Unexpected memories.

Okay, not in the best of moods today, but what the hey, might as well write this Blog. I read somewhere that the secret to the success of a Blog is consistency, so if I can’t go for interesting today, I might as well go for that. Hah.

I wake before the alarm goes of. The monster boxer and Knight II have been making a nuisance of themselves for the better part of the last remaining hours of my short night, and I’m more than a little miffed when I shove my way through the noisy pack and throw the door open to bright sunshine.

It was a late night…not my own doing for a change, and sleep was elusive. Last night I was just about to drop off when Chaos, my gorgeous (Basset Hound), started crying softly, making his way from the center of the bed, up to my pillow, while I was trying to figure out what was wrong. He felt rather cool to the touch, and as soon as I rubbed his fur, strong shivers started to wrack his body.

I was rather startled, I’ll admit. Chaos is a big dog (short legs, but big nonetheless) and has got more than his share of meat on his bones, and yet, from the feel of him, he was experiencing something that was scarily close to hypothermia. I immediately dragged his body under the blankets, and wrapped my vest, and myself, around him in an attempt to get him warm again.

It took almost an hour, and he was feeling pretty miserable if the constant nudges of his head were anything to go by. I had to keep petting his head, or else he’d start fussing and trying to turn around uncomfortably. Finally, body heat doing the trick, the shivers subsided and we both fell asleep.

Over the years I’ve found that the cold can be quite dangerous for dogs that are used to hot summers. One would think that they’re smart enough to find a warm spot…heck they crowd around the heaters enough to bear testament to this survival instinct…but some still manage to get a bladder infection from lying in cold place, which is far from pleasant, and more than a little dangerous, or so experience taught me.

Chaos’ discomfort this night certainly had me thinking back of when we got him, and the eighteen other puppies that we’d taken into our home at the same time.
There was a breeder–back then–who went bankrupt and he needed to get rid of his pups fast, so we offered to take them…and suffered the consequences.

It started on day two, after the batch of nineteen entered our home. Cute black and blond Labradors, a Dalmatian, two shepherds, two Bassets-one of which was chaos–several cocker Spaniels and a handful of boxers, all of them sweet as could be.
One by one the pups started getting ill. Lack of appetite, white gums, vomiting, diarrhea, the works! The entire family was working ‘round the clock in an attempt to keep the little ones alive…seemingly having no effect whatsoever.

Several visits with our vet of that time, were fruitless, and pups started dying from what the vet presumed to be parvo, and couldn’t do much about, or so she claimed.

Chaos was in a terrible state, and soon he was dehydrated so much that he had to stay at the vet’s to get an intravenous drip and antibiotics. Bad idea! Bassets cannot stand being alone, and since that vet was a one-woman operation, he was rapidly slipping away as he lay there miserably in a tiny little cage.

‘Till this day I still swear that if we hadn’t insisted on taking him home–with the drip–he would have died that very evening. He was literally giving up.
So, carrying him in a small box, the drip held high, I took him home, and hoped for the best.
Two weeks of hell followed.
We lost a total of four pups in those weeks, while I was fighting to keep Chaos alive.
Two beautiful golden labs, and two cocker spaniels. We were all heartbroken, not to mention weary from stress, and what with the other pups occasionally showing the same symptoms as well, it wasn’t until Chaos was finally eating more than yogurt and no longer needed his drip to stay alive that we stumbled across our present vet.

Chaos was slowly recovering, eating cooked chicken breast with a slowly increasing appetite, and grinding his teeth noisily since they’d grown considerably–without wear–during his two weeks of not eating. He was just venturing staggering steps, a few days after we had visited our old vet who claimed that the worst was over now, when I woke up to find a gaping hole in his slender little chest.

Apparently because he had been lying on his side so much during his illness he’d developed a severe bedsore that had made the skin tear open. Horrified about the fact, and then outraged because it was the weekend and our vet didn’t take our emergency call, we headed for the bigger vet hospital in the village.

