Some pics of the new banister...great edit!

Song of the day: “Sing, sing, sing” by an unknown artist, I would say, since I looked it up and got to hear the original voice that I didn’t recognize at all. Hah. But anyway, it’s a cool song, very cheerful, very SWING, so I guess that put me in a good mood.

Like yesterday I was about half an hour late waking up. Forgot to reset my alarm on my usual time, and left it where it stood. Ah well, I could use the extra sleep, so it was not necessarily a bad thing.

After the morning rituals, doing a quick cleaning of Bommel’s ears (poor bobtails, their ears are always a horror) and getting through the morning chores we have to postpone the day’s edit, and head for town instead. Yesterday we noticed that a payment was made to the Ford Ranger’s insurance, so now we head for our insurance agent to inquire after it.

Upon arrival, it turns out that it is an automatic payment and that we have to go to my bank to cancel it, while, on the other hand, the new insurance bounced for some reason, darn it, so that means that tomorrow we have to go out again to look into the matter, darn it.
It is not a huge problem, but it does eat into editing time when it really shouldn’t, darn it.

But, since we’re out anyway, we decide to drop by the supermarket to get a batch of veggies for the next few days, so with a little luck we should be able to stretch the groceries, ‘till at least Friday, and hopefully even Saturday.
Once we get home, I take a quick dip in the pool and then we dive into the edit for the next couple of hours, before the time to work outside arrives again.

The weather is still remarkably mild, all things considered; a wonderful 27 degrees and a cool sea breeze still blowing land inward. I don’t get it, but I do appreciate it. This particular effect of climate change sure helps our electric bill. Hah. Heck, during the nights it’s downright chilly.

I make a batch of cement by hand…as I’ve been doing for the past couple of weeks…and for the next few hours we work on doing some touch-ups to the wall, where the fence floats. We attach the last bit of the fence to the banister and then admire the end-result since the sibs have spent their time painting the wood in the same color as the cabin and the carport.

Things are definitely starting to look great…though I gotta admit that it has a zoo-ish overall style. I swear I wouldn’t be one bit surprised at seeing a giraffe, or an elephant behind that fence. Hah.
Here, have a look/see:


The view from the pool. It's a little blurry, 'cause it was really late, but I do love the way it looks. This was prior to painting.



This is the new terrace in front of my cabin. Oh my, I can actually walk there now. It's just so...flat! Hah. Chaos in front, Bommel in the back, and Gadah on the right with Amri's butt.



Banister on the side of the tower. It may have come out a little higher than intended, thus the Zoo-like look.



Banister on the opposite side under the Mimosa tree we had to mutilate.



The short section on which we worked today. It needs to be painted still, but it's solid at least.



The small wall by my cabin. So handy to have a tap there now, and I thought the rather peculiar pattern looks quirky.


The middle of the banister. Knight II, right there in the middle, surrounded by Amos (on the right) and Planni (on the left). Our big lug!


But anyway, as we have promised ourselves, once we finish up nailing the last piece of fence to the poles, we get in the car (little sister comes along) and drive farther up the mountain to get in a quick run before the end of the day. So it’s a good run, downhill at the start and up going back, so I’m seriously out of breath when we return to the car and spend the next thirty minutes or so doing the cool down exercises.

That done, and dusk almost there, we head home in time for a late dinner that mom prepared, and watch an episode of “Bones”. It’s a rerun, but since we never saw the beginning of the show, this isn’t a bad thing for a change. I try to trim Touri’s ears, which are a disaster areas, but the cocker spaniel acts like I’m going to ritually slaughter him, so I finally release him and resign in the knowledge that I need to get tranquilizers from the vet in order to get the task done soon.

Before I know it the evening has come to an end, and I head up to my cabin. We manage a solid edit of five pages, yay! Okay, I could barely keep my eyes open, throughout the procedure, but it was grand.

