state of the union

I haven't felt real chatty this summer. The summer study has focused on the role of conflict in life and life has obliged by sending lots of conflict life lessons upon which to practice. Conflict may be a must-have for a good story, but I continue to think it's overrated in one's own life.

I could be wrong.

Meanwhile, out in the garden, I've harvested the two volunteer melons. One turned out to be a cantaloupe, the other, a French market melon of some sort I'd bought a while back. I never saw either vine or melon when I planted them two years ago. It either stealth-bloomed and ripened, or that is one long germination period!

Unfortunately, it wasn't very good. I picked it too early, worried about the cracks in the rind, and it did not continue ripening off the vine. It was pretty, though.

The cantaloupe was delicious.

As usual, the kitchen is infested with tomatoes. They sit on every surface, reproachfully. The cucumbers are approaching double digits outside. I'll have to bring them in today. Is it possible to make marinara sauce and cucumber vichyssoise at the same time?! One long day in the kitchen. . . .

Luckily, the king is on progress today, so I can work on the alto parts to Mozart's Requiem to my heart's content! September 11th we will mark the 10th anniversary of the death of so many that day 10 years ago, with a memorial singing of that work. It is a beautiful piece, which weaves its way into the warp and weft of your soul, somehow. I don't worry too much about which bits Mozart wrote, as opposed to other bits cobbled in by pinch-hitters after he died. But I can imagine him [Mozart] being overcome to tears by the beauty of Lacrimosa. . . . .

Here it is - although you have to listen through the Confutatis before you get to it. You'll know when you get to it. Never fear. But first, a little conflict. . . .

storm

In the words of the song - Storm - "there's a big storm comin'. . . ."

We watched it from under the porte cochère.

Luther was unfazed by the thunder and lightning, which was a relief after his scare the day before yesterday by a crack and a clap of thunder that came out of nowhere. . . . Very alarming. I have been hoping that he will not develop a fear of thunder and lightning, though. To that end, we do not react to the thunder or lightning, and did not respond to his fright the day before yesterday by trying to 'comfort' him. Luther settled down and all was well.

I have seen - and heard - of so many dogs that become intractable during thunderstorms (or fireworks), with devastating results. One former neighbor had an elaborate system worked out, involving as many people as they could enlist, to ensure that their dog was immediately visited in the event of an unexpected thunderstorm. So long as there was a person there - any person - apparently she'd be fine. No person, however, and she would start in on the woodwork, ripping off all the baseboards, windowsills and even the windows.

I don't know whether we've done something right in how we've handled it with Luther, or whether we've just been lucky in Luther's temperament. Maybe a little of both. But we did start early! I recall now, that the day - and day after - Luther arrived, I made sure I was home with him during the Blue Angels annual show here in Annapolis. I sat next to his crate with him, with a book, and read during the whole thing. He looked up when the loud jets first screamed over the house, but eventually settled back down for his nap.

Boy did it feel good to "clear the air"! Nothing does that quite like a storm.

Music. Walter Reed.

My latest, favorite song: Walter Reed by Michael Penn.

Yep, Sean's brother.

I'd never heard of him before, but heard this song on a rerun of House last night and tracked it down. Now I can't get it out of my head. Be advised.

[It's worth it.]

snow and frosting

What's wrong with this picture?

Well, after the snow from last week went bye-bye (while I was in warmer climes m'self) I discovered yesterday that the front passenger wheel (which I thought was just hidden behind a mound of snow) was actually flat.

Real flat.

My aging vehicle took a trip via flat-bed to the local tire store. There, I learned that tires for my aging darling are not easy to come by. He now sports a new set of Yokahama's [Yoka-who's?!] as the best tires I was able easily to find in stock and not on special order and available in a month. Maybe. Yippee!






Meanwhile, this morning brought us more snow. And sun! If sun during rain is a sun shower, is sun during snow a sunfall? I like it: sunfall.

It's my birthday and it feels like Abba has sent some frosting for my cake. Very nice indeed. Thank you!

Here (below) is the song for the day - my new favorite. [Please ignore the very strange dancing woman in the hat] By the way, this is the same group I discovered when I was looking for the Christmas song "I Saw Three Ships" and posted here. Turns out that the guitarist is the same man who founded of Deep Purple (of Smoke on the Water fame). Ritchie Blackmore. I am not making this up.