A rather young apprentice helped us immediately. He was a friendly man, who explained that he would need to cut out the damaged flesh and then put in a drain and stitches before Chaos could come home. I dreaded leaving him behind there, not knowing the vet at all, and was more than a little relieved when the young man informed me that I could come and pick the pup up in just a few hours.

Due to the stress of the weeks past, and the still sick dogs at the house, I actually cried on my way home. I was pleased, however, to find Chaos tentatively wagging his tail when I came to pick him up less than four hours later with the assurance of the vet that there would be no lasting damage. Chaos would need some added medication because he had done a blood test and had found several dangerous bacteria in his blood and feces, including parvo.

Heartened by the fact that the vet seemed to know his business, that same night we headed towards the vet–all pups, even those that weren’t ill yet–tucked into the truck, speeding towards the hospital for a late-night examination.

All of them had at least two dangerous diseases in their blood that would require medication that was–much to our relief–affordable. This was good news but seven others were suffering from parvo, too, which, the vet said wasn’t uncommon from pups that came from the same place.
Seriously if I ever get my hands on that breeder, I’ll do him serious harm. Gawd. A heads up would have been very helpful.
Luckily the young vet and his boss were having a slow period at the hospital, allowing us to leave all the sick dogs there for the treatment they so very much needed.

They managed to save all of them, the tiny mini-boxer that were only eight weeks old, the big boxers, and the shepherds. All, except for the Dalmatian that died three days into the treatment. ‘Till this day we still regret the fact that we hadn’t found this vet sooner, ‘cause perhaps they would have been able to save the two labs and cockers that we’d already lost. Sure, the good vet claims that with parvo and the mix of other diseases they were suffering from gave a dog a 50/50 shot at survival, they did manage to save six out of seven that time. Such a waste!

The worst thing was that due to the parvo they all had a serious blow to their immune system, causing a kennel cough breakout that threatened severe lung problems for all. The “fun” just didn’t seem to end, and it really appeared that fate…or whatever…wasn’t giving us a break as the cough swept through the entire pack, forcing us to spend a small fortune on even more medication.

I think I can honestly say that those two months of my life were the hardest I ever experienced. It is strange how quickly we got attached to those pups, really. We already had around eighty dogs at the time, and one would think that that number creates a certain amount of distance between human and animal. But those pups were a part of the pack–the family–almost from the moment they entered the house. There’s nothing worse than having to watch helplessly how innocent little creatures just slip away, no matter what you do to save them.

Chaos became a strong dog, however. Just as Trin Trin turned into the Monster Boxer when a dangerous pneumonia almost killed her just months after she had just barely survived the parvo. Heck, the vet had warned that in all likelihood Trin Trin would never regain her full lung capacity after that bout, but her latest X-Ray (she does have Leishmania. AKA the sandfly virus) didn’t show any scar tissue in her lungs. It’s a small miracle, in the vet’s opinion.

It is reassuring to know that the months I spent feeding the once so sick dogs Spirulina for their immune system, garlic for their blood and primrose for their general health, paid off that way.

I always find it strange how stuff like last night’s little scare with Chaos can cause such disturbing memories to surface. I can’t say I enjoy them.

But, back to the day:
After going through the morning rituals, I head on down to the house and start on the day’s laundry first thing. There’s quite a batch that needs to be hung, and after doing so, enjoying the sunlight that filters its way underneath the courtyard’s roof, I walk into the house to fold the dry batch I’ve gathered.

Chatting with big brother, who has already started the chore, we move from laundry to breakfast and then get to work on the book project…finding our focus lacking considerably when the mood is obviously “in the air” again. We manage only a few pages in the hours that follow, and in the end I decide to call it a day and start on dinner, instead.

After a quick search through our supplies, I settle on rice with veggies. Nasi, it’ll hit the spot well enough, while offering variety and vitamins with the 9 different vegetables I manage to scrounge up.

It is eaten with appreciation, I find, pleased that even the sibs, who really like the taste of basmati rice better than that of the ordinary long grain par boiled rice, have eaten a good portion.

