Cold!!!

I got to bed much too late last night, resulting in a morning that was far too early from my point of view. The monster Boxer makes a nuisance of herself again, and I feel pretty darn wretched as I drag myself out of bed and shiver at the feel of yet another frighteningly chilly day. According to grandpa the temperature almost reached zero in the early morning, which explains why I was cold through the majority of the night. I definitely need to find another blanket tonight.

Though the sun is shining bravely, it really can’t compete with the chilling wind blowing full force down the mountain, and with puffy eyes I stumble down to the house, knowing full well that the day’s going to be a bad one, if all the little aches and strains are an indication. I definitely overdid things yesterday, and it shows with every dragging step I take.

My dogs aren’t any happier than I am when I reach the house, hurrying inside, swearing when I find that I’m the first to arrive, with no gas heaters blasting full force to welcome me. Still, as soon as I put the radio on and snap Trin Trin to the leash that is to keep her from attacking the other dogs in the next few hours, I head for the kitchen.

Considering the fact that today the old stove is going out, I decide to start dinner early. A good Italian stew, with lots of potatoes and seven kinds of veggies should be sturdy enough, and by the time the sibs come down, the stew is bubbling and steaming full force, filling the house with the scent of brewing herbs. When the sibs are done with a quick breakfast the stew is done and can be put aside for dinner.

Now that everyone has done their business at the new counter I apply another generous amount of silicone glue to the sides of the sink, going through lots of wet wipes to remove the excesses until at last I’m pretty sure that it’s going to hold well enough for a while at least and keep the water from getting to the multiplex wood.
Getting to work takes quite a while, and we’re all irritable for some reason as slowly, but steadily we get back into the rhythm, when I put in the last supportive beam underneath the sink, this time without actually having to crawl underneath.

With the sisters painting edges and some more spice drawers, big brother and I saw out the shape of the huge stove/oven. Before we can actually fit it, however, another section of the old counter needs to be demolished which takes us several more hours.
The old oven–that hasn’t worked for over two years–needs to be cut out and carried to the car, as does the old stove that we actually need to saw from it’s place before we can get to the large ventilator that hangs overhead.

This takes even longer, since several screws have gone bad, and we end up just breaking the entire thing off when big brother bumps his head on the corner for the fifth time sine we started the kitchen project. We jump back when the flexible tube comes down in its pursuit, scattering a load of dirt that has somehow gotten stuck in the ceiling.

While the old kitchen appliances are carted out, little brother and I patch the hole in the ceiling, ending up pretty content when see the new board fit perfectly in the cut out section that was a serious eyesore.

Finally the L-shaped section is removed and the floor cleaned, allowing big brother and me to place the new stove/oven into its allotted place in the new counter. It looks beautiful, and for a moment we’re all pretty pleased with the view of the new kitchen, coming even closer to completion.

While the younger sibs and I start cleaning up, big brother cuts four large ventilation holes into the center of the counter where later the raised section will be placed with a grillwork that still needs to be acquired.
The new stove is tested then. All five burners work, and the oven goes on–after we finally figure out how to light it. Hah. Success is a great feeling!

No klutzy stuff from me today, which is a relief since I feel unbalanced enough to start screeching about a hangnail most of the day. Today the particular ailment seems to have jumped over to little brother who at one point starts leaking blood all over the floor, due to a little mishap with the hand saw. Nothing too serious, though.

By eight thirty in the evening, we’ve got everything cleaned, the drawers in place (they look great, even without the decorative cover in front of them) the tools put aside, and we all have dinner–seated this time. Apparently it’s a hit ‘cause I thought I’d made enough for tomorrow. Within less than half an hour the last portion is scraped out and the dogs are having a fest with licking out the dish.

I’m feeling far too edgy to just sit back and watch TV, so with the large suitcases of screws in front of me, I start sorting through the mess this project is creating in our supplies and spent two hours with the mind numbing chore of sorting about a thousand of the darn little things, and putting them back where they belong. Keeping the hands busy while watching TV is always an excellent way to keep from wallowing, I’ve found.

As the evening progresses the temperature drops even more, not allowing the two heaters to do much good. For a change I’m not the only one complaining about the cold, either. Even little sister, who usually enjoys colder temperatures, is claiming to have frozen feet as I finish up with the night’s sorting chore and turn on the computer for some distraction.

