Escaped dogs and...Demolition. Yay!

Not a good night. I lie awake, my mind running a mile a minute well into the early hours of morning, not finding myself drifting off until past 7 AM and am more than a little annoyed with my inability to shut my brain off.

I’m definitely punchy when the alarm screeches in my ear–easily piercing through the ear plugs–and it makes the dogs go insane, the way it usually does.
The monster boxer has woken me up four times already, my blankets are halfway down the bed, and I’m seriously aggravated when I shove her in the back yard and then make my way through the rest of the pack, making even more of a racket than they usually do.

The weather’s pleasant enough, but since the lack of sleep is having it’s effects I can’t really appreciate it as I start the morning rituals and get ready to head on down and to the house.
Laundry, the steady routine of it calms me a little, and after I’ve taken off the dry, hung the wet and shove breakfast down while standing at the counter, I feel remotely human again.

Before I start on my morning coffee and much needed cigarette, I fold the large pile of laundry I’ve deposited on the kitchen table, heave my computer bag in place, hook everything up and give my system the final boost that should get me through the first part of the day.

Messages aplenty today, but in due time, just about when the sibs come downstairs, big brother and I resume our editing session. Two more chapters to go and then we should have the latest project over and done with. Should, being the operative word here.

It goes well enough, right up until grandpa calls from his place, announcing that Prama (pointer mix) has managed to dig her way through the fence again, loosing the majority of the pack in the upper garden, while she has somehow squeezed her way through the recently fixed gate.

A disaster waiting to happen! Can you imagine what would happen if some unsuspecting person is around while the pack breaks free? Oh. My. God! Just thinking about that makes me break out in hives. Until we’ve managed to fix the fences properly–they have been up for a good ten years, and they’re showing some serious wear–the dogs are confined to the courtyard as due punishment.

Right now they are definitely too eager to roam to be trusted, especially Prama and Tadaika–the eager little bastards–who seem to be the cause every time.

The barely contained disaster-in-the-making puts a serious damper on our editing; thoughts whirling with all the trouble this event could cause, making it hard to concentrate. Still, with a lot of effort we manage to hack our way through it, finally reaching the last page…when big brother suddenly claims that one particular scene still isn’t “sitting well”.
The rest he feels confident about now, but that scene, the dialogue–he waves his hand vaguely–it is “off”…whatever that means?

Since he is unable to come up with the “right” way it is supposed to go, I get rather frustrated by the entire thing. At this point I just want to tell him to shut up, or offer something I can work with, until I finally just delete the “offensive” scene and do a complete rewrite that appears to satisfy him at last.

I still don’t know what was “off” about the first one, but don’t care at this time and try to make myself take a step back in order to look at it objectively. In the end, I decide that it doesn’t really matter in the bigger scheme of things. This scene goes as well as the first in my opinion, so if this one meets big brother’s high standards, so be it.

The new scene will need another edit, of course, but with a little luck we’ll be sending the story to a publisher tomorrow or Monday morning at the latest. What with the Holidays coming up there really isn’t a time limit, but we figure we might as well get it over with and move on to something new.

Seriously relieved with the semi-done status of the story, I shut everything down at last. Next I wrestle my way through the dogs, and head to the kitchen to recycle last night’s soup. Would be a waste to throw it out, so we might as well finish it.

I let the meal digest for a bit before heading back to the kitchen for cleanup and resuming “the project”.
The small spice drawers certainly make the whole look good, creating a rather robust image for the top cabinets as I clean up the counters and then suck in a deep breath before turning towards where the last section of the old kitchen is waiting.

It looks like a disaster area, really. Covered with tools, cases, wood and debris that have been tossed there during last night’s cleanup. It is taunting me, and–sucking up the distinct feeling of not-wanting-to-tackle the mess–I dig in.

First thing’s first: Removing everything and anything, and putting it somewhere out of the way, without putting it out of reach.
I’m most pleased when both sisters come down and join in, moving back and forth to get the tools out of the way, while I remove old cabinet doors and crawl into the open spaces revealed to see how everything is fastened. Screws, thank God!

With the rapid removal of the stuff piled on the counter, and little sister moving back to the new counter to slap on the third layer of paint on the underside of the spice drawer casings, little brother comes down too and gets to work on the oak wood frames for their second treatment with varnish.