I have a persistent nagging ache in my lower back since awakening this morning, and after deciding that I really can’t stand it much longer, I take a painkiller before setting to the task of dishes and cleanup for when we continue with the kitchen.

The top cupboards that we’ve fastened appropriately last night have dried and it is time to put the china in, along with the cooking herbs and spices, that’ll bring us closer to completion.
What with all the sawdust that has been floating around for the past two weeks, all the bottles, cans and containers need to be cleaned, and while I start, middle sister takes over the chore so I can resume cutting out strips of wood that still need to be attached in and around the cabinets.

Little sister takes the painting upon her shoulders once more, and is moving around on the counter, slapping primer on the bare wood as I finish cutting and then start drilling holes for the shelves that need to be placed.

By the time the evening comes to an end, music playing noisily on big brother’s computer now that the TV is occupied with recording series that we don’t have time to watch right now, we start to see the end result of our hard work.

The cooking cupboard looks quaint with all the bottles and cans, and soon the shelves can be placed for more storage. With the extra shelves, our serviceable China will have all the room they need, too, and that will be a positive change, to say the least.

While big brother is finishing up the compartment sections for the cutlery drawer, so little sister can roll paint on that as well, middle sister and I start to clean up. Due to the old oven having been out of commission for so long, we forgot to clean the new one after we used it last, and something is smelling…nasty.

Some scrubbing follows, along with more cleaning of pots and pans that can finally be placed in their allotted drawers. It all fits, with room to spare, I am pleased to see by the time we’re done and sigh our pleasure of the view that is getting to be more perfect every day.

Little sister announces that she thinks it’s looking great now…and that when we first started out she’d had her doubts: If for no other reason than the fact that the island counter was so huge and bare. But now with the reverted J of cupboards hanging over it–soon with the lazuli blue spice drawers attached beneath–she agrees that it looks downright cozy, while allowing for easy access to us…rather than the dogs. Hah.

There’s quite a bit of rubbish to throw out there at the end. Old pans that disappeared into the back of the kitchen cabinets over the years are examined for future use or discarding, clearing most of the remaining counter of the old kitchen that is scheduled to be torn down in the next few days.

I am somewhat relieved when we’re done for the night, and decide to sit in front of the TV a bit, taking the time to pet my patient dogs–they really were at their best behavior these two weeks–when there wasn’t time to do so for the duration of the day. Chaos stretches out on my lap…not an easy thing to do for an eighty-pound dog, but he manages well enough. Dax jumps up to settle on my shoulder, and the rest just lounges around my feet as half an hour of petting ensues.

Even though it was a successful day, remodeling-wise, my mood is somewhat blue by the end of the eve, when I head on up to my quarters and feed the dogs. I wonder what’s wrong this time. I do find these mood swings to be terribly annoying, especially when there really is no reason for it.

Ah well, tomorrow’s another day, and it’s bound to be another busy one.

Going to keep it short today. I’m running way too late!

I get up half an hour early today, ‘cause we really have a busy schedule ahead, and unless I give up on some much needed sleep, I fear that we aren’t going to fit it all in.
Miraculously I’m not a complete wreck when I wake up and hurry through the morning rituals as fast as possible, if for no other reason than the fact that the temperatures are eerily close to freezing and I want to get to the house where heaters are likely to burn full force.

A glance outside shows the mountain to the west covered with snow, which is pretty much unheard of this time of year. But there it is, a long stretch of white on the entire ridge, lower than it was on the two occasions I had the pleasure of seeing it before.

It’s going to be a busy day. I manage to do my workout, fifty minutes of it, and get down to editing, since we have only a few hours, and we still need to read through the whole vampire flick at least once before we send it out to the publisher.

The posting of a fan trailer on Youtube, which of course absolutely thrills me, interrupts even these few hours. It’s absolutely gorgeous, and though the HD quality I had seen of the “Work in progress” of W.I. Investigations/Shape Shifter was totally intriguing, I think I actually like this one better. Mysterious, and dark, just the way it’s supposed to be.