There are a few messages, but I go through them half-heartedly when I find myself incapable of focusing. The writing session we’d intended today isn’t going to go through, either what with my mind continuing to feel oddly fuzzy.

At long last the night comes to an end, and I feel pretty darn uncomfortable with the cold while being flushed at the same time. I head up to my room, almost toppling over right outside the courtyard when I step wrong and balance precariously when the heavy on my hip tries to help gravity along on the uneven ground. By stepping forward quickly I manage to use momentum to gain my balance and give a relieved sigh as I continue on up.

Already I suspect that my cabin will have temperatures matching the outside and give an involuntary shiver when I open the front door and let the dogs storm inside, eagerly.
When I get inside I find the thermometer down to 5 degrees, Yikes!

The first thing to do is head for the heater and stand shuffling in front of it while it heats up. With my hand on the CD player I try to get the darn thing started for almost fifteen minutes but I fail once again. In the end I give up on the darn thing and switch on the computer for some background noise before I feed the dogs.

I have prudently taken another quilt up to my cabin today, and am actually looking forward to an early night buried under five layers of blankets and a multitude of dog bodies eager to crowd close.

New kitchen is in...almost.

Oh my, it was such a busy day that I hardly know where to start...well the beginning would be the best I suppose, so here it is.

I slowly wake to the sound of the alarm going off, groaning my distaste of the night officially being over and the prospect of today’s workout that looms ahead like a genuine torture session. Every part of me is demanding a skip-workout day, and while I murmur reassurances to myself that skipping the exercise won’t be all that bad, I make a mental note not to think of it again until I reach the house.

It is never smart to let my brain think on matters such as exercise too long, if it does, it will come up with all the reasons why it really isn’t necessary today, so the best way for me to deal with this dilemma is not to allow myself to think of such matters until the time is actually there.

It’s cold again–really too early for these temperatures, it’s February weather at least–so I bundle up in many layers and head down to let the dogs into the courtyard. I’m most pleased to find big brother up already, since he’s lit the heaters, allowing me to breathe easy when I enter the warm living area.

Rather than allow myself to think about it, I change into my workout outfit immediately, setting myself to the exercises before my mind is able to come up with all the reasons why I don’t feel like it, and start pounding.

30 minutes into the session, big brother decides to start taking down the gutted kitchen counter, in preparation of today’s plans of starting on the kitchen remodeling for real.
It’s not an all bad session of exercise for me by the time my regular 50 minutes comes to an end and after asking big brother to wait another ten minutes before he turns the water off, I soak up the heat from a scorching shower.

While I hang and fold the day’s laundry batch, he resumes the demolition, in the end just yanking the counter of the wall, and nodding his approval of the removal that went much faster than anticipated.
He’s still cleaning up the debris by the time I finish, and munch on some bread for breakfast and pour a big mug of coffee before deciding to be frugal by removing screws and metal corners from the old for re-use.

Sipping the welcoming boosting drink, I then get a hammer and chisel and start hacking away at the tiles that used to surround this particular counter, so that we can start putting in the new construction just as soon as the area is cleared.

By the times the sibs come down to the main house, I’m halfway through the stretch of tiles, with a bruised knuckle–Gada knocked into me just when the hammer swung down– two bleeding fingers and an electrical burn from an exposed ancient wire to show for it, and am pleased with the progress. Even when the dogs accidentally turn on the dangling faucet that is supposed to keep water from pouring onto the floor (the water main is turned on again by this time), my mood isn’t affected for a change.

Things are going well, and this always boosts my spirit. Besides, it’s just one of those little accidents that will happen when at least twenty dogs are crowding around you while you’re trying to get some work done, hah.

After a quick mopping, and the removal of tile debris, big brother and I stand side by side, taking in the blank wall that hasn’t been thus since we first built the original kitchen eleven years ago. It looks strange to see the kitchen like this that’s a fact.
Old layers of paint are visibly by the edges, bearing proof of at least a decade of re-paints, dry tile glue makes the surface uneven, and electrical wires dangle from various places as we nod at each other and start assembling the foundation of the new counter.

It takes little time, really, what with all the preparations already made during the course of the past few months, and by then the sibs have had their breakfast and are willing to offer a helping hand with the more heavy lifting of the drawer casings.
While big brother sets himself to the task of drilling holes into the floor for a proper attachment, little brother and I move back and forth, getting the drawers and casings into the house and piling them together.