By the time we bring up the day’s quota to, not five, six, or seven, which would have been grand on any day, but NINE. Count them, 9! Yay. But then it’s time to get to bed. I’m definitely feeling the full day, but that’s a good thing; it’s the ol’ bod letting me know that it gave everything it could on this day. Hah.

Stuff, and a serious question.

Song of the day: “Grace Kelly” by Mika, again. I wonder if my head has depleted its resources, sticking with the songs I actually know. I hate repeats in this sort of thing. Nice song, though. Very up beat, even though it was made out of pure frustration. Hah.

I had a most annoying dream. I cannot recall the exact details that led up to the event, but what I do remember is that I was running up the incline, to find my cabin on fire. Well, technically, it was already smoldering and while I was staring at the ravages, I saw the worst thing ever: My laptop had burned with it, and resembled a clump of molten plastic and tiny metal pieces. I stood there, feeling miserable, when I suddenly remembered that everything is backed-up on big brother’s computer…as well as on those of the younger sibs. Now, this realization is odd for me under those circumstances, since usually, when I have these kinds of dreams, I will be so desolated that I can hardly think at all. I definitely see it as a good sign, in light of not feeling out of sorts for the remainder of the day.

When the alarm goes off this morning-I actually wake three minutes before it-I’m feeling remarkably refreshed. The air is cool, the sun is shining, and I fully enjoy it all while I do my stretches and get ready to head for the house.

Trin Trin is being her monstrous self, of course. She just can’t learn to just quietly walk along; instead, she is ferociously attacking the rubber pipe I always carry with me for this very occasion. Better she hangs in the pipe than in my leg. Hah. Like I’ve said many times, the Monster Boxer is insane. I’ve tried everything, but once she gets that look in her eyes, she’s unstoppable.

Once we have gone through the usual morning routines big brother and I settle behind the computer to finish the edit.
Yes, we’ve finished it! At long last!…the rewrite-edit at least, and I am positively thrilled. With a little luck, we’ll be able to actually enjoy the read-through edit now that the hard stuff was dealt with.

We spent another half hour or so going over the query letter and then it is time for us to depart for town. We have an appointment with an insurance broker, and in order to make it, we have to hurry. We arrive right on the dot and go over the particulars of the policy with the agent. It is a simple thing, really; filling in some forms, getting the quote again and then signing the paper I get shoved in my hands.

We’re out of the place in less than and hour to quickly visit the supermarket…if we get a few essentials we might actually make it through to next week without needing to do the massive bimonthly shopping spree. Which would be grand, for all considered. There are so many constructive things to do than waste money on grocery shopping. Hah.

When we return home, fresh veggies and fruit loaded in the back, we spent a few minutes bringing it all inside, and then change into work clothes to tackle some minor outside chores. During the course of the day, the temperatures have risen considerably, and though in the shadows it is rather pleasant, no one is really in the mood to build.

Instead, we cultivate the new terrace, spreading the dirt that was thrown there, watering plants and doing some digging…well, technically little brother did the digging since my wrists are still a bit iffy. (They don’t hurt anymore, but feel a tad…ehm, fragile, if that makes any sense).

Since I’m using the hose anyway, I spend over an hour cleaning the four new stairs that were made over past few months. They look gorgeous, by the way, all sort of flat rocks, their colors ranging from black to bright reds and whites, now clear contrasts since the sand is removed.
I gotta take pictures tomorrow.

That done, I quickly tackle the laundry and do some more cleaning-in the courtyard this time-before heading inside to have a much needed slice of pizza. Cold and a day old it tastes even better, and I thoroughly enjoy it, prior to setting up the computers and starting on a planned search of the net. Though we have continuously researched publishers over the past few months, we want to make sure that none of the set “rules” changed over time.

Pretty certain about which companies qualify to receive a copy of the soon-to-be-fully-finished manuscript, we’re pleased to be up-to-date once again, and then take to re-reading the query letter that is supposed to “sell” the story to complete strangers.