Also, right in the middle of a rather exciting pursuit in the story, a phone call from grandpa informs us that a large number of dogs have squeezed their way through two fences and are now running free outside the property.

Fear squeezes my throat tight, since a busy mountain road is only a hundred yards or away from the gate and if any dogs reach it, things might turn nasty. While I scramble to put the computers away, big brother and little sister head on up, calling the pack back, and by the time I join them, they’re all safely back inside, looking mighty pleased.
Idiots! They know better than to venture outside!

But anyways, still properly excited about the trailer–and calming down from the scare–by the time sunset arrives we get ready to leave and head on up to the car to go to town for our lessons. It goes well, again, the short lapses of time between the last session speeding up learning enough to make me confident I just might pass the exams in the near future, when I see I’ve answered at least ninety-eight percent of the test questions correctly.

After an hour behind the school computers, we head to the home improvement store where aluminum strips and another pint of paint are acquired for the kitchen project.
Town is decidedly warmer than our mountain, the sea climate dominant and though still cold for this area, a lot more pleasant.

That done we go home, where the dogs give their usual jubilant welcome. They are cold too, however, and as soon as they’ve got their share of attention, they cluster around the burning heaters, soaking up the heat by squeezing as close as possible to the bright red surfaces. Heck, some of the dogs won’t even care if their fur gets singed, and will stay sitting against the heat with the smell of burning hair filling the air, until we push them away. Like I said before. Idiots! Hah.

We have a quick dinner, fries and salad, and watch a “Bones” rerun for a bit until, around ten, I finally decide it’s time to get back to work on the kitchen. None of us is really feeling up to it, but we manage to get some small things done before midnight that really needed to get done.

It’s almost freezing when I head up to my cabin, the dogs not lingering outside for even a minute as soon as I turn on the small heater and lift the lazy few of my pack onto the bed before I disperse their food.

The floors are dreadfully cold, but, luckily, large cushions (the one-piece kind, this time, thank God) are eagerly used by the dogs who can’t fit on the bed.
It’s promising to be another chilly night during which I will be required to keep the heater on, lest the Monster Boxer ends up with another pneumonia.

I spend several hours online. I couldn’t wait to share the clip thing with a variety of people I chat with on forums and the likes, eager to hear what their impression was and if those who read the story feel the same thing I do when I see it.

Here’s the link, in case you’re wondering. Hah.
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=8mxY2OxZeUM

We’ll see.

Colder still.

I wake up nice and toasty for a change, the wind having died down and the sun shining warmly overhead when I let the dogs out and discard a good three layers of clothes until only my pjs are left.

Pleased with the warm temperatures, I calmly go through the morning rituals digging through my closet and find that I don’t have pants to wear now that I’ve brought my laundry down yesterday.
Scowling at the meager pickings, a light bulb goes off in my head when I walk past my storage chest. If my memory serves me right, there are still several jeans that I haven’t managed to squeeze into for six years at least.

Warily I dig through the mess, until right there on the bottom the plastic back shows the outline of the familiar jeans design. Three pairs, no less, and after taking them out, examining the size somewhat doubtfully, I toss them on the bed and try them out.

Success! They fit perfectly, and are even loose around the legs. That is something short of a miracle, to say the least. So, dressed in the new-old jeans I head on down to the house, for once wearing only two layers, with my vest hooked around my bag, just in case.

What with all the activities going on these past two weeks, I’ve decided to take another rest day (workout-wise) and head on over to the laundry to get part of yesterday’s batch inside. By the time I get the basket with the wet pile outside and hang about half of it, it hits me: Right in the center of my face!

A breath taking wall of cold, slamming in place and eradicating every hint of warmth as clear white mist streams out with my breath. Oh. My. God! It’s like “The sixth sense”, or something. In all the twelve years that we’ve lived in Spain, I have never felt my lungs hurt with the cold. It’s literally astonishing. Like there was a temperature drop of a good ten degrees in just seconds.

Feeling it inside too, big brother closes the heavy curtain in front of the open door and starts lighting the heaters, by the time I hurry on inside, the dogs eagerly coming in my pursuit, since they’ve obviously felt it too.

