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A very common feature of the old Craftsman bungalows is the bookcase colonnade. It made a nice transition from the front parlor to the rest of the house, defining the room without using a solid wall.
Since Sábado wants to be a real bungalow when she grows up, she needed to have a real colonnade, complete with overhead beam, side beams, and leaded glass doors.
So I built one.
Here it is
First order of business was the overhead beam. I thought it needed a carving and the house needed kind of a motto, so I chose a lyric from an Irish folk song.
The letters are hand carved with chisels in a font that I thought looked kind of "Craftsmany."
I hired a great local craftsman named Paul Bloomquist to do the "double house" leaded glass for the doors. He did a wonderful job. You can't see it in the photos, but the glass itself is antique style, with very subtle imperfections and a few little bubbles.
Living alone in the country means never having to say "Would somebody else please do my laundry for me?" ... and since I'm off the grid, I use some low-tech solar/wind technology for drying.
Also known as a clothesline.
But being a semi-rugged manly man, I couldn't be using some girly clothespin bag...
...so I found me a heavy canvas "Drywaller's bag." Perfect for the job, and it keeps my masculinity intact.
It came with a ridiculously short belt.. obviously made for a (ahem) younger drywaller, so I just belted it to basket.
Bathroom cleaning, country style
Rural Mailbox Incident
This is the view when Molly and I walk down to get the mail. Beautiful pasture across the road, and the mountains of Mexico in the distance.
Unfortunately, a young local driver was unduly distracted by the scenery, or his cell phone, or (most likely) a few adult beverages one Friday night, when he came around the S curve much too fast and...
He took out the mailbox, post and all.
That tiny black spot in the distance is the actual box, 50 feet into the field.
I went to the lumber yard for a new post, grumbling to all who would listen about "damn drunks," but the next day, a very polite and nervous young man came to my door to apologize and offer to pay for the damage. He said he just came around the corner entirely too fast, and was very sorry.
Took a lot of guts to make the long walk up my drive (for some reason he parked on the street; maybe it was his mom waiting for him to make the walk of shame) and face who-knows-what kind of rural psychopath lived in that little green house way off the road, so I let him off the hook and told him I was just glad he came by. Restored my faith in human beings.
The Rural Deer Incident
This one happened in Missouri, when granddaughter Macey and I went back for the annual Rodeo Ride, and the non-drunk driver was Yours Truly.
What happens when you hit a deer at 55 MPH
We were on a dark two-lane road in the middle of nowhere, heading to my cousins' house from the Omaha airport at about 1:00 AM. Suddenly there was Bambi in full leap, right in front of us and Bam! He put the Bam in Bambi.
No injuries except the poor deer, and the car hung in there the rest of the way and all the way back to the airport a few days later. The rental agent declined my offer to walk around the car looking for dings and scratches.
Sadee's annual cool-down bath
In the guest room where I was staying, I found a picture of a house that belonged to cousin Joy's grandparents in 1924. Did a double-take, because it looked just like my house!
The Big Beautiful Wall
Back at my house, my only crop so far is two tomato plants, which are (hopefully) protected from gophers by a wire basket underground, but were getting eaten by some illegal alien rabbits above ground. So I Trumped 'em!
Now if I could just get the rabbits to pay for the wall...
That's the news from Lake Morena for now. I went and turned another year older, although I'm not sure about good friend Sherryl's assessment:
Adios for now from Sábado, where it's always 5 o'clock.