At long last I have room to start disassembling and twist into a variety of uncomfortable positions until it’s just age keeping the old counter together.

Middle sister is just finishing up removing the last few screws around the corner, when big brother joins in too, and decide to just jerk the counter off with one mighty heave. It sends both middle sister and me scrambling back just in time before the oak wood sections of the counter come off. Age has made the glue brittle and we are able to save most of the oak for later use, should we wish to do so.

The carcasses of the cabinets are now revealed, and since they refuse to come loose, I call out a warning to the sibs–they’re removing the old shelves I’ve put aside–and bring my foot up for a solid kick against one of the old walls.
Did a slight miscalculation on the strength part, I’ll admit. Almost gave two dogs a heart attack when the section takes flight and lands a solid yard away. Hah.

Much to my surprise, the rest remains standing and it takes three more kicks before the entire structure finally crumbles. With the way the old kitchen looked there at the end, I’d figured a strong breeze would have knocked it over, but it actually took some effort. Go figure!

Bit by bit the frame is removed, at long last the high, storage cabinet in the corner is free enough for me to start removing screws and hooks. It comes down without mishap, and is removed until at long last we’ve reached the foundation/bottom.

At this point we’re all joking about the possibility about what we could find underneath the section that remains. Phrases such as; “It’s alive” and “I definitely see something moving down there,” are tossed back and forth, becoming more outlandish with every minute that passes.

There is the remote possibility of snakes, of course, which little brother gleefully points out, actually freaking me out for a bit when I see something move through a crack. It’s an old electrical wire that big brother’s yanking out on the other side, and I profusely “thank” little brother for putting the idea in my head.

There also is the rat infestation we had a few years back, and there is a distinct smell coming up from what used to be closed off completely, bearing testament of it. Rather than getting any closer than is absolutely necessary, I once again use my foot for the removal, holding my breath, just in case something jumps out.

Now, I don’t have any problems with rats. I do however have serious problems with things jumping at me when I least expect it.

Nothing does, much to all our relief when just a soft kick breaks through the eleven-year-old pressed-wood without trouble, showing only one old rat nest which is spreading a rather nasty musky smell by then. The remainder of debris and the likes are removed posthaste–a can of odor remover soon half empty, since the smell is bad and nauseates me–by the time we’re done and decide that it is a job well done.

For the first time since we build the house, we are able to see a section of unpainted wall, and it announces that the old kitchen is now truly gone. Yay!

The sibs stay for the duration of cleanup and then disappear to their own quarters to resume their most recent discovery of being able to follow piano lessons on youtube. For the past two days I’ve been listening to slow, offbeat, but rapidly improving reps of familiar pop tunes. Once my schedule clears a little, I’ll be sure to give it a try, too. I’ve wanted to play the piano since I was a toddler.

It is around eleven in the evening by then, and with the often repeated reps sounding in my ear, big brother and I apply wide strips of aluminum to the open areas between the ceiling and top cupboards, allowing us to use to tops as storage too, once we get them attached.

At long last today’s work is done, and big brother and I settle in front of the TV to watch the recorded last episode of season one of “Dexter”. It’s such a shame that this will be the last one for a while. It’s a wonderfully twisted show, but since the channel that broadcasted it terms it as “not successful” due to too few ratings, it is unlikely that the next season will come on any time soon.

I’m feeling a bit edgy by then, and though Dexter is always fascinating to watch, I’m kind of relieved when it is time for me to head on up to my cabin for the night. I don’t know where this edgy feeling comes from but it’s frustrating as heck.

Just need to feed the dogs, go through my messages and write the Blog, and then I can call it a day.

In short: The day!

I wake comfortably toasty today. The sun’s shining and the temperature in my cabin has risen to a whopping 18 degrees (C) when I lunge out of bed. I immediately grab the Monster Boxer and throw her outside into the backyard, before she causes any serious damage. That little problem out of the way, I head to the front and let the rest of the dogs out as I suck in a wonderfully warm breath of fresh air.

