repressed memories

My parents added onto our house starting when I was in the eighth grade. You know that thing where your parents get into something when you're a kid, and you have to help, and sometimes you'd really rather be goofing off? Apparently I paid too much attention because when I watched my husband mix up some grout today, he was explaining how you have to get the consistency just right, and when he got there, I recognized it.

Also, there is a road here in Tucson named N. Super Chicken Dr. (Zoom in once to see it.)