I still don’t get why I have to sell it-I used to think that the story speaks for itself-but I’ll oblige by learning how. Hah. While discussing the intricacies of the publishing world, big brother and I ponder the possibility of changing the title of the manuscript. I’ve read somewhere that even the title can turn an editor/agent off, so it is an option that I’ve always kept open.

Once reaching my cabin, we start to brainstorm, going over all sorts of options, which we’ve brought down to a selection of choices.

If you have time, do read through them and let me know what you think would be a catchy title. Up until now, the working title is: SAVING NINA.
I like it well enough. No matter what this title will always be this book to me, but just in case it doesn’t ring “right” I want to have a back up.
I know, it’s a difficult question to answer; but, if you were looking for a psychological thriller (a bit of romance and humor thrown into the mix), which type of title would likely catch your attention?

1. Broken (the sad note)
2. All of them (romance but deep)
3. Out of bounds (the general note)
4. My turn (the funny note)
5. Unleashed (ominous)
6. Multiplicity (familiar, but fitting)
7. Turn (simple and catchy)

Or if you think of something else that might fit with spies, intrigue, sects, and a multiple personality heroine making life hard for the tracker hero, feel free to throw it in. I’m always open for suggestions.

Grocery day and... Memories

Another sunny day in Spain with the alarm blaring in my ear at the usual wake-up time. The daily tussle with the dogs ensues before I pry the front door open and groan at my persistant and demanding need to fall face down on the bed once more and catch some more zzzzs.

I don't, of course, since this is bound to break into the few hours available on my computer- even when I know that I'll have little of that today when grocery shopping and lessons in town are on the day's schedule. I do dawdle a bit, which doesn't help any, and get to the house about half an hour later than is my habit.

Knowing that I only have a few hours for what needs to be done, I ignore the dried laundry on the lines, knowing full well that no new batch is waiting to be hung because the washing machine is on the fritz and needs to be repaired by yours truly ASAP.
Instead, I head straight into the house for a quick breakfast. The pickings are minimal, but at least there's fresh brown bread that'll do well with the last bit of cheese I manage to scrounge up from the almost empty fridge.

No coffee today: What with my stomach having been iffy these past two weeks or so, I decide to go without for a bit, and see how it goes. I know that that one cup is not to blame, but figuring that every tiny little thing adds up, I don't see how I cannot take this tiny little precaution.

There are several messages to answer and to read -along with forums and the likes that draw my curiosity every day- and though I hurry I don't get more than half an hour of studying in before we need to get ready to depart for our trip to town. Our latest insurance draft has shown a glitch with the number of our license plate on the form, so a trip to the insurance agency is bound to take some valuable time.

The car is packed to full capacity, what with mom behind the wheel, big brother in the passenger seat and grandpa, little brother and I in the back. The strong 4x4 actually has some difficulty mounting our steep drive sweep while the truck bed is fully loaded with stuff that needs to be deposited at the local land fill.

It is no easy task to do this in neat clothes, but we manage and get to the insurance agency just fifteen minutes before closing time. For a while it seems as if they won't be able to correct the error, what with the password to our particular file not working, but in the end, just after closing time we have the certificate we need and are on our way once again.
I have no idea how long we've been driving with the faulty insurance, I'm just relieved that no claims needed to be filed during the time that has passed. It might have caused some trouble, what with insurance companies being only too happy not to pay the claims of their clients if there is even the remote possibility of denying the service for which one has paid dearly.

Admittedly, it is a good insurance agency. I remember clearly when many years back a particular event could have cost us a fortune, if for no other reason than that our agent had forgotten to file a form for us, just days before THE ACCIDENT happened.

I remember being in the house, back then. It was a quiet afternoon and we were still in the midst of building our original kitchen.
It must have been around '97 or '98, I think. Some TV show was on and we were taking a much deserved break from building, when suddenly a visiting friend of ours came running in, looking somewhat frazzled and pale, exclaiming that big brother had sawed off his hand while working with the table saw. She was babbling something about blood all over, and bone being exposed, setting the panic mood in full swing.