It almost feels too good to be true as I go through the morning rituals, shedding layers as I go, and doing some stretches to get the sleep-kinks out of my back.
Marvelous! The temperatures are actually so nice that I forget to take my vest with me down to the main house, and get to the business of hanging a big load of laundry, waiting for me.

We’re running a little behind, by the time I finish but it doesn’t bother me, when there are no pressing matters pushing for haste, for a change.
Though yesterday’s new knee-ups didn’t appear to have any effect, my abdominal muscles have a nice used feel to them today. Pleased by the sensation I do twelve more during the course of the day…just because.

It’s that pleasant tension-pressure feel, really–like a loose tooth you keep prodding at–and this is the kind of soreness that by far exceeds the sensation of actual muscle pains that most “new” exercises cause. Besides, I think hanging in the air–while pulling my knees up to my chest–is having a good effect on my back. I didn’t feel a twinge today. Yay!

Editing doesn’t get done during the morning session. While I’m sipping coffee, big brother and I get distracted by the plot of the next story, and then move on to other topics when CNN newscasters draw our attention.

One has to understand the dynamics to fully imagine how watching the news goes around here. It is not a matter of a bunch of people just sitting there taking in the reports. No. Everything and anything that comes past gets discussed, argued about and occasionally scoffed at…quite vocally, most of the time. Hah. It brings up remarkably passionate debates that can go on for hours–the way they did today.

By the time sunset arrives, we haven’t gotten through more than a couple of pages, and I shut the computer down to start dinner.
No one’s really hungry, so in the end I settle on a soup made out of fresh cherry and normal tomatoes, onions, some red bell pepper, Chinese spices, and a big tablespoon of apricot jam to give the brew a sweeter taste.

What with the way fresh produce is grown these days, a lot of taste has disappeared from veggies and fruits. I remember when I was a child that apples, tomatoes and practically every other veggie and fruit were taste-bud-teasers, while now everything has become sorta bland–unless one is willing to spend a fortune of bio products. It’s such a pity, and another example of quantity having won the battle over quality, in most cases.

With a spoonful of cottage cheese added to the portions, the family members devour the soup. The bread supply rapidly decreases and proves that hunger has been hiding up until the soup stirred it to life. Hah.

I digest the meal for about half an hour, watching a rerun of Dharma & Greg, and then move to the kitchen to clean up in preparation of the seemingly endless project we started preparing for months ago.

I’m determined to get the spice drawers up today, and while one by one the sibs join me, we slowly get down to business.
Sanding down wood that has been covered by years of grime–hidden in niches that were invisible until we broke down the old section–is a messy chore that has little sister’s muttering her grievances over all the while. Middle sister and I start fitting the long stretches that need to be attached under the top cupboards as soon as they’re cleaned.

There are a few hiccups along the way, but around eleven O’clock, with little sister and little brother–who’s joined us for the first time in weeks now that he’s decided to take a break from his computer–painting the new sections we’ve hung.

The atmosphere’s a little silly. The two youngest sibs are uttering exaggerated complaints about having to bend and twist on top of the counter to get the job done. It is quite a task, and I admit more than once–gleefully–that I’m VERY happy that they’re doing the honors. This, of course, earns me more than one eye roll as I lay it on thick.

With the youngest two painting away, middle sister and I are working on adding real wood decorations, to cover up the exposed boards that were used to create the casings of the twenty-something spice drawers. There is a lot of laughter, when the awkward positions underneath the hanging cupboards cause inevitable spills, and the evening steadily progresses.

Clean up follows, after which big brother and I settle behind our computers once more to try our hand at another hour of editing. It goes well. We go through a full chapter before it’s time to call it a day and I cast a final glance at the progress made in the kitchen today before I chase the dogs out into the night and head on up to my quarters.

I’m pleasantly weary tonight, and there are several messages that add to the general state of well being as the last few hours pass behind the computer.

The review I wrote on Amazon got posted, and while I read through it I’m pretty content that it was a job well done–especially for a first try.
It’s just an honest subjective opinion that was a nice experiment to try out. An experiment I might, or might not repeat, at some point when I come across a story that inspires me.

Well, I’m running late, as usual. So I’ll wrap things up here, and call it a day.

School, cleanliness and...semi-demolition.