Well, whatever. It's a beautiful song. Perfect for the day!

tuesday - after noon

Watch out. You've got me on a music kick now.

After Monday, Monday what else but Tuesday Afternoon? Moody Blues. . . . an old favorite.


Here's a picture I didn't post yesterday. Grand Avenue. The view off the left side of the house. This, however, is from down the stream, looking up. The house is at the top of the hill. I don't know if you'll be able to see the house (after it's built) from this far down in the woods. I rather hope not. . . .

Let's see now. Update. Yesterday, we went back and forth with the engineer, who (because I keep asking for the final numbers) apparently was preparing to "transfer the new numbers onto the last architectural foundation plan" just as he'd done for Tom-builder. Second, he was going to review the first floor plan and have that "ready for pick up" that afternoon. 3rd, should this be billed to the stake-out portion of the program or did we want to start a new billing category?

Wha?!

Email back.

Dear engineer-Dan:

One: I want a copy of what you've already given Tom-builder, not for you to do the work all over again, for me.

Two, I don't want you to do a first floor review (or any resulting document), I want you to tell me what the final numbers were (see 'One', above - and if you'd given this to me when you gave it to Tom-builder maybe we wouldn't be going through this right now? Well, maybe we would. . . .) Two: I want you to tell me (based on what numbers you used - and you know what numbers they are - see 'One' - and can I please have a copy?!) whether a 1st floor plan review will be necessary. NOT to do a 1st floor review, in order to see if it's necessary.

As to three. . . .

Hoo buoy. . . .

The king got the call back. Right. Much better to talk to a man. I used ALL CAPS on one word in the email. "That's shouting," the king advised. Maybe I scared 'im. Didn't mean to!

The upshot: the house was initially staked based on engineer-Dan's first set of numbers, which were some 6 inches wider in the back than in the front. (the mistake that that king found).

I'm not sure how that translated to the additional stakes Tom-builder put in, having been given new numbers by engineer-Dan.

Sometime after getting my email (and before returning the call to the king) engineer-Dan met up with Tom-builder ("On my lunch hour - you won't be billed for this," engineer-Dan volunteered) at the greenwood to assess the extent of the, um, foul-up.

Tom-builder wants the corners of the building to be "pinned" by the engineers, since he dug to wrong numbers and it will be hard to see where changes need to be made. He says he can take care of any first floor alterations (which are now said to be minimal) without "expert" "assistance".

(I'm so sorry. I just had to put those two words into their own, separate, little 'scare-quote' jacket. . . . )

sigh.

Does everyone go through stuff like this?

The hardest part is that I really do like all the people involved. All these mistakes and miscues and miscommunications just seem like a joke.

Until you have to go through it, and be billed for it on an hourly basis. Then it's not quite so funny.

Ok then: we're just going to have to negotiate the hourly rate for miscommunications, jumping the gun, and do-overs. . . . That's clear. And that'll help.

I look forward to the day when I can look back and say:

"Remember when we had all those different sets of numbers and no one knew if the house was going to be bigger? smaller? or maybe the same size as the house we [thought we'd] designed? ha! ha! ha! That was a good one, eh?! Ah, the good old days. . . ."

monday, monday. . . .

Just a reminder of why we call it the greenwood, even in the winter. . . .












And here, look at this! So-far evergreen ferns! They stay pretty much evergreen through the winter down at the stream.

No clue what this week will hold. We're hoping to see CONCRETE, but we're still perplexed about the hole. . . .

The engineer has not yet responded as to what the final house dimension numbers were, and so we're waiting on that (and a copy of the final revised foundation plan). And at some point, I imagine Tom-builder will let us know what his plans are for the upcoming week.

As for us, we had a glorious Thanksgiving day - here's a picture of the little princess pea to prove it, taken on that day, outside, and she was not shivering at all in a short-sleeved party dress. Kissing a sugar maple leaf. . .

So - we shall see, shall we?

Here's hoping - and praying - for the best.


. . . ok. . . . ok! I want to hear it, too.


Here we go: the Mamas & the Papas.