I’m not feeling my best today. Somehow my mood has drastically changed in the hour that has passed since I woke up, and when big brother and I settle down to work on the computer, it’s all I can do to work on the editing job.

We hash through the notes he’s made, while I struggle with my incapability of dealing with criticism today. Most of the time I can handle it well enough by ignoring big brother’s occasional sigh of frustration at some scene where his reading got blocked to some error he can’t locate. But not today, with chilling cold penetrating my legs right through my jeans. Each sigh, grunt and shake of his head makes me want to shove my computer off the table, before stomping off.

It’s one of those “everything sucks” moods, for sure. I can’t focus on editing; every change feels like a major disaster–even though I try not to show this, of course–and by the time we reach the last chapter I’m pretty much chomping at the bit to get the heck away from my computer, lest I do something drastic.

Explaining the problem to big brother, I head to the kitchen and start on dinner instead. I know better than to work on editing when I’m in this particular mood, but of course I didn’t want to disappoint big brother, who feels an urge to get the story done for sending it to the publisher ASAP.
With a little luck we’ll manage more tomorrow, but I’m not holding my breath. These moods tend to linger.

Looking through our supplies, I decide on baked potatoes with carrots and cauliflower on the side. While pealing the potatoes, grandpa is making himself useful, cleaning up kitchen appliances which I intend to put in one of the empty drawers, and by the time dinner’s done, they’re all neatly set on the counter, waiting for me to put away.

Dinner goes down well enough, even though my mood hasn’t improved yet. My attitude towards the food matches the one I had towards writing today, so it tastes both bland and too potent at the same time. I know, it’s impossible, but it’s really the only way to describe it.

Not feeling up to wasting any time in front of the TV, I stay in the kitchen and get to work on cleaning up and putting appliance away in one of the smaller drawers.
Miraculously it fits…but then, considering that the smaller drawers are twice the size of any normal drawer, it really is no big surprise.

Cleaning up the rest, I prepare for the continuation of the remodeling project. The old china cupboard needs to be removed, and cups, glasses and plates get carefully placed in the corner of the section of the old kitchen that is still standing. One by one the sibs join me, the sisters returning to their sanding and painting while big brother and I start tearing away the old cupboard and end up literally tearing it off the wall when it becomes clear that the old attachments are no longer useable.

Clearing the wall with a certain sense of victory we continue by hanging the top cupboards. 5 layers of paint are visible in the cleared section.
The biggest one goes up first. A stretch of 144 cm is attached to the brick wall and the wooden beam of the second floor, when we realize that it’s crooked. After a quick examination, it turns out that the beam overhead is slightly bent, requiring some adjustments to the attachment we’ve just made.

In the meanwhile, little sister has painted the last drawer cover and has started on varnishing the oak bar that stretches over the raised section in the center, and the pedestals on which the faucets stand, making the wood gleam prettily as we try not to get any mess on it.

The second cupboard follows soon thereafter, before little sister and I start preparing the back of the cupboard for fastening, and big brother sees to the crooked problem.
There’s some debate as to how we will attach the whole, but in the end some heavy bolts into the top of the casing, keep it nicely in place.

Middle sister is still sanding by that time, going through the last of the painted backs that got treated yesterday.
I pretty much play “hold-it-steady” while little sister drills hole after hole and starts putting in screws for when big brother declares the main cupboard ready for back-attachment.

With little sister climbing on top of the counter to use the heavy drill-the battery charged one is out of power, again–on the board that fits perfectly on the frame that awaits it.

The third, and last, cupboard will need a support, so while I help middle sister with the back of the squat casing, big brother cuts out a triangle that is going to support it in the air.
It takes us a solid hour to finally attach the last one, the sisters adding the final touches of paint before we finally step back to admire the latest almost-finished part of the kitchen.