It is pleasantly warm when I wake up this morning, the wind having died down considerably during the night, allowing the sun to warm the mountain with wonderfully bearable temperatures. This allows me to step out on my porch without huddling in my multitude of layers when I let the dogs out.

They have showed some of their annoying tendencies during the early hours of day, of course, but they aren’t making a racket for a change while I turn the key and jump away before Knight II actually plows right over me in his haste to get out of the cabin.

Bliss, it is momentarily the only thing I can feel as for the first time in days I am able to shed two of the four layers I’m wearing and move freely while going through the morning rituals.

I manage to get in a quick read before it is time for me to get dressed and head for the house dressed only in clean Jeans and a warm turtleneck sweater that keeps me just warm enough on my way down. The dogs dash into the house the moment I open the door–big brother has closed it to keep his pack from making a racket in the courtyard– and shake my head when the two packs collide and go through their morning greetings with a mix of suspicion and excitement, just the way they do every single day. You’d think they get used to it.

What with our agreement not to edit today unless we really felt inspired, I can calmly go do my workout this day, changing into my exercise clothes and putting on my usual list of music before I start my warm up.

It goes well enough, now that the main pack is still locked in the patio and in individual bedrooms, allowing me to move freely through the motions. By the time I’ve done the warm ups and move over to the punching bag, big brother has put his computer aside and is doing his own exercises while occasionally trying to have a coherent conversation with me.

With me punching the bag, and him lifting weights, it is a funny sight, to say the least.
And no matter how often I remind him that I can’t respond while I’m counting out my routines, he always forgets, throwing me off count and making me grunt my displeasure when I need to start over, just to be sure that I do them all.

When, at long last, the five-jab sequence is over and done with, I do some stretches to catch my breath and take the weights from big brother to slowly cool off. I do this only so I won’t be going through the agony of punch-soreness…which always happens if I don’t do some weightlifting afterwards.

Strange how punching works: Instead of pumping muscles it really makes them tight and wiry, which, I’ve learned, is rather painful at the end of a day.
As I sometimes describe to little sister who shows some curiosity for the workout; without weightlifting, you start to feel as if someone stabs a corkscrew between your shoulders, and turns it around full force.

Hmmm. Looking at it written down I can suddenly understand the face little sister pulled when I explained it. Hah. But anyways, watching big brother do pull-ups and knee-ups on the bar that hangs on the ceiling beside my punching bag, I can’t resist trying it out, if just once…the knee-ups at least.

I manage 8 of the reps before my hands start hurting, and grimace when I hop back down and wonder what good they’ll do if I don’t even feel my abdominal muscles while going through the motions. You’re supposed to feel them while doing this exercise, big brother proclaims, before he starts pondering the possibility that female muscles are differently aligned than those of men, and that I might be using others.
Whatever. I do know that crunches do more for me than this particular work out and proceed to go through forty of them before I consider today’s session done.

What follows is a hot shower to ease the remaining tension from my limbs, and getting dressed to have breakfast.
Working out during the summer months is a lot more pleasurable. During workout it is practically impossible to wear a lot of clothes, and though it isn’t much of a problem while actually doing it, afterwards cooling off is a tricky thing. In the summer I would just jump in the pool for cooling off, while now I need to hurry for a hot shower before I seize up completely.

I’m not really hungry today, so I only eat a small piece of bread before pouring a mug of coffee and heading to the table to set up my computer across from big brother who has settled back down again. It is late already, and the sibs are coming down the stairs by the time I open up the programs I’ll need today.

Since I’m not in the mood for editing, I decide to start on a review I promised for C.S. Marks’ “Elfhunter” and try to divide my attention between that and big brother who’s brainstorming out loud about our next vampire story project across from me.

With only occasional and absent input from me, he writes down the details, but I don’t really resurface from the task at hand until it is time to get ready to go town for our lessons.
I’ve pretty much finished the rough draft of the review by this time, and shut the computer down before I head on up to my cabin to change into different clothes.

Though today’s outfit was clean, the clothes I wear at home are remarkably different from those I wear when I need to go out. At-home-clothes usually have holes, permanent stains and actual tears in them–it is inevitable with our pack, really–and unless there are dire circumstances, I really don’t venture out into the world in them. The stares…they make a body wonder if one has grown a second head, that’s a fact.

