The wind was howling through the ‘Ville late last week and the temperature had dropped, so we hunkered down for a couple of days. On our coffee walk Saturday morning, as the wind blew around us, Jen reminded me that Finley had asked to fly a kite a few weeks ago—late in the day, after I’d put a full 8 hours in and without the energy to take her up on it. When we got home, we ate breakfast and then walked across the street to the church parking lot and put up her butterfly kite, one Aunt Renie got her for a birthday a few years back. It flew really well until a couple of gusts brought it down, and the fiberglas rods punched through the ends of the pockets in the wings. I figured we needed the Big Boy so I ran back to the house and brought out my beach kite, the heavy-duty beast I bought 20+ years ago that has been on every beach vacation we’ve taken. I’ve dunked it in the Atlantic, lost it in dunes, and tangled it in trees. It’s been field-patched multiple times, the bridle has been replaced twice (three)? times and it’s been through two different tails. But it always leaps into the air and stays there. Saturday was no different: it stayed aloft with no problem, and for a short while that morning the world went quiet and we watched it ripple and dance in the blue sky above.
Faced with the latest news reports which all claim vaccination rates are dropping, we’re being pragmatic about the summer of 2021. I’ve been eyeing the situation in India and thinking that we’re headed for the same blowback here: lots of people wrongly assuming the worst is over, skipping their vaccination (or simply not getting one, because…tracking chips?) and use going maskless figuring it’s all over. The alarmist in me is trying to keep from getting too alarmist but I feel like shit is going to go down before it all gets better, and I’d like to get the three of us immunized before America goes full Day of the Dead.
So, we’re making more improvements at the Lockardugan Estate, figuring we’re stuck in here for another year. Jen will be doing big reveals later and I’ll share photos then, but she’s got some exciting plans that I’ve already begun work on. This weekend was focused mainly on getting the truck running so that I could go on a run for oversized supplies, and then getting started. It’s been amazing what I can fit in, on, and behind the CR-V with nothing but a roof rack, trailer hitch, and ratchet straps, but 4×8′ sheets of plywood don’t fit inside and I can’t drive with the hatch open. So the Scout gets pressed into service for the big stuff.
Back in the fall we had an electrician come out and put a switch and a wire in on the front porch for a ceiling fan, which was good! We need a fan out there. But he had to cut through the odd 1950’s era drywall that we inherited to run the wiring, which meant the walls had some gnarly holes that needed patching. 376 applications of drywall mud later, I was able to feather out the patches, paint them, and call the walls done. The fan we ordered is “in transit” somewhere between there and here, which means it’s probably sitting in a container at the bottom of the Ever Given. We bought a simple three-blade white fan with no light, which is apparently very rare and expensive; the more lights and faux Victorian bullshit you decorate a fan with, the cheaper it gets. But it’ll look great once it goes in, and porch season is almost upon us.