Working Man

Clay's day got a little later start than he'd planned so I had plenty of time to make the spaghetti sauce before he got here.  A rest is always in order after the long drive so we started to play catch up; it's been quite a while between visits.  Clay brought me a souvenier coffee mug from his last NASCAR trip.  That's become almost a tradition now when he travels, and I love it.  I explained that I needed his help with the silkie pen and why and he decided to take on that job before we unloaded the rounds of wood he'd brought.

It's a good thing we did (and "we" is used loosely here), because not only was there shoveling to do, the door to the Taj pretty much disintegrated.  Thanks to Steve's packrat tendencies, there is always plenty of leftover stuff from previous projects and Clay was able to find a piece of heavy plywood that needed just a little resizing.  Uh huh.  Used to working with modern power tools, it was a bit of a challenge to go back to an old-school handsaw (he found three).  My contribution was to stand on one end to steady the board and give encouragement.  That kind of hand work can't be rushed and it was nearly sundown when he finished.  He had calculated the size perfectly for the opening in the Taj, but there wasn't time to attach it.  There is a way to keep it shut, though, so no worries.

I put the kids to bed while the pasta cooked and the sauce heated.  The chickens had to spend another night in the big coop.  The plan had been to move them after dark, but Clay and I got to talking during and after dinner and he didn't leave until late.  He'd done the work and I was tired.  Since there hadn't been time to unload the firewood, he moved the trailer over out of the way by the woodpile and left it.  That's a good excuse to come back.

Clay was probably singing Merle Haggard's "Workin' Man Blues" (1969) on his drive home.  I sure appreciate the job he did and his company always.  He really racked up the Good Son points, for sure.