I worry about this every once in a while, I’ll admit.
This predominant expectation of a lot of people expecting everyone to look just-so on any given day.
Sure, I get being clean, but in all honesty, minding a hole or two, and even a permanent paint stain here and there…well that’s just superficial in my estimation.

As if there aren’t more important things to consider that outside appearances.
Like manners, friendliness and overall pleasant company that is lacking more and more when I visit stores and malls. These things don’t appear to be the most important things these days, which is a shame, really. Sometimes I fear that the world’s general drive for “cleanliness”, “neatness”, “being fashionable” and overall opinion of what “isn’t done” is erasing things that are so much more important.
These days, when I see a sales clerk or even a customer walking around with actual dirty clothes I’m thinking; “Finally, someone who’s got more important things to think of than outside appearances.”

Ah well, be as that may, I change into my “presentable” clothes and move on to the car. I’m huddling in my vest once more, since a fierce wind is sweeping down the mountain once more, chilling me to the bone during the few minutes that I stand there.

It is late by the time big brother and I arrive at our school, but still there are other students there, working at the computers when we settle down for the count, and immerse ourselves in boring questions.

The tests don’t go as well as I’d hoped this time. Only one without error, today. The seven others have an average of one mistake as an hour and a half passes and we call it a night to head for the El Corte Inglés to buy a couple of headsets for our computers.

Just a couple of weeks ago, Alta, one of our Perro de Agua’s managed to find his way into my computer bag, and was blithely taking out the contents while I was immersed into one project or other and didn’t notice the infraction until he had decimated my headphones completely.
Big brother’s had developed a high buzz in the left ear, so with this in mind we bought two new ones, and then head back home.

Little sister cooked dinner while we were gone, so after greeting the jubilant dogs, I quickly wolf down a portion of the delish Asian noodle dish and start looking around the kitchen to see what can be done today.

The spice drawers! I’ve wanted to see them in place from the day we hung the top cupboards, and with middle sister’s help we start examining the way they are fastened in their previous location.

It takes some figuring, but in the end we find all the bolts and screws and take apart the top section that still hangs over the last part of the old kitchen.
Somewhere in the midst of this activity, big brother joins us, and with his help we manage to take them down for the treatment with primer and paint that will be necessary to make them match the rest of the new kitchen.

Recycling. We’ve become very good at it over the years, I’ll admit. Unless something is literally disintegrating–or close to it–in our hands we’ll reuse it, and this time is no exception. Old screws that are still useable are meticulously gathered, wood set aside of possible later use, and only the absolute worst is thrown on the rapidly growing mountain of debris the old kitchen is becoming just outside the courtyard.

Much to my disappointed, disassembling, resizing and cleaning takes so long that we don’t manage to put the spice drawers up by the time midnight is drawing scarily close. The cleanup needing to be done is daunting, and for a while we just stand there, wondering where to start now that all the counters are covered with sections, wood fragments and other stuff that has been removed.

First things first: Middle sister has taken down the section of narrow strips of wood that used to crown the old counter, and planks are a messy pile with nasty nails sticking out.

While we start removing the nails so the wood can be put into storage, little sister start cleaning the new counter, for as far as this is possible with no place to put the sections that we wish to reuse.

It takes a solid hour before we’re finally done, and utter a unified sigh of relief now that a semblance of order and neatness has returned to our kitchen.
No matter that certain areas still look like a construction site…it is that, nonetheless…things are definitely looking up as we have a short discussion about what’s up next. As soon as the last bit of the old counter is removed, I’m going to have to put in the tiles that are missing beneath that particular section. Once that is done, we’re going to have to move the twin fridge and freezer to the other side of the kitchen, and this is going to be a harrowing task to say the least.

The thought alone exhausts me, and soon thereafter I head on up to my cabin to feed the dogs, read a bit, put the finishing touches in the review and post it, before starting on my messages and writing today’s Blog.

Check, check, cheheck and check. All done for the night!

Hmmm. Just another day, I guess

Disturbing dreams wake me...along with the monsters wrecking the blankets, but that’s nothing new I suppose. Hah. I had wanted to get up earlier today, but when I wake an hour before the alarm, I find myself sitting up in the bed, blinking stupidly at the Boxer and Dane, each pulling at one side of my quilt.

