Tunnel Vision

("I See The Light," The Five Americans, 1966)

Mike is on the downhill run now, and I'm beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel, too.  He laid the last of the boards yesterday on a job I'm sure he (and I) thought would never end.  There are just a few details to finish today, and then he can pack up his tools and move on.  The deck is not only beautiful, it is safe!  He has said any number of times, "I don't know how anyone wasn't hurt," the wood was that bad.  Mike had planned to get at least some of the boards stained, but we're due for more wet weather, so maybe that will have to wait until another time.

Not used to having anyone here day after day, one of the things I've had to remember is not to use my big bathroom.  I'm not sure if it had been planned, but there is a window in there that is directly across from the porcelain throne and, as nice as it is to look out, anyone on the deck can see in.  If I'd forgotten, all I could do would be to smile and wave.  The guest bathroom has no windows. 

Florence and Dan came yesterday to pick out usable lumber for a project she has in mind.  They came, like the Magi, bearing the gift of cookies from their housemate, George.  I don't bake for the Kids anymore, so these were the first taste of Christmas for me.  Florence told me, "These are not dinner."  She was wrong.

I had told Mike when he first started that the best (and the worst) advertising is word of mouth.  Camille already has some work lined up for him, and Florence and Dan, after seeing and walking (safely!) on the deck, asked him if he would work down in Amador county.  I feel like a proud mama.

Since the deck still has to be stained, I cannot put the furniture back yet (why move it twice?), but I can see daylight now.

Christmas is rushing toward me like a freight train.  Wish me luck!