Just a few more suspension additions and we’ll be able to put away all that the old kitchen is still hiding.
We’re all, once again, pretty much pooped by the time midnight arrives and rapidly go through our habitual cleanup. No one is feeling too perky mentally, for some reason, and after a quick snack of crackers with cheese I head on up for my quarters.

The cold astounds me. I think this is the worst temperature we’ve had since we moved here when I enter my living room and see that the thermometer is showing the God-awful temperature of four degrees, with outside being even colder.
Hardly able to believe it I quickly feed my dogs and than start pulling on even more layers than I usually do.

As the cold settles into my body, a sweater is added to two and the vest I’m already wearing. Along with two pairs of sock and fur-lined house shoes that just barely keep the cold floor from chilling my feet as I move around the cabin, hurrying through finding more blankets that I’ll need to get through the night.

Luckily I find another one in the metal chest under my bed, and am most pleased when I realize it’s made of old fashioned wool rather than synthetics, which aught to work a lot better. After I’ve washed my hands I start to really fret, ‘cause my hands literally freeze up, hurting as if I’ve just cleaned out the freezer, as I dig through my drawers in search of gloves.

The knitted ones really don’t help at all, I find after little more than thirty minutes, and start digging again until I locate a leather pair, padded thickly that finally do the job. Though sitting out here, freezing while writing the Blog (with more use of the backspace than actual keys) I’m dreading the coming night just a little. Poor doggies, too, since there really isn’t enough room to accommodate more than six of them on the bed.

Almost finished...in more ways than one.

I’m half an hour late getting up this morning. Thick clouds hide the sky, and rain is nearing, if the smell outside is an indication, when I let the dogs out, shaking my head at night dashing madly away to do his business.

Since I don’t have to do my workout this morning, I take my time in my cabin, pleased that the new couch cushions are still in place, and that the dogs haven’t managed to dislodge them during the night. The sitting room looks remarkably neat for a change, and that’s always a pleasure.

I head to the house with only faint beams of sunlight breaking through the thick clouds. I enter the courtyard when I suddenly realize that Trin Trin isn’t among the pack. Apparently I’ve left her locked in my cabin, and rather than heading back up, with the dogs inevitably coming in my pursuit, I ask big brother to get her when he goes to let the pack out of the patio.

Laundry’s the first priority when I arrive, setting my computer bag on the counter and lugging two full baskets out to the courtyard, before I take off the dry batch and deposit it on the table for later folding.

It takes me little time to hang the wet, even though I have to stop halfway through to bring the now released Trin Trin into the house and snap her on her leash. Knight II is being particularly jumpy too, so I leash him to one of the poles supporting the courtyard roof and finish the chore soon thereafter.

All around the rest of the pack comes storming inside, big brother walking in their midst and preceding me into the house where we fold the laundry before starting on our breakfast.

We spent several hours going over the latest book project, getting quite a bit done, with the miraculous number of 1700 words removed in total. We’ll have to do another check tomorrow, of course, but with only a hundred or so to spare, we feel pretty confident that we’ve removed enough.

I still don’t like having to remove literarily pretty words that make the story flow fluidly, but it’s not supposed to be literary. Contemporary with 15.000 words is the limit, so we’re stretching as it is. While I’m editing, big brother and grandpa are avidly discussing world affairs, which occasionally distracts me from my work, until at long last the story is finished and officially edited once.

By the time darkness arrives, and rain is pounding down on the roof, I shut the computer down and head for the kitchen to make dinner. We still have some mushroom pastries from last night, so with that in mind I make a non-lettuce salad to go with it, and disperse it on the plates with the remaining pastries.

The combination works well, allowing for a filling, hot + cold meal for all, and wash up the dishes I’ve used before deciding on starting to put away kitchen utensils and the likes into the new drawers. Oven dishes and tins fit beautifully in one of the big drawers. Another drawer is filled with bowls, sieves and serving dishes, leaving more than enough room for more.

Grandpa went to the home improvement store this morning, and was able to find four more of the drawer handles, making us two short of the plan. We shift around ideas for a bit and then decide to put three of them on the shallow ones, so we can choose between using one, or two to pull them open.
This leaves two each for the remaining two drawers that really should be opened with two hands, because they’re so big and heavy.

