from craziness. Not a long day, but a dirty one. The tractor wouldn’t start, so I puttered around the barn in the heat and the dust while Guy soaked himself in Diesel fuel and put the engine back together. It ain’t much, but it did pass the time.
Murph has been in the air for two and a half hours. My child, shooting along through the sky, somewhere over Brazil. How weird. So I’m going to stick some pictures up here. Maybe the house ones. I’ll do that first. While I’m waiting for flickr to come up, may I tell you how much your comments and notes have meant to me? I might as well be pregnant, the eyes are so prone to leaking these days.
So, the house is pretty much finished. Even the schlepping of things from one set of cabinets/drawers/closets to another. At least, out of sight, out of mind. I’ll put up pictures of the clean rooms later – not because I believe anybody could be that interested, but because I need to see them myself.
Putting up the shingles. This is one thing that Les learned doing our job: he bent over, picked up a handful of dirt, held it up to the sky and said, “I’ll never do shingles AGAIN.”
Replacing the old windows and repairing the old shingles.
See? Gaylen is keeping a pretty darn cheery attitude.
Even while he stands underneath a ladder.
Ladders. Like seventy of them stashed everywhere.
And all of this work – days and days of shingling – so that when you pass by in the street, you’ll see –
– ummm – this.
Looks great, huh? Is there a house in there? Really?
And here he is: Les Allen. My HERO of the day!
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