Anyway, I always hated the threaded rod; I though it was ugly and it made the roof ring take up extra space in the truck, so I suggested that if the support structure was going to be exposed, we should upgrade it to wood. So we went to Home Depot, got the materials, and also picked up some nifty tools for me to use to work soapstone and some cable ties, the purpose of which will become clear shortly.
I did the drawing of the arches, and Wolfie did the cutting. (We really need some sawhorses; using the tailgate of the truck is just LOUD.) They fit together like a charm, and then the rest was just drilling holes for the support brackets and screwing it all together. Then we set up the tent in the driveway (we can't decide if the neighbors thought it was cool or weird), put up the roof, , and marked where we want the center point to be so we can scribe, mark, and cut a circle tomorrow, when there's light.
Oh, and in case you were wondering, the smoke hole is not to let smoke out. When it's warm, we can lift the bottom edge of the walls and uncover the smoke hole and create a convection current to cool off the interior. We have a storm flap to throw over it, should it rain.
That wasn't the most interesting thing to happen today, though. The junkyard caught on fire again.
There's a used parts lot across the street, and every now and again, things blow up over there. I've called 911 about fires on this street at least three times: twice to the junkyard and once for the trash that someone set on fire in front of the junkyard. This time I didn't have to -- and the firetrucks were on their way before the gas tank exploded (big boom). There were eight other smaller booms that we think were exploding tires. Luckily the wind was blowing away from the house, so we didn't get to verify our suspicions by smelling and tasting the smoke (junkyard fires taste like shit). It took them a long time to knock down, too. They were still hosing down hot spots when we finished and went inside at 9pm.
It was weird to see. There we were, doing our thing in the yard, and across the street was this fire and fire trucks and this huge plume of smoke. (The blue house on the right is ours, BTW; we share a driveway with the pinky-beige house.) You kind of get used to it, I guess. I mean, fires happen in the best of neighborhoods, just... y'know. Not as often.