Christmas In The Neighborhood

 The sun came out this afternoon so I took a walk around the block and noticed (how could I not?) the Christmas decorations of one of the neighbors.  I especially like the pyramid of penguins on the porch.

I made another bowl of cranberry-pineapple relish, this time with strawberry jello.  Last time I used cherry which I thought overpowered the taste of the cranberries.  I had a little dish of this batch and think that it's more cranberry-y.  I'll have to eat more to be absolutely certain.

I also made a pan of finger Jello for LC and OJ but didn't take its picture because it's just a slab of orange in a dish.  I'll cut it up and deliver it one day this weekend.

Sunset tonight was a good one.  Sunsets are better with clouds because the light reflects off them and turns the whole world orange-y pink.  It doesn't last long but I was glad to capture it.

After supper I cast on yet another cast sock toe cover.  I got this yarn from DD and her family when I broke my ankle four years ago and made a cast sock with it so it's time to resurrect it and go again.  There'll be some young person who will love the sparkle (there's a strand of shiny running through it) and the purple.

 

03 December--Barbara Malcolm, The Seaview.

Chapter 19

            Silas and Edward started replacing the walls that had needed to be torn out with fresh wallboard from the container as soon as Mr. Gomez had cleared it.  The sheets of plywood came in handy replacing the spongy floors.  Edward ended up most days helping clear the supplies and Silas alone wielded the hammer.  I was still helping Iggy as he slowly worked his way around the kitchen.  Once Silas had the wallboard up in my apartment, except for the bathroom which needed to wait for the plumbing, and ready for paint, and had caught up to us in the kitchen, Iggy broke off and moved upstairs to do the wiring there.

            He said, "Mrs. Rose, it is going to take me a couple more weeks to get the kitchen wired.  You cannot have Silas standing around straightening nails and pestering 'Nando, it is a waste of his time and your money.  I can wire those bedrooms, the baths, and the hall in a few days and then he will have plenty to keep him busy."  He and Silas convinced me that it would be okay for the younger man to work along with Iggy, like an apprentice, and that would move the work along too.

            Silas introduced me to Luke and Stanley.  They were looking for work, so I hired them to stand on ladders in the blazing sun scraping the rest of the outside of the hotel.   Stanley gave me his seat the first time I went to Johnno's for the jump-up and we had danced a few times.  I remembered seeing Luke there too.  They set up an old boombox radio on the roof out of Zeke’s way and blared their music as they bopped on their ladders and scraped away, singing along at the tops of their voices.  Zeke added his voice too.  It was a little like being trapped inside the music when they got rocking, but I began to like their music and by the end of the week I could sing along.

           

            Will emailed me nearly every day with questions about how the work was progressing and how could I be certain that the men I had hired were honest and not taking me for a financial ride.

            Work is continuing, every day, I wrote to him.  As fast as Mr. Gomez, the Custom Agent clears things (and he is not fast, not at all) Silas and Iggy use them.  Luke and Stanley are bopping along on the outside scraping off the old paint, Zeke is carefully taking off the roof tiles so we can resell them, and with any luck Mr. Gomez will clear the primer, paint, pans, and brushes just as they're ready to use them.  Things are going well. 

            I knew that there was really no way to reassure him, so I invited him and Elizabeth to come down in a month or so, once the wiring and plumbing were done.  I'm having a BYOP party, I wrote in my email, and you're the guest of honor.  Will emailed back almost immediately asking if a BYOP party was some special island tradition.  I answered that it meant Bring Your Own Paintbrush, and that I would save him the second floor gallery railing to paint since I knew how much he liked standing on a shaky ladder in the blazing sun.  I promised them ocean breezes and afternoons off to go scuba diving.  He said they would check their calendars and get back to me.

            I knew Marie was already saving for airfare to come and visit because I had had to talk a blue streak to get her not to come too soon.  "There's no place for you to sleep if you come now, honey," I said.  "You can't afford your own room and there is nowhere for you to sleep in my studio.  I'll gladly welcome you once the walls and floors are intact.  Bring your work clothes; I'll provide paint brushes and rollers, and let you have your way with color."

            Hearing her excited squeal all those miles away, I was reminded of my creative daughter's enthusiasms and back-pedaled a bit.  "Actually I have a plan, a good one, I think.  I'll start five different colors in the lobby; take them up the stairs and into the hall.  At each bedroom door I want to split off one color and paint each room a separate color.  Each of the bathrooms will share two colors, sea green and white."

            The excitement and promise of ten days on a Caribbean island, even if her mother was up front about her plan to work her hard, made Marie nearly babble with excitement.  "Call me as soon as you know when you'll need me.  I've already told my boss that I'll be gone for at least ten days.  Do you think that will be enough?  I could quit..."

            "No!"  I nearly shouted into the phone.  "I will not have you quitting your job, not in this dicey economy.  Ten days will be quite enough for painting.  It's not such a big hotel, only four bedrooms and my little apartment in the back."

            Both my son and daughter always ended our conversations with the same request, "send pictures."

            I ended my next email with a lie, I keep sending pictures of our progress.  Aren't you getting them?  But I hadn't sent any yet.  The place still looked like a bombed-out shell and I wanted to get a few walls up before I opened myself up for even more worried calls and emails from Will.

Today's toss was Mom's wedding dress.  Why have I been keeping it?  I do not know.  It's 70 years old and was worn once.  I didn't even look at it I just carried the box out to the car.  Maybe some tiny bride will love it.

Words came a little easier in today's prompt writing.  Whew.  I have no clue what was different today from yesterday except that I could think of something to write today, yesterday not so much.

--Barbara