July 19, 2011

5:22 p.m.

Even on a hot day like this, the house stays coolish downstairs. Everything is swollen at this time of year: doors, cabinets, the peeling paint on the ceiling, my feet. Karl and I left work a little early so he could stop at the scrapyard for something, and I stayed in the car trying to nap. It was well over 90 degrees in there and the air was still. Last Sunday I got heat sick from doing yard work too late into the morning, and was incapacitated for a few hours. Teller came on Sunday about the time I was feeling better, but I wouldn't let him go out and mow in the heat. He came back Monday and mowed everything I hadn't done on Saturday. It takes a few hours. We have other fun togetherness projects planned, like breaking out the cast-iron waste pipe in the basement that comes from the unusable upstairs bathroom. This will be in prep, of course, for replumbing that bathroom, and none too soon. I wake up one to two hours before I have to get up, nearly every morning, having to pee like mad, and having to weigh the inconvenience of getting up and coming downstairs against the discomfort of having to pee for the rest of the time. A girl could use another toilet.

Anyway, old cast iron like this, Karl tells me, will break into very manageable pieces with a three-pound hammer. One makes a cut just inside one of the suspending brackets (using a SawsAll) and breaks enough off on the removal side to cap that end so that waste water from the other direction (kitchen and downstairs bath) doesn't overrun and escape out the new hole. Then, hammer away. I suspect ear protection and work gloves will be in order. K is theorizing that the vertical pipes coming down from sink, toilet and bathtub might be in good enough shape to still use. That would save tons of time and work, as we wouldn't have to break into wall and ceiling in the room below. I'm kind of excited about this.

Not that I don't have miles of other things to do, but it would be nice to get that accomplished this year.

Most every day is hot like this right now. Anything I want to do outside must be done very early or in the early evening. This morning I woke at 4:30 (having to pee, which is when I got the great idea to bust that pipe out) and by a quarter to five I was running on South Road, which is a gorgeous, wide, paved street that runs along a restored farm. It was barely light; the moon was high and bright; mist in the fields, a horse stirring in a barn, birds singing like mad. The air was cool and no bugs or traffic. I'm not really big on getting up at 4:30, but I'm glad I did it today. I did a relatively easy mile and a half. It shouldn't be such a surprise that it's not light by 5am any more... seems it was, just a couple of weeks ago... but the shortening of days always seems to come faster than their lengthening in Spring. While I can, I'll try to take advantage of these early hours.

Teller and I have stepped up to visiting maybe two or three times a week. I have yet to go and meet his roommate and his friends (I expect they will seem like kids... some are younger than he is, even) but we'll do that soon. The buddhist, the observer, the storyteller in me sits back and watches each of us, how we react to each other, how we deal with powerful emotions and changes, how our respective life experiences have shaped our expectations or lack thereof. I sent Rose a long email with all my thoughts, clear and confusing, and she has yet to respond but I'm looking forward to her take on it all. I don't know how this will unfold in future but I will say it's nice to be adored. I haven't felt like a million bucks in ever so long. Life is so interesting. Story-worthy. I love a good book so much; books have enriched and transformed my world so many times. I always hope my life will read like a book people can't put down. And right now, I'm looking forward to every page.

I am due to make dinner momentarily, and catch up on some sleep. More house and love as it happens, or shortly thereafter.