Having Another Tim Gunn Moment

   You’d think that after all these years, Davy and I would tire of making our lives harder than necessary. Alas. Some spells cannot be broken.

   Take, for example, our need to patch our chimney stucco and replace rotting balcony timbers. Taking into consideration our ages, wouldn’t you suggest we hire the entire job out, and save our fragile, ancient bodies from strain and ruin?

   Not us. Wouldn’t it be fun to help with the work, we thought. Think what we’d learn. Consider the money we’d save! What a terrific way to get exercise without actually exercising! Two weeks later, the job’s still nearly done.
   We hired our favorite team, Cris and Jeff, a married couple we assumed were maybe in their 30s, but who’re actually, we discovered, in their late 40s and beyond. (That’s all I’m saying.)
   In the beginning, everything went swimmingly, until . . .
   Why not stop a moment and consider the middle picture on your left, the one with the white arrow Photoshopped over the horizontal beam. (Click to enlarge.)

   That heavy beam you see replaces a truly rotten beam that had resembled a child’s gum ridge immediately after a molar has fallen out. Nasty. The trick of the day was not the dismantling of the old beam, for with two men wielding Dewalt and Black Bull destruction-derby toys, the feat was accomplished in mere hours. No, the trick of the day was inserting the new beam in the old one’s place, without removing any of those other horizontal and vertical pieces of wood, which were supported in place through this whole process by a couple of jacked-up two-by-fours.

   First, Davy suggested we all have a beer, because, after all, it was warm out. The three of us just stared at him, and he changed his mind.
   Then the four of us stood around figuring out how we were going to fit the beam into the maze of supporting and decorative boards. More honestly, it was Davy and Jeff talking it over, and Cristine and I trying to save them from themselves. Eventually, with all four of us doing something helpful, which sometimes meant just being quiet, we made it work. We hoisted, nudged, wove, and noodled the beam into place, much like a surgeon might do when forced to replace a cheekbone through an ear canal.
   Anyway, it got done and painted, and we’re all happy as clams and friends for life. After all, we did in many little ways, save each others’ lives and the lives of those precious to us.
   So, do you like the house’s new color addition? Remember, the house was completely sunshine-tan. We’re adding the sage green a bit at a time so we don’t overdo. We have some arched windows, and we don’t want them to look like eyebrows begging for a smile to be painted just below.
   And the bottom picture on the left is our new chandelier, or is it just a hanging light because it doesn’t have a bunch of crystal? I forgot to read the box. Hanging the light evoked some make-it-work thinking. We had Jason, our very diplomatic electrician out for the event. He balanced atop his ladder throughout Davy’s and my squirmish about whether to swag such a heavy light to center it over the dining room table, or to just move the dining room table, even though doing so would put diners up against the windows. Jason won! He drilled a new hole in the ceiling and now everything’s perfect, especially the light. Yay!!!
A Little Local Color

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   Last Saturday morning we stopped by San Juan Lanes for a world-class, dive breakfast at their Stork’s Restaurant and Lounge. (I stole the flicker link; I have no idea who the girl is.)
   Stork’s has like the best fish-and-chips, and won a top-four rating in some national fish-and-chips contest, which is kind of suspect in the first place, if you ask me. Breakfast was delish, and we didn’t eat again until the next day. The picture on the right shows a three-year-old boy bowling with his bowling-ball slide. He picked the ball out of the return, carried it over to the slide, gave it a shove, and walked back to the return. His mom adjusted the slide depending on the results, which the kid never even watched.

   The other picture is in our computer store, Compumatter, which had me from the get-go when we moved up here by fixing my computer for free. What I love about this pic is that it shows one of Computmatter’s fully-functioning computers, which are strung about sans box. I cannot explain how jealous I felt when I saw this. I must remind myself that unboxed computer-parts, slung from the ceiling like a model airplanes, no matter how darling or irreverent, will not go with my décor. Alas.

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   Near the end of August we went to one of Anacortes’s free concerts in Cap Sante Marina and Park. We LOVED it!!! They had Green Tangerine, who do Beatles songs (does that date me?????), and, oh cripes, there’s nothing like the whole damn town camped out in crayon-colored umbrella chairs rising to their feet and singing along to “Hey Jude”. Life doesn’t get any better than that! Old people, kids, the wheel-chair bound, dogs. Wowzer! I LOVE Americana!!!!

Across Deception Pass Bridge

   In early August we went out for lunch with Mary and Jack Moeller, who’re from Coupeville on Whidbey Island. I met Mary in my Wednesday writing group. She is such a kick. The moment she described the sound of a falling tree branch as, “You know how a head sounds when it hits the ground?”, I knew I wanted to listen to her forever! Jack’s much quieter, but just as witty. He’s an engineer-type, so he’s got a lot of stories about near failures. (Generally speaking, engineers have this solid, steady veneer, but deep down they’re always trying to devise things that shouldn’t be devised. I know. Davy has an engineering degree.)
   Sorry about the sign, which might offend some. It’s on the public-bathroom doors in the barn at the end of Coupeville’s pier. I still haven't shaken my junior-high-level humor.
   We also had a terrific time with the Sandy and Hank Siebert of Clinton, on Whidbey Island, but I can’t find the pictures. The Sieberts and the Wilshins sit in totally opposite corners, politically speaking, and we love to talk about it without yelling, calling names, running off in a huff, or shooting each other. It must be amazing to watch!
The Last Two

   I’ve said it before, and it’s worth repeating. Deer own the place up here. (Chalk it up to them acquiring a feline gene somewhere along the line.) You can go outside and tell the deer not to eat your weeping cherry tree, and it will correct you with a glib, “But it’s my weeping cherry tree.”
   The lower picture didn’t quite capture what I wanted you to see, but like most of the view shots up here, you have to be here to get the full meaning. Anyway, on this particular morning, rain clouds held up the sky and a thick fog layer frosted the Sound. All that was left was a peeping-tom’s mid-mountain view of Lopez and Decatur Islands. Even hidden, the world up here’s so gorgeous!