both of these men do some hefty lifting, and this was the first time I’d ever see them contemplate surrender. Our neighbors were also watching from the driveway.

Maybe if we could ramp it? Mike and I grabbed the plywood off the trailer, but it was too short to get up the steps at any remotely safe angle, and it was clear they’d wind up surfing to their deaths on it. We needed a third lifter, but it was already approaching 8 p.m. We couldn’t leave the catalog in the front yard, especially with more storm clouds approaching, so the next task was getting it in the garage.

We grabbed the flat furniture dolly that we use to wheel the boat in and out of the patio door. This was another challenge in balance and tiny wheels getting stuck on sidewalk and driveway seams. Plus, our driveway has a slope that seems like a canyon face when you’ve got gravity urging Big Bertha to roll backwards on you.

Finally, it was in the garage, the 72 drawers were unloaded in the living room and kitchen.

Then the saga continued the next day with the help of our brother-in-law, who takes our abuse with a smile.

The garage steps are patio carpeted, so the mighty trio decided it might be best to slide the catalog on its side. We laid the car blanket on the hardwood in the kitchen and slid the catalog onto it, then continued sliding it across the house. Of course, there was still the step down into the living room, and Bertha can’t slide across carpet. Mike and I had shoved the couches out of the way to clear the way, so we could put the catalog in our empty, don’t-know-what-to-do-with-it corner of the living room. It won’t fit in the library itself, unfortunately.

The boys got it there … and I don’t think it’ll move until we move (hopefully decades from now).

That first night, Mike and I kept looking at it and saying, “Holy crap … that’s huge.” But within a day, it seemed like it was always there. It just kind of belongs in this house.

We have some ideas for it. Since Poppyseed is coming and those little fingers will definitely be fascinated, we’ll designate the lower half his or hers. We can put toys in there as well as maybe make learning games out of it (put all the blue things in that drawer, or find the red car, etc.). Up top will probably be craft stuff, cords, etc. I’ve seen these things turned into wine drawers (usually the smaller versions), shoe and scarf holders (in bedrooms), tool sorters, etc. We’re not going to paint it, but may re-stain it, and I want to do something fun with the label holders.

Someday, if we decide to, we might chop it in half, finish off the new sides, and add table legs, so we can split it into different rooms for different purposes. But that won’t be any time soon!