Alternately whining and gloating- a ceiling re-do

          Ordinarily I consider myself a non-whiner, but the first week in August was an exception. When the ceiling replacement crew didn’t show one afternoon as promised, uh, scheduled, I waited. Waited. Yawned. Drank more coffee because I couldn’t take my usual afternoon nap.

          He’d accidentally broken a window, which I had warned the supervisor about, since the ancient glass was thin and had lost a lot of caulk in the frames. When quitting-time came the day before, I whined inwardly about not getting a nap, drank more coffee, tried to perk up and work at something until ten o’clock. I’d texted the supervisor, who hadn’t heard about the window and didn’t know why the crew didn’t show. 

              The first night without anything in the window but the screen, I jury-rigged a temporary cover of Schwan’s bags and duct tape.

The next morning, as the foreman guided their pickup-hauled, long equipment trailer into the front yard, and the four-person crew bailed out of the cab, I tore off the makeshift cover, wadded it and assigned it to the trash bin. Who knew I could have used it one more night?

                When I (pleasantly) inquired about why they didn’t show up as planned, the foreman told me about another crew at another place where one of the workers quit and left a huge mess that had to be cleaned up, pronto. He had forgotten about the absent glass until I reminded him. They attached the sheetrock—after having to go to Home Depot for “required” insulation, taped and mudded (I had to look up “mudded”) the joints and left it to dry.

                My empty window frame jury-rigging for Wednesday night was a lot simpler: push-pinning a beach towel into the upper frame.

Thursday morning, the third day, they came back carrying the glass, which they seated in place from the outside (sorry, irises, that you got tromped on by the young man) and caulked into the frame, which was how it was originally installed. Dried out lath mortar wasn’t the only thing that had deteriorated over the span of 84 years; so had the window caulking. No wonder the glass rattled in the wind.

On Friday, after telling me he’d be here at 8, they arrived at 9:30. I’d been working in the early-morning, shaded iris-and-yucca bed, and was just before texting the project manager, when the red pickup hauling the long trailer drove up. Again, I teased him, “I thought you told me you’d be here at 8!” And he mumbled something about it being when they told him to begin work.

But, at 1:30, after four days, they called it done, replaced the ceiling fan/light fixture, moved the 4 large pieces of furniture back in place and left. Instead of calling “Gracias,” I hollered “Thank you!” Antonio, Gesus and Luiz waved as they piled into the truck with Alfonzo driving.

What an experience! Now to get the windows washed, the book-and-glass shelves dusted and put back. . . I can’t even think about going through all the books and papers.

How about a nap, first.

This 'n That: Random Thoughts in December

 

 

Fun stuff from the newspaper: Heloise answered a reader’s question about “cute postmarks for our Christmas cards.” And she answered:

                “Here’s a short list to pick from: Evergreen, LA 71333; Garland, NC 28441; Hope, MI 48628; Noel, MO 64854; North Pole, NY 12997; Rudolph, OH 43462; and Star, TX 76880.”

“After my long-in-progress novel manuscript is at the publisher, I’ll deal with the ceiling”.—from a Standard column in December of 2009.

Though A Journey of Choice went live in September of 2010, I immediately began—at the complimentary behest of quite a few readers––a sequel.

Here it is, four years and three months later, and that novel is finished. While it is being re-revised by one group, I have extra time to do something to the living room ceiling. As I mentioned in last week’s column, I’m “workin’ on it.”

The Hot Springs Novel Writers weekly critique sessions have been such fun. Bill White is writing a novel based on a true story. We have just finished re-revising Bud Kenney’s travelogue about walking from Arkansas to New England. HSNW is all business, except for anecdotes here and there about family “doings.”

On the other hand, The Central AR Writers (CAW), a group of three (ahem) mature women and one young sprout (she has two young-adult kiddos), meet monthly, each driving an hour to our complimentary meeting room at the Faulkner County Library. Complimentary, because none of us live in that county. The youngest one always showers us with gifts, so the rest of us have begun bringing little fun things—individual packages of crackers, nuts or candy, maybe a knick-knack. Of course, this month, as it’s December, the gift bags will likely be larger and more full. Goodies aren’t the reason we meet, of course. We continue meeting to critique each other’s current submission. All of us are working on another novel. Though my sequel is finished, this group—meeting monthly—hasn’t yet gotten to the end of it like the Hot Springs group has.

The sequel, Her Face in the Glass, will be edited and published by Alderson Press on a CreateSpace platform. It will not be available in hardback, just softback and as an e-book. We’re looking at sometime early in 2015 as the “live” date.

 A Journey of Choice is still available at Amazon and B&N and iUniverse. Oh, and (like John Grisham’s first book was) from the trunk of my Taurus.

Now, I must get to that ceiling. Where is my phone? I promised Dot that when I climbed the ladder, my phone would be in my pocket. Just in case. Oh, wait. I need more spray glue.

                Speaking of waiting, in liturgical churches, this season of Advent is one of waiting and preparation. A time to realign, if necessary—and it usually is--our priorities, our souls, to take stock of our spiritual health. Two of my writer friends have compiled two different booklets with daily Advent meditations. Those readings will be an aid toward the four-week season preceding Christmas.

May your Advent/Waiting/Preparation season be soulful and rejuvenating.