Weak #1

First week: not stellar. 

We have a hole (thanks Jose and Arturo!) for the footing that will support the new staircase and, incidentally, the center of the house. The old staircase is gone, as is the wall between the dining room and kitchen. the place seems larger, of course, and I'm sure a lot of ordering/planning/scheduling happened in the background, but we haven't had a crew more than 3 on the property yet and I'm hoping that changes soon.

We had so much pent up energy for the project we assumed the contracting crew did too. But I suppose it is more reasonable to understand that a project like this will ramp up. I kinda want to grab a hammer and get to it, but I'll keeping pounding on the keyboard trying to get this draft out. Perhaps the two are related. Wouldn't be the first time my work and life were moving on invisible but parallel tracks. In those cases, I only discovered after the fact, and perhaps that will be the case here as well.

Steve and I continue to go back and forth over the contract. The latest notion is that "I want my cake and to eat it to," which i confess I found a bit unfair, even if it might have been made in half jest ("kidding on the square," Al Franken calls it). I'm trying, perhaps futilely, to build a time plus materials/not to exceed contract that includes both an incentive fee for them to come in under budget, but also some enforceable control on overages. Steve's first draft basically said the budget was a guide only, and provided no guarantees. That seemed too much risk for me./ I want to share the risk and share the reward. He, justifiably, wants to protect himself. I believe we can find a middle ground, but in so doing, the number keeps going up. It's making my brain hurt, but I'm going to see it through. the annuls of construction are littered with the remains of unprotected homeowners. Mikey Holmes taught me that (;-))

Also, in a fit of I-don't-know-what, I bought a scooter on Saturday. Funny money impulse buy. I hope it doesn't kill me. If it does, this blog is done and everyone should know that Elicia and Charlie are the two most important, beautiful things that ever happened to my life (Just thought I'd put that down in print somewhere, in case).

The scooter's cool, though. Comes in this week.

Groundbreaking News.

Dreams pass into the reality of action. From the actions stems the dream again; and this interdependence produces the highest form of living. -Anais Nin, (1903-1977)

In my mind, this was a momentous day. In my mind, the day workmen began rebuilding would be a flurry of activity, a cacophonous post-modern symphony of sloshing portapotties, grinding hydraulics, crashing metal dumpsters, screaming men's voices in Spanish and English, bleeping cell phones, attacking hammers and squealing crowbars as a dozen or more workers descended on Casita Moreno in a flurry of industry and creative destruction. In my mind, this day would be the release of all the pent up frustration, twisting worry, and force of will it took to get here, to keep family spirits high and emotional keels even, to wring sufficient dollars from reluctant Allstate (still in process), to believe that this day would come. In my mind, today the unstoppable force of man's desire to build would overwhelm the unmovable object of charred entropy on Moreno Drive and yield the beginnings of a shiny new life.

Instead, we got Jose and Alberto digging a hole. A modest hole, granted, perhaps even a sincere hole. In fact, as I consider it, a beautiful hole. But on this, the first day of new life for Casita Moreno, we got two guys with shovels.

They seem to have brought a white microwave oven which they have put beneath my house. This is a mystery I choose not to solve. I have done so poorly so far.