Next come the settings, small legs that need to attached to the backs of the casings and after we do this, little brother and I start arranging the first two casings on either side of big brother, who’s up to his elbows in arranging the plumbing.
It takes some time and effort to get it all set appropriately upon the base, but by the time dusk settles, we are pleased to see something resembling a kitchen counter.

Measuring, rearranging and fastening the cases takes quite some time, frequent checks making all the pieces we assembled in the past slowly fit together.
With little sister handling the B&D sanding machine, to remove any uneven surfaces, she and my other sister multitask by sanding several tiny spice drawers as well, so older sister can paint them in the deep lazuli blue that we picked as one of the base colors for the kitchen.

Music plays noisily on the radio, keeping us and the dogs from getting distracted by outside sounds that might have send the pack howling.
One side of the huge isle we intend to build is done, when it’s time for dinner and little sister cleans herself up to fire up the old stove, still fixed within the gutted part of the kitchen to allow for meals while we’re working on the new.

What with the kitchen being in complete disarray we decide to go for simple and filling with fries aplenty for each and everyone, along with some chicken nuggets for the omnivores among us.
No one bothers to sit down during the meal, every family member standing where we are–plates in hand–wolfing the food down hungrily before getting back to work.

By the time the second part of the counter is up and solid, I start to regret this morning’s workout in full. Muscles ache and feet are literally whining as we saw, fit and readjust until the first top layer can be put down on top of the cases.

Several trips into the courtyard storage follow, while little brother, younger sister and I carry in the old boards that I’d saved up on in the years past, for just this occasion.
The first layer is a jumble of puzzle pieces forming a solid outline of where the counter is going to be.

I’ve just finished sawing another board to the right size when the dizzy spell hits me. The room spins like mad, just when I get up from having twisted my way into one of the casings, and I make a mad grab for the now solid counter and flop my butt down on the floor, lest I fall flat on my face…or in this case, right on top of Kolossus (a female shepherd) who’s snoozing at my feet.

With the sibs leaning over the casing from where they’re helping in the center of the isle, looking at me worriedly, I chuckle half-heartedly and try to catch my breath when I realize the spinning stops the instant I sit down.
Chaos, of course, sees my ground-level position as an excellent opportunity to come for a visit and twines his way over my stretched-out legs for a proper lick right in the center of my face.

I drag my sleeve over area, and push him aside after a pat before I scramble carefully to my feet. Giving the frowning sibs a lopsided grin, I shrug, saying something like, “Okay, that was weird,” while the youngest pushes a soda in my hand and tells me to eat an apple before I pass out. Guess the fries weren’t enough sustenance after all. Hah.

I am banned from the circle saw for a while, and I don’t particularly mind as I continue fastening the puzzle pieces to the tops of the casings.
By that time we finally finish the whole enough for big brother and little sister to head on out to the carport where the huge slates of “rustico-style” cover counters await.

They set the two counters against the stairs, right beside the basic construction, and then it starts to dawn on us that the measurements we got when we bought the counters were slightly off mark. We were led to believe that they were 90 cm in width, and yet by the time we lay them over the base, it becomes painfully clear that we’re missing a good 20 cm.

Banging my head against a wall for a bit is tempting, before we start to brainstorm about our options. It doesn’t take us long to conclude that we won’t need to disassemble our hard work after all–much to our relief–and can easily adjust the design enough to correct the slight error.

Since it had been the plan in the first place that in the center of the 180 cm wide top an elevated area was to be built, we decide to just broaden it a little and thus remove the lapse.
With a sigh of unified relief we get back to work, younger sister getting out the paint to slab blue onto the puzzle edge for the appearance of a whole.

We all freeze when suddenly the light flickers, making me scowl by the time it goes on again, and then instantly switches off entirely–leaving us all in a pitch black.
Groans of disbelief echo through the house: What are the chances of the electricity going off on a windless and rainless night such as this, just while we need to use power tools to get out job done? Very slim, actually.
We joke about it, lighting oil lamps and candles as we discuss the use of the solar panel batteries to finish up at least the basics before giving up for the day.

Though the problem appears to be with the power company–little sister heads to the window to see if the neighbors still have electricity–we suggest to big brother that he goes to check the fuses, just in case we had another short, like the last time.

