Love that yellow!

Spring has sprung here at the cottage and Husband Rudy has been as busy as the Easter bunny!

I must say I'm having a very hard time concentrating on my current novel work-in-progress, the handful of short stories I'm trying to finish up for a new collection hopefully coming out in the fall, and my own garden.

I think the house is breathing a sigh of relief, too. :-)  It's been white since who-knows-when.

Here's the BEFORE photo.  1950s aluminum siding, chalky, flaking paint, two front doors, one leading into the bedroom.  UGH.

Yesterday, three years later.  Primed and ready for color!

More later!

Happy trails,

bobbi c.

One step forward, two steps back. . .

Or maybe that should be TEN steps back.  Although the front of the house is ready for primer and Husband has done magic with hiding where the former second front door used to be (YAY!), other things have slowed down.

It's the amazing disappearing front door!

Since I last wrote, we've had a "spot of bother" as my Brit friends say.  First, during my garden shed re-do, I somehow managed to rip some of my organs and/or perhaps set some kidney stones loose.  The doctors are indecisive.  They suggested aspirin and rest. Riiiiight. 

I'm not sure HOW it happened, but if I had to guess, I'd say it had something to do with the behemoth clawfoot tub, antique wood doors that weigh 50-lbs. each, and my mule-headedness about not bothering Husband when trying to move them around. Yep, that could do it.

Gee, that thing can't be THAT heavy, can it