4:59 pm. Cloudy with a small chance of murder. Kitchen cabinets arrived. They’re stowed in the garage, ready for an early morning installation. Eric the Reluctant (carpenter at large) is sanding something—presumably a doorframe—on the back gate of his pickup. He has a Marlboro dangling from his bottom lip, and the glazed look of hard liquor nights in his eyes. Today is the start of week eight, renovation time. The concept of eternity is being played out on my own property with chop saws and nail guns.
Difficult decisions lie ahead. What they will be, no one knows. Meanwhile, there is painting. Lots and lots and lots of painting.
One last word about the road trip. Stopped in the town of San Luis on Sunday, and walked the Stations of the Cross up to the domed church at the top of the mesa. What an unforgettable experience. The bronze sculpture groups, which are 2/3 life size, are beautiful and moving, and seeing them in situ, on the hillside, made them even more so. Would like to go back sometime—Good Friday, maybe—and do it all again.