Little sister, now at the window, calls out that she doesn’t see a light below either, just when big brother reaches the pantry door–and the lights go back on. There’s some mild cheering, what with everyone getting tired since the hour of ten has passed.
Still, we resume work with considerable vigor, determined to get everything done quick, in case the power goes off again.

Little brother crawls into the narrow passage underneath, while the sisters and I start laying out the top the way it is going to stay, calling out instructions as to where and how he has to drill and screw into the wooden boards for proper fastening.
The water main is shut down then, so big brother can connect the new tubes in preparation of the new faucet.

That done, little brother comes crawling out, and big brother gets the figure saw to open up a square for the small sink–later the actual dish-wash sink will be added, but for now only the small sink will have to do–while the sibs and I continue to fasten the main counter in all the appropriate places.

By then the sink can be fitted and I drill holes into the sides of the metal, so it will stay in place with little sister holding it still. I don’t know what is up today, but apparently I’m klutzy again when suddenly the power drill snaps, skids off the metal and heads straight for my leg.

I am quite lucky when my jeans twist around the sharp point right before the drill stops spinning, rather than allowing the broken piece of metal to jab through. I guess losing a rough 50 pounds since I bought the pants three years ago does have its advantages, since if the fabric had been any tighter I might have done some damage.

A quick search for a new metal drill ensues before the holes are finished and little brother crawls under the counter once more in an attempt to fasten the sink underneath. It’s supposed to hang suspended between the wood edges of the counter. After several tries, and his grouching remark about not being skilled enough with such tasks, I tell him that the only way to get skilled is to actually do it before I wave him to get out of there, so I can examine our options.

In the end I get down on the floor, shuffling my way into the narrow space on my back, while my dogs come running in hopes of some attention. While the sisters try to keep them at bay, I lever myself up partway–frequent workouts are definitely a plus there, since my abdominal muscles don’t even twinge at the raise, twist I need to apply, hah–and with some effort finally manage to get the screws in place.

Above my head, I hear Knight II pounding past several times, the sibs joking that he can’t find me…until he does and pushes his snout right into my face while I lay there unable to protect myself. Big lug, I’m out of sight five minutes and he thinks I’m gone for good.

I give him an absent rub on his huge head; give the last screw a final twist and laboriously lever myself out from under the counter to examine the end result.
It won’t keep much weight yet, but it’ll stay in place at least, I’m pleased to see.
Little brother hands me a 1 by 2, which I need to saw into the proper shape for the support, while big brother fusses over the faucet that will need to be set and attached if we want to have water during the night.

He needs a piece of Oak wood as a pedestal for the faucet, so slapping the 1 by 2 into his hand with a wave at where it’s supposed to be fastened, little brother and I carry the heavy piece of Oak wood–one of the final pieces of a huge solid oak table that we built some odd seventeen years ago–to the kitchen table and saw off the required strip necessary as a pedestal for the new tap.

I like the smell of real wood for a change, even if it soon smells a little scorched under the ministrations of the electric saw, and hand the piece to little sister who then proceeds to sand it down for use.

While big brother is fussing with the faucet, we get on with busywork, such as cleaning a bit off the mess, and then getting out the silicone glue for proper, water-proof, attachment.
Working on just the faucet with four people, really isn’t all that expedient, but by then each and every one of us is feeling the strain of ten hours of intense work.
Little sister is occasionally complaining about her hurting feet, perfectly, and colorfully putting my own feelings into words; while little brother and other sister are showing signs of wear as well.

At last big brother is ready to start attaching wood and faucet to the counter, and after spraying a liberal amount of the silicone gooey between steel and wood, younger sister and I lean over the broad counter to keep it in place. Underneath, in the narrow passage between drawer cases, big brother is now stretched out, using all the force he can muster to drive home the four thick screws that are to keep the faucet and its pedestal in place.

After four tries we all step back and blink when we realize that we’re done…almost at least, and hold out breaths in anticipation when the water main is turned back on to see if there are any leaks showing.

Disappointment and exhaustion mingle together well, when right there at the connecting pieces of the variety of tubes shows steady leakages, making us hurry to shut the water down again.

I assure the younger sibs that this is always the case with new plumbing being installed, as we wait impatiently for big brother to crawl back inside to reattach the connections until he finally thinks the leakage will be over.
It is, to our infinite relief, when after applying some more silicone all around the sink, cleanup can start.

One thirty in the morning has arrived when I finally make my way to my cabin, my feet dragging, and every single muscle in my body complaining about twelve hours straight of intense activity by the time I enter a decidedly cold building and hurry to switch on the heater.