Shocked at this bit of news, I jumped to my feet (bare feet, of course), glancing around wildly, and grabbed the first piece of cloth I encountered, just in case some artery was spouting.
Taking little heed of rocks, dirt and gravel, I hurried up to where the car was parked... we still had the yellow Renault Twingo back then... zooming in on big brother who was leaning heavily against the side of the car while his mouth leaked blood all over his chin.
Somehow he had remembered that when severing some appendage of the body, the safest place to keep it was in his mouth. I could hardly imagine being able to do the same if I'd been in his place, but still I marveled at his clear thinking- even then.

So there he stood, his left hand, thankfully still attached, while, pale-faced, he managed to mutter something about having sawed off his fingers. Since I couldn't recall at that particular moment whether or not one can bleed to death from severed fingers, I decided to play it safe and wrapped the cloth I carried with me tightly around his arm, as we bustled into the car and tore off towards the nearest emergency station.

We make it to the village in record time; however, when we drive down Main Street, our driver (a friend who has always been known to be a disaster in emergency situations) manages to get stuck behind a procession of mules and carts- which are a tourist attraction around here.
While mom and I growled at him to honk his horn repeatedly -rather than just once- and just push past the tired looking donkeys, it wasn't until the Spaniard leading the procession saw big brother slouching in the front seat with blood running down his chin and onto his white tank top that we finally managed to get through and head for the medical facility.

Several expletives were exchanged when we reached the tiny niche in which it was located. Cerrado -closed- the small board on the door proclaimed, tiny little digits below it showing an emergency phone number for which we had to find a phone booth first.

Thinking back of it now, I wonder how we ever got around without mobile phones, but since back then they were still only luxuries that one didn't even think about when funds were always tight, it was only to be expected.

Luckily the attending doctor was just around the corner for lunch, and came hurrying towards us ten minutes later, unlocking the door and leading us to the examination room in the back.
While big brother wearily sat down on the table, and was urged to remove his hand from his mouth, mom and I watched worriedly as the man started his examination.

The thumb was tattered; big chunks of skin and bone missing and the tip dangling from little more than half an inch of skin when it was finally revealed. I winced at the sight, quietly keeping my hand on big brother's shoulder as the doctor frowned and fussed, stating that the damage was severe. Disinfectants flowed liberally, with big brother going through it stoically, much to my amazement.
Next came his index finger, of which the top of the middle joint had been cut open, revealing bone within the jagged gap, while the upper half limply fell down- immediately after the doc released it. The tendon had been severed, leaving it eerily lifeless.

Big brother asked to lie back for a minute by then, making some sort of dry joke about feeling "just a tad faint" and admittedly I would have liked to do the same, since by then the adrenaline rush had abated somewhat, leaving me feeling faint myself.
While the doc wrapped up both fingers and a relatively small cut on big brother's middle finger -it, too, had been nicked- he informed us that an operation would be necessary. He proceeded to give us directions to the major hospital, about thirty miles from where we lived, and wished us good luck, after stating that it was unlikely that the damage could be fully repaired.

It hit us while we were driving down the mountain: The insurance! Would it cover this?
So... what with big brother now bandaged up and reasonably okay for the time being, we headed straight for the insurance company.
Explaining what had happened, and how the agent had made an error, we were assured that the hospital costs would be covered and headed towards the large facility.

A surgery was pretty much a fact after just half an hour after arrival, and big brother was carted off towards the operating room less than three hours after the incident.
What with our driver friend returning home to inform the rest of the family of the events, and to get shoes and decent (non-working) clothes for me and mom, we sat outside the hospital for several hours, until night fell. The waiting area was boring, as they all tend to be, but comfortable enough for the many hours that passed.

