inordinately proud of myself...

A contractor came over to do 2 repairs in March--improve the insulation under the studio, which he did, and fix the mortar around the basement door. The weather was very wintry and he left the bag of mortar with a promise to come back next week, when the weather was better…the weather didn't get better next week, nor did the fellow contact me.  (Joke:  how do you know the economy is bad?  Your contractor returns your calls!)

ANYWAY, it was a bad problem.  Our otherwise dry basement would get rainwater down the step into the basement.  Calling the contractor would make sense, right? Get out the damn checkbook AGAIN (it was a helluva month for flippin' car repairs…but I can't repair cars, except washing and vacuuming) and watch the zeros pile up.

So I looked at the bag of mortar.  Got a bucket, stick, smooth trowel type thing, read the mixing directions and did what any self-respecting potter should be able to do and fixed the dang thing myself. I think it turned out pretty nicely and I was rather proud of myself and began to dream of all the fine things I could do if I learned masonry…

Later that same day we went walking at East Hill Rail Trail and HOLY CATS when the dog went into the creek to get a drink, on one side of us was a brown heron, the other side a young buck….