6 degrees Celsius, a record for us this time of year, and with hardly any energy left, I feed my dogs, curse at the non-responsive CD player, and drop down on my bed with ITunes on, instead.

A long day, but the new counter is there, and it is beautiful. It will need quite a bit of work yet, but already the end result is a clear image in my mind.

A quiet writing day.

I wake several times to a sunny morning. Trin Trin is being a monster again today, and keeps waking me up every hour, at least, just three hours after I turned in for the night. So frustrating, but she gets that way sometimes. Nothing, except for taking her into a full blown headlock will keep her quiet…which is really nice and warm for me but also sleep inductive when she start snoring heat into my face. So, half an hour later the headlock loosens, and off she’ll go again, tugging at my blankets and riling the other dogs up until I’m forced to repeat the entire procedure over and over again.

Out of sheer frustration I end up locking her up in my small backyard where she proceeds to attack the door for the last hour of my sleep. Insane! I’ve said it before and I’ll probably say it many times in the future. But she is totally nuts…and loving it.

There were dreams, mostly fragment of memories and premonitions and such that’ll undoubtedly drive ME insane in the near future with the familiar feeling of Déjà vu.
Hate it when that happens, and it does so often. I’ll walk into a store I’ve never been before, thinking, “Heck, I know this place”. Or I’ll speak to someone who I’d swear to have met before, but haven’t. It’s enough to drive a body bonkers that’s a fact.

My lips are chafed again. The chill of the past three days is not at all productive for my lips that look swollen and somewhat haggard to say the least…and they hurt like heck. It’s a really a terrible shame that I can’t use Chap Stick for them. Whenever I do, it’ll only make things worse by causing a rash. Ah well, they’ll just have to adjust in a natural fashion, I suppose. At some point they always do.

By the time I’ve stretched the kinks from my back, get dressed and head on to the house I’m still feeling way too fuzzy, making me go through the trip down, gathering the dry laundry, folding it, and hanging the new load in auto-mode. Most of the last days’ laundry has dried even with the cold, allowing for enough space for the new at least before I head into the house to warm myself near the heater.

Big brother arrives by that time, my dogs barking noisily to greet the small part of his large pack that always comes down with him. Their arrival forces me to snatch Knight II’s collar lest he starts pestering poor Fortuyn, who somehow always rubs him wrong.
Clue is eagerly bouncing down the stairs as well, not daring to venture too close to me, what with my noisy pack gathered around me like a wall, but wags his short tail in greeting before he dashes out into the courtyard.

Once we’re both fed (us humans that is) and with the coffee brewing, big brother sets to checking the plumbing to see if we have all we need for when we start putting in the new kitchen tomorrow, while I head back to the dangling boards to apply the last layer of paint.
It takes ridiculously little time, and what with needing a few more connection for the plumbing when the shops open tomorrow, I’m disappointed to realize that there is little we can do on the remodeling project on this Sunday.

Resigned to another delay, we set up our computers and get down to business.
I “waste” a little time on messages and chats, before I finally open the vampire files and page-down until I reach the point where I stopped last night.
What with the story still fresh in my mind I get to writing immediately; my mind drifting out of reality and into the fictional world of the paranormal the way I’ve been doing for two weeks now.

The scenes flow out on their own, images forming and reshaping while I write down that which I see in my head. Dialogues begin to make sense now, the laid-back hero and the obsessive-compulsive heroine. They make a delightful pair, I find, smiling at the things they say as if the words don’t actually come from my head. They come from the two people I see jabbing at each other, creating a delightful chemistry that should get to be very interesting while I’m working towards the culmination of the short story.

So different from the last: And, yet, just as entertaining. I wonder sometimes about these characters of mine. In the past I would sometimes find myself worrying about them, and the things I would make them go through for the duration of a tale. That feeling is still there, admittedly, making me weep when I write down something horrible in their pasts–or present–and laugh when something marvelous happens.
It’s almost more real that “real life” sometimes.

It is amazing how attached I become to these figments of my imagination, really, but in all honesty I wouldn’t have it any other way. Good or bad, they’ll be a part of me ‘till the end of days, and that is something that makes writing stories so wonderful. Friend and foes they might be, but real, they most certainly are…in my head at least. I’ll talk with them, berate them, and curse them, depending on what is happening and this has been cause to plenty of laughter from my family as they witness this time and again.