It is starting to look pretty darn fancy, I admit, when big brother comes over to resume actual building of “the project”.
Ten minutes later we are once again sawing boards, managing to get most of the required boards from the MDF that got blown off the car the other day–and was torn in three. At least there isn’t too much waste, just bits and pieces from where we have to cut off jagged edges.

Five boards get cut with the powerful circle saw before we’ve got all the required wood, and I get started on sanding the drawer covers for the last time and painting them by the time the sisters come on down to join in. While they’re preparing to start with the primer on the new boards, I quickly roll a thin layer of finishing paint on the remaining five drawers, and set them aside before I get one of the top cupboards and give it its final treatment as well.

What comes next is taking out the elevated center of the island–or technically the peninsula, hah–so we can cut out two rectangular shapes in the centers of both sides to put in grilles that will allow the heat of the oven to escape freely. While I get to work, big brother is attaching three electricity plugs on either side, and guiding the wires through the section.

I’ve just finished sawing the first piece out and am holding the grille against it when we realize that there’s no way to attach it, because the narrow opening won’t allow for a screwdriver to be used. There’s some debate, until we realize that with the removal of six screws a complete section can be lifted away, allowing for easy access for both sides.
Big brother, done with the electricity, takes over the task of sawing out the second piece, allowing me to smoke a quick cigarette before attaching the second metal grating.

By ten in the evening both grilles are fitted, and make the whole actually look even better than before as we put the sections back together and place the bar back in the center of the isle. The good fit still amazes me; it doesn’t even wiggle when it’s settled.

On the other side the sisters are still painting, taking up half of the counters, but by then the drawers have dried enough for the attachment of the handles, to which we get without pause. The primer the sisters have applied is dry now too, so they go straight to rolling on the color paint that is the second to last treatment the wood is going to need.

It is not an easy task to attach eleven, two-plug, handles in such a way that they don’t get uneven, but with only one adjustment throughout the procedure, we manage and start sliding the finished drawers in place.

A pause is warranted by the arrival of little brother, who has made the changes to his trailer clip during the course of the day, showing a wonderful end result that would have had me load the film up immediately, if he hadn’t claimed to have two more tiny little faults to improve upon before he feels confident that he has created perfection. Honestly, to me perfection was there at the start. Still, it is marvelous that he cares so much. We watch the Shape Shifter trailer about four times before we return to work, and finish the last couple of drawers.

Beautiful. It is a single word that describes the end result so very well. The old silver handles make the rather modern design look great, while letting it appear to be very streamlined at the same time. We’re all dreadfully pleased by the overall image.

By the time our part of the job is done, and cleanup has commenced on my side of the counter, the sisters are done as well and help with the remainder of the mess. Rather than all of us moving off to our preferred areas in the house, the sisters and I linger in the kitchen, putting kitchen utensils in the drawers, and creating a nice order in roomy storage.

Except for the cooking pots and pans, everything’s pretty much put away by the time the evening comes to an end.
Cutlery has been washed and cleaned–sawdust is everywhere after two weeks of construction–fitting into their appointed places by the time exhaustion makes us all drag our feet and finish with the last bits well past midnight.

We’re all famished, and while the younger sibs are preparing their usual nightly snack, I take a slice of bread with cheese, and then head on up to my cabin. The rain has gratefully let up while I climb the mountain and cast a glance up at the slowly clearing sky.

My feet are killing me, my lower back hurts like heck, and I’m yawning constantly as I feed the dogs, manage to read about three pages in my book of the week, and then get down to my first session on the Net this day.

Weekends are always slow, so I’m not surprised–and more than a little relieved for a change–that there is not a single personal message to take care of.
For some reason our work hours are increasing, unnoticed to us all. Today we were on our feet constantly for a solid eight hours. I feel every one of them. Hah.

The dogs are fed and sleeping on their individual places around me. Yadzia had his second Leishmania injection and thus all the “must dos” are done.
My day is over. Yay!