My eyes drift shut even as I’m muttering my disapproval, I make a half-hearted lunge towards Knight II and drifting off mid-movement. Not smart! I almost topple off the bed when I miscalculate the distance and just barely manage to catch my balance.

He isn’t impressed, and neither is Trin Trin, whom I finally grab by the scruff of her neck and drag on the bed before I sink back down into sweet oblivion keeping the monster Boxer in a headlock. I don’t wake up again until the alarm shrills and the monsters are once again “playing” at the foot end of the bed, tearing the edge of my quilt to pieces. Nice, that!

Reluctantly, I get out of bed and let the screeching pack out, leaning limply against the post of the door and squinting at the bright sunlight falling inside.
“Oh, today’s going to be a doozy,” I remember thinking while I shake my head and move back to my room to make the bed.

I drag my way through the morning rituals, considerably sore in my neck–somehow my small neck-pillow has ended up under the bed during the night–I’m semi-happy about the decision of changing my exercise routine to once every three days, rather than every other one for the duration of the kitchen remodeling project. I’m so not in the mood today, even though I’m sure I’ll regret it by the time the evening arrives.

Exercise, I’ve found is an excellent way to keep turmoil thoughts at bay, but in order to function something definitely has to go. Ah well, soon the kitchen will be done, and then I’ll see about how I’m going to handle the workouts.

There’s a big load of laundry to fold, but luckily no new batch to hang, when I arrive at the house. It takes little time to get the pile organized into neat stacks and by the time breakfast is over and done with, big brother and I settle at the computers.

We spent a little while online, with him doing his thing and me going over my messages before grandpa arrives and distracts us from the editing we should be doing.
At long last, by the time the sibs join us from their quarters, we get a few pages done, before, once again, we are drawn away with the disturbing realization that the dogs have escaped the fences again, and are roaming outside, having a blast.

Prama and Tadaika, the little hellions. They’re young still, little over a year, and more than eager to create havoc by literally breaking through our steel fences and riling the rest of the usually calm pack up until they all follow.

What with the last storm that blew out the gate, we haven’t gotten around to making proper repairs yet, and with this latest debacle we decide we’ve had enough of taking this risk. Within an hour of calling the dogs back, and counting them all to make sure we’re not missing any, we set to work.
This time we’re doing a major repair that involves more than just steel wires. After getting the battery run drill, some bolts and a nice metal pole, we bend to the task and give the gate a good yank to test it’s strength by the time we’re done.
It’ll hold…for a while at least.

A serious wind has picked up during the time we work on the gate, and my hands are freezing cold when I head on back down to the house to soak up some much needed heat.

My dogs act as if I’ve been gone a full day instead of the actual fifteen minutes it took us to fix the gate, and I actually need to haul Knight II down on all fours when he slams his huge front paws into my back. What with Chaos, the labs and the cockers throwing their full weight into my knees and hips, I lose my balance completely, and hit the door I’ve just passed sideways, since the narrow corridor is filled to capacity by crazy dogs. Insanity rules for a good five minutes before they all saunter back towards the sitting area and settle in front of the heater as if nothing has happened.

Rolling my eyes at them, I head back to the table and set the computer, I’d put away for the duration of the gate-fix, up. Big brother and I fail completely at focusing on editing, once more. A frustrating thing, especially when the story you’re working on is as filled with humor as this one is, but it does happen on occasion in an author’s life, I’ve learned. You deal with it by distracting yourself with different projects.

At long last I give up on the work, and head for the kitchen to reheat the leftovers from last night’s dinner, adding Krupuk (aka prawn crackers) with small fried cheese in dough snacks to make up for the lack of quantity that needs to be considerable for a family of seven.

It takes only a little time to prepare and eat, bringing me back to work on the kitchen less than an hour later when nothing playing on the TV manages to capture my attention. “Criminal Minds” is on. But it’s a rerun, much to my regret.
Instead, I start sanding the shelves I cut, and little sister painted, last night, fully intending on taking the painting chore on my shoulders, when little sister comes heading down the stairs, proclaiming that she’s doing the painting again.