I’ll be sure to regret it when this short story comes to an end, and already I am dreading that day, which is drawing nearer every time I write down another page. Though, the post-writing blues were short-lived with the last write, I doubt if I’ll be so lucky the next time…if I don’t manage to come up with a new story to distract me as soon as “the end” is reached, that is.

Ah well, better not to linger on this too long and get on with today’s events instead.
On the overall it turns out to be a quiet day. I write three pages during the morning session, feeling pretty pleased about the progress when I shut the computer down. I decide to make dinner of last night’s leftover spaghetti, and bake it with cheese onions and herbs.
It goes down well with everyone–much to my chagrin, since there is too little for a proper portion–and for a while I’m content to lounge in front of the TV to watch a rather badly directed and acted Hallmark movie before we decide to put on the latest “Prison Break” episodes. They were recorded over the last two weeks.

However long the actual breaking out of prisons it is taking, and the multitude of dragged out scenes that continue to pile up, somehow the cast and writers manage to keep it all interesting enough to keep me watching, which is a marvelous feat to say the least.

By the time the episodes are over and done with, the night has thankfully progressed considerably, allowing big brother and me to settle behind our computers again for some more writing.
Only one more page is added, during the hour that passes, announcing the end of the evening and my trip out into the chilly night and up to my cabin.

My head feels funny today. Somehow I’ve gotten a lump on the back of my skull, which has been swelling like mad during the day. I’ve no idea what happened, since I don’t remember knocking my head or anything. It hurts like the dickens, too, which in turn annoys the heck out of me, of course.
Maybe one of the dogs slammed his paw in the back of my head while I slept, or something…I do sleep like a dead person sometimes. Hah.
Thinking back on it, it might just be that. There was that incident with Knight II a few days ago, nonetheless.

It’s freaky cold in my cabin again, and my dogs crowd around the bed for the best spots after eating. The short-legged ones standing on their hind legs, waiting for me to lift them up, while looking at me with soulful eyes. It is no easy feat with Chaos, who’s a hefty Basset of a good eighty pounds, and really can’t do without his snoozing time on the bed, so he is one of the first to get boosted up so he can find a comfortable spot on top of the pillows.

Right now there are seven dogs lying all around me, all of them curled up, except Knight II who stretches out alongside me, keeping my nicely toasty, while using his full weight to press himself against me…and thus proceeds to push me further and further to the side of the bed.

I’d better sign off before the computer tumbles off the bed.

Remodeling has commenced for real!

No particular dream to report colorfully today, much to my regret.
I wake to the alarm, wanting nothing more than to roll back under my blankets, where it’s warm at least, when I know I can’t since I promised big brother to come to the house early so we can get all the plans for today done.

Mumbling my displeasure, and after the alarm has screeched for a god-awful five minutes, I get up to let the rambunctious dogs out and about.
Yes, the sun shining the way it’s supposed to, but the temperature feels close to freezing even though I know it isn’t. Quickly I get the morning rituals over and done with, heading down to the house for my workout with the poor boxing bag.

It goes well enough, nothing of the bumbling stiffness I experienced last week, and all the motions going fluently and fast as I go through the routine top speed so I can get on with the day. I warm up fast, finding myself chilling rapidly again by the time today’s session comes to an end. Somehow today’s hour just flew past, and I hurry on towards the shower to let scalding hot water pour over abused muscles until I’m pretty sure that I won’t be sore for the rest of the day.

That done, and once again dressed in today’s layers consistent of Jeans, long sleeved T, turtleneck woolen sweater and a calf-length vest–that is simply the best buy I’ve made in years–I head on out into the courtyard to get yesterday’s laundry down.
Well, technically only half of it, what with the temperatures not allowing for quick drying, but still. By the time I get the wet laundry out and hung, with only one item of clothing needing to be washed again due to Knight II’s exuberance, my hands are freezing and I wrap them around a hot mug of coffee as I settle behind the computer for a quick check of today’s messages.

Luckily weekends are always slow, so soon I’m once again ensconced into the world of vampires and such, writing down a page, while big brother is doing the same across from me.
At last he actually wants to attempt some real writing, rather than just be inspirational and edit for me. I’m pretty thrilled by the prospect of him writing, too, especially once he gets a hang of it. It’ll double our productivity at the very least, and maybe even allow him to someday write a book all on his own…as he’s been planning to for years.

