When one door won’t close and another door won’t open, it’s time to replace both of them, and that’s what happened. After 15 months on the property phase one of my renovation plan is complete. I have secured the perimeter.
This was supposed to take me four months. But the costs were higher than expected (which you’d know if you read the last entry) and my life is a balance of many things at once.
Because I can get away with it.
The fencing is fixed, the exterior doors have been replaced, the most troublesome windows have been summer-proofed and the swamp cooler has been brought back from the dead.
One of those doors is open now, because it is inexplicably 70 degrees in late May.
My grandfather, who built the Arizona room that comprises the rear portion of the house, saw fit to reinforce the bottom door jamb with galvanized fence tubing. Which is very innovative if you never want to replace the door. But if you do, the door guy earns his fee by spending two hours cutting the thing away with a grinder.
Thanks Grandpa. (I say that a lot when working on the house – in that tone.)
My girlfriend was in town last weekend, so word count stopped at 3500, mostly Jack and writer’s group.
So we have landed at the Duck and Decanter at 1651 E Camelback – basically across the street. That worked well last week. Sandwiches aren’t the same as fried calamari, and serving beer is not the same as being a bar, but we had a quiet table, good light, food and beer. I’ve been worse.
Of the many things that Cheryl and I did over the weekend, what was most interesting is what we did not manage to do. We drove north on Monday wit the intent to hike the fabled West Fork of Oak Creek. (Yes, this is in my book: Five Star Hikes Flagstaff and Sedona, along with every other relevant hiking guide ever printed.)
We drove north, however into dark, gathering clouds and plummeting temperatures.
Consequently, I can report that the Colt Grill in downtown Cottonwood is an excellent place for a burger and beer and maybe a flight of whiskey samples, and, unlike the Oak Creek trail, we were not getting hailed upon while we enjoyed it.
If I have a point here, it’s that success, or just getting away with it, is determined as much by how well you recover from mistakes as how well you avoid them.
Sure, I could’ve checked the weather first. But if I’m honest with myself, and by extension you, I would have gone anyway.
But Cheryl might have brought different shoes.
Now we know.