My Husband: The Handiest Guy I Know
by Ronnie Citron-Fink

My husband has always been handy. He is the handiest guy I know. My father was handy. He could fix almost anything and small building projects were not out of his realm. But he was never in the same ballpark as my husband Ted. Many of you know Ted as a community planner here in Northern Dutchess. He may have a bunch of professional letters after his name, but behind the business demeanor; he is a toolbelt-toting tinkerer at heart. His talents go way beyond his office studio (which he of course designed and built).

On our first camping trip together in 1981, Ted was all excited to show me a tent that he created in college inspired by Buckminster Fuller's geodesic domes. This tent, with its sixty odd poles and a skylight, was a magnet for tent techies at the campsite. The first house we lived in and were married in was an A-frame on the Peterskill Creek in Ulster County. When he first introduced me to the home's Clivis Multrum Composting Toilet and the Stugis Wood Heat Thriftchanger, I knew our marriage would never be boring. When we bought our home in Rhinebeck on a few acres of land, it was described as a hunting cottage. He began immediately transforming it into the two-story energy efficient home of his dreams.

One thing I haven't mentioned about Ted is how connected he is to the outdoors and the environment. When I met him, he was just as comfortable sleeping in a homemade hammock outdoors as he was in our quaint A-frame on the stream. He still is today, When our kids were born, Ted built a tree house and created hiking trails through the woods for them to explore nature. As a planning consultant, Ted goes to many evening meetings and it was difficult for him to spend time with the kids and get all his building projects done on the weekends. So his solution was to move his office home. Now, I thought, we would renovate a room in our house and his computer and files would move in. No, he was already designing a detached studio to house his planning business, Greenplan.

After the completion of the studio, Ted seemed restless. Small home repairs didn't hold his interest as much anymore as his newfound love: kayaking. When he told me he was going to build a kayak, it certainly didn't surprise me. A few months later we had the most amazing seventeen-foot mahogany kayak. All we have to do to draw a crowd is drive that kayak on top of our car. The beauty of it could only be handmade. After dabbling in Adirondack-inspired rustic furniture, he was ready for a change.

So when Ted turned fifty I asked him what he would like to do—thinking we would take a trip. Traveling was furthest from his mind. He wanted to relax. I had already collected massage gift certificates and planned a small party with friends. Ted had a whole other idea. He wanted a hot tub. Great, I thought, anytime we wanted, we could have our own haven here at home. Ted had already researched traditional Japanese hot tubs, which he had experienced firsthand when he traveled there. We ordered a cedar hot tub from Sea Otter Designs in Alaska, along with a Chofu Woodstove (directly from Japan) to heat the tub. This was certainly untraditional by American standards. Hot tubs generally don't get fired up, they get turned on. He then set out to design and build a deck to surround the tub. Like I mentioned earlier, environmental issues are important to Ted. There would be no pressure-treated wood and certainly no artificial decking material. Also, the wood had to be from a local source, and it had to be sustainably harvested. That's when he discovered Barrytown resident Jeff Olsen and his almost endless supply of black locust logs downed during a recent hurricane. As fast as Ted could build, Jeff would mill 2 x 6 boards for the deck. As the farmers say, black locust will last a year longer than a stone. It's known for its extreme decay resistance. In this area it's an abundant and untapped natural resource.

Months later we have a truly unique and aesthet-ically beautiful deck adorned by our hot tub. Sitting next to the deck is this really cute wood stove. I can't say that at times I wouldn't mind turning on a switch whenever I wanted to take a dip, but it certainly is easy enough to build a small fire and check the temperature. There is something very primal about it. Maybe it's the ambiance of the crackling wood sounds or the scent of cedar, but I wouldn't trade it for the electrical option. I also appreciate that our hot tubbing is free (we have an abundance of downed trees on our property). Hot tubbing has certainly become part of the culture of our family. More evenings (and some early mornings) than not, whatever the outdoor temperature, we unwind in our tub. My teenage children invite their friends over to tub (the later the better for them). We never have dinner guests over without telling them to bring a bathing suit. Even our elderly parents have taken the plunge.

Ted certainly got what he wanted, a place to relax. I wonder now if that was his objective, since just re-cently we were enjoying our hot tub on a very cold snowy night and Ted mentioned that it would be great if we had a shelter for our cars. He went on to explain to me that the garage is filled with power tools, building materials and his fleet of boats (two kayaks, a canoe and a small fishing boat). Now the cars have no place to go to get out of the elements. As we emerged from the tub, he motioned me over to some papers. There were photographs of a hike we took in the High Peaks area of the Adirondacks last fall. I had not noticed the Craftsman-style Carport that we passed on our way to the trailhead. He had taken a picture and was waiting for the finishing touches to be put onto the deck to unveil his next project to me. I've come to realize that this is his way to relax, and I'm already looking forward to retiring my car's ice scraper.