It is a pleasure to watch his enthusiasm. Over the years I’ve noticed that even though I love writing, it has become a job rather than just pleasure the way he now views it. We get to talking about it, actually, pondering when that change occurred, but in all honesty I couldn’t–and still can’t–pinpoint the exact time when writing changed from a hobby into work.

It’s a pity, really, especially when observing big brother’s pleasure at forming a good paragraph for the first time. I was like that at one time, bouncing around in my chair as I saw a story form on the screen in front of me. Now, one page just flows into the next giving pleasure for sure, but not like that. Not the sitting on the edge of my seat just by describing simple day-to-day actions.

He’s lucky in this regard, learning to write a story at this point in his life.
Where I had to learn everything on my own from the ground up, he can ask me for input and improvements whenever he feels the need for it. After a fashion I’m now a teacher, hah. It’s fun, however, and it inspires me to write too, so we both get something out of it.

I only do one page at this time, adding to last night’s scene and making it just so that it’ll flow right into the scene big brother’s creating for this particular story.
Compared to the first story, which was dark, intensely deep and sweet, this one’s grittier, laid-back and most certainly more sexually oriented.
With the first story, the “getting together” part was making love, while now it is definitely having sex. Diversity, it makes for a fun write…and read.

It is our plan to start on taking down the old kitchen today, or at least strip the part where the new one will be build up from the ground, and so we put our computers away and get to it.

With the two sisters cleaning out cupboards and such, big brother starts taking out shelves, doors and walls. At the same time, in the other part of the kitchen, little brother makes a quick dinner of spaghetti and fresh tomato vegetable sauce for when we’re done, filling the house with delightful scents of Italian cooking.

The radio is playing pop-music as I hang up the boards that still need to be primed and painted, creating a maze of wires that will allow me to paint all sided of the boards that will in the end form the foundation of the kitchen isle. The house looks like a construction site at the moment. Boards hanging from the ceiling for drying, tools piled together on the kitchen table, and supplies scattered on once empty surfaces. It almost feels like camping.

High on paint fumes, and singing and bouncing along with any familiar song that is played, I split my attention between painting and keeping track of what is happening in the kitchen, watching with horrified fascination as slowly the counters that we built ten years ago get torn down and set away for disposal at a later time.

Though it is high time for a new kitchen, it saddens me to see the old one go. It had taken so much work to build in the first place, and for years it was a wonderful kitchen to cook in. But the new kitchen is going to be great as well, so my spirits are high enough as I climb on and off a kitchen chair time and again to roll paint onto the MDF boards until the silvery primer covers all the wood.

What with the primer drying fast, I know that tonight another painting session will follow, making me decide against cleaning paint off my hands and arms as we finish the preparations in the kitchen we can for today, and start on our dinner.

It is good, and as Italian tends to do, it settles well on an empty stomach while we watch tonight’s rerun episode of “The Closer”. Fun, as always: Kyra Sedgewick certainly hits the right note with her role as Chief Brenda Johnson. I do believe that it is her best character ever.

But anyways, by the time “Cold Case” starts, my eyes begin to droop, and rather than drifting of to dreamland once more, I get up to get the blue paint and start rolling it on top of the now dry primer.

With grandpa sanding the first of tiny spice drawers that will go from the old kitchen into the new, and big brother sawing wooden 1 by 2s for the kitchen foundation, we debate the wisdom of which construction will hold best for long-term use by a large family of six and a pack of ninety dogs trying to steal treats by jumping up against it.
Overkill will definitely be applied aplenty, rather than risk a breakdown.

Eleven O’clock is nearing by the time we decide to call it a night–building wise–and clean up the mess we make before I head for the sink and wash off the paint splatters with turpentine and soap. Pretty much drained, physically, I get myself a glass of water and settle behind the computer for some more writing on the latest project.
With big brother sitting opposite of me, I manage two more pages for today, so with his work added to the total, the second vampire flick is up to a wonderful ten pages. We’ll get there.

By the time I head on up to my room it is raining again, and the temperature is low enough to make me hurry into my bedroom, switch on the heater and stand groaning in front of it for several minutes as I try to get some warmth back into my cold fingers.
It’s only nine degrees Celsius, and neither I, nor the dogs like it at all. I can’t wait to turn in for the night and let the heat of dog bodies and blankets warm me up.