It wasn't until two in the morning when big brother was treated and surgically done. The doctors had worked diligently on both fingers, managing, somehow, to repair the damage to the index, and reconstruct the majority of his thumb, before the entire appendage was wrapped up and he was settled into a room.

The entire thing earned big brother three days in the hospital, during which he was pumped full of antibiotics and blood thinners, while the staff checked his repaired fingers two times a day to make sure that the skin wouldn't die.

Relief settled in by that time, and while I kept big brother company -he dozed off and on for the duration of his stay- life slowly got back on track. He'd survived what could have been far more serious than it already was, and in the end he still had all five fingers on his left hand: A definite plus, in our eyes.

Though the doctors warned him that the joint of his thumb was literally ruined beyond repair, and that it was practically impossible that it would ever function fully again -if at all- two trips back to the hospital for rehabilitation gave big brother the right idea. By just moving the joint time and again until a new one formed, flexibility finally returned.

By now, many years after the unfortunate encounter with a spinning saw blade, about 95 percent of the dexterity in the damaged digits returned, leaving only faint scars to remind big brother and us of that rather eventful day.
The insurance company paid for the operation and the treatments that followed, and all was well in the end.

It's strange how such long memories slip through my mind in just seconds when something seemingly innocuous reminds me of it- like it does today. It are memories such as this one that make thinking back of life in general interesting, however. They can be downright horrible when they occur, but when looking back it's just like thinking about a book I read at some time in the past. Funny how that works.

But anyways, enough maudling, hah. Back to the day.

After our trip to the insurance agent, big brother and I are dropped off at school for another two hours of "fun" behind the test computers. It goes well enough, though I feel unsettled for some peculiar reason.
6 thirty question tests with an average of 0-3 mistakes each, will allow me to pass when the time comes, so at least it isn't a complete waste of time to break up a day and head for school.

The lessons done, and mom's, grandpa's and little brother's return, announces the final part of the day's outing. Grocery shopping! A trip to the large international market passes quickly but with some effort on our part, for sure. Two full shopping carts need to be filled, unloaded, loaded again and then packaged for transportation in the truck bed.
Though more stores had been in the plans for today's trip, we decide to postpone other matters to another day and head on home after filling up the car's depleted tank with diesel.

Prices have gone down, I'm relieved to see. The Euro dial stays below the liter dial for the first time in months, and by the time the tank filled, and the fuel paid for, we're on our way home to start the next part of the shopping day ritual: Unpacking! We do have the routine down pat- each of us playing an agile game of "dodge-the-dogs" as bag after bag is carried inside and a joint effort is made to put everything in its place.

My personal pack is ecstatic with my return, making me squeal and growl dire threats every time they jump up against me, almost making me drop the heavy bags I'm carrying. I place safely on the kitchen counter a mere second before Knight II comes pounding straight at me. I just barely manage to keep my balance, as I desperately grab for the dangling chain around his neck and yank him down. I swear that, if I don't teach him the proper protocol of "No-jumping-against-me", he'll crack some of my ribs or throw me face down on the floor some day. Hah.

Mosha is bouncing up and down beside me, her teeth nipping at my clothes and wrist- which, for some reason, she likes to grab whenever I've been away from her for as little as five minutes.
Chaos, throws his considerable weight against me when he balances precariously on his hindquarters, while Lhabana, Gadah and the others circle around like mad. I can almost hear them screech delightedly "Your home! Your home."

Looking at them one would think I'd been away for a full month, rather than just a few hours, but it's okay. I always feel honored that they care so much for my company, so I take the discomfort these particular greetings give, in stride.

At long last things quiet down, and feeling exhausted I manage little more than prepare baked veggies and cheese to put on roasted pita bread with iceberg slaw and tomatoes for myself, big brother and mom, instead of a real dinner.
It fills the gaps well enough, and by the time my stomach is full I do little more than flop down in a chair and wearily wait for the evening to come to an end.

Grocery days; they're exhausting!