I grimace, looking around, wondering what the heck I can do instead, when my eye falls on the big board from which the build-in waste bin’s cover still needs to be cut.
At the table big brother is working on getting W.I. Investigations/Shapeshifter on Amazon’s CreateSpace, so he’s not doing the honors, and with middle sister’s help I set out on the chore that will bring us another step closer to the completion of the kitchen.

There is some measuring and cutting involved in the entire thing, but with the aid of the circle saw, we get it done quickly. Next comes attaching the metal hooks that are going to keep the back and front of the foldout waste bin together. It takes us some time to get the right screws from the variety of suitcases that are piled into a corner these days for accessibility.

We’ve got plenty of long ones, and really small ones but the sturdy middle size is lacking considerably until we finally find one for at least one of the metal eyes. The shorter ones will have to hold the rest together.

There’s quite a bit of agility involved in fastening screws in a narrow section such as this part of the kitchen counter, but in the end we manage, and continue to attach the handle and start looking for the piano hinge that we planned to use.
It is nowhere to be found, so in the end, after digging through old supplies I find two sturdy–rather big–hinges that had at one point been intended for some outside project that was altered before they were put to use.

From across the counter, little sister is debating the merits of the big hinges with me, while slapping the second layer of paint on the utensils’ compartment, cheerfully proclaiming that the hinges are really hideous. Well, duh. That much is apparent. Hah.

I examine them for a while, looking at them from all angles before I call big brother over and debate the possibility of using the “hideous” things with him. These two hinges might actually work even better, since they’re incredibly strong, and won’t be visible below the edge of the counter anyway. Pleased with the discovery, and the fact that we won’t have to postpone the project another day to get a proper hinge, middle sister and I start attaching them.

It works beautifully, and while middle sister is spraying a liberal amount of oil to overcome the squeaky sound they’re making, little sister is putting in the metal framework around the grilles on the raised section of the counter.

Deciding that, since the silicone is being used already, I remove the uneven edge of the waste bin’s cover with the big sanding machine, and have little sister attach a strip of the metal to the top as well. It will protect the wood, and give a pretty finishing touch to the whole to boot.

Sort of amazed that the foldout section actually works (I don’t know why, I haven’t messed up so far, hah) all the sibs take their turn in testing it. Little brother actually comes down from where he’s working on a personal computer project, and starts opening and closing the section time and again, droning the lines of the familiar Ikea commercial: “Mom. Can I have a cookie?” This provokes hysterical bursts of laughter from us when he keeps it up for a solid minute, wearing this deadpan expression on his face. Idiot!

By the time we finish cleaning up, and big brother’s apparent restlessness, combined with frustration, becomes blatantly clear, I decide to forego watching my regular late-night comedy, and promise to join him at the table for another try at editing.

He’s already set up the computers when I’m done helping with the kitchen, and sag down in my chair with a glass of OJ that I prudently set out of the way before we start reading again.

It goes a lot better now, I’ll admit, the pages flying past and the story slowly becoming even better as sentences are shuffled around, superfluous words removed, and punctuations rearranged.

We manage a solid chapter in the hour that passes, before the night has come to an end–and Knight II informs me of this by insistently stabbing his paw into my neck…time and again. While grabbing his paw before he does serious damage, I shut down my computer and talk with big brother how it went much better now than it did this morning.

It is unlikely that we’ll get more done tomorrow. It will be a school day, and this always put a serious strain on any plans we make. Strange how an hour or two can break up a day and knot up well thought through plans no matter what.
We’ve decided to keep it loose and see what we manage when tomorrow arrives. Who knows, inspiration might strike and we’ll be able to get it all done anyway.

With the younger sibs making their late night snack, and me stealing my habitual treat of a baked potato slice, I chase the dogs out of the courtyard and head up to my cabin. I’m halfway up there, when I remember that the forty pound bag of dog food is empty and that I’ll need to get a new one before I can settle down for my nightly reading.

I grumble about it for a bit, but in the end the dogs are fed and everything is ready for me to just sit down and relax for a bit. I really do need that wind-down time in the evenings, if for no other reason than to get rid of the day’s tensions.

It’ll be busy again tomorrow, I’m sure. It usually is. Still, it’s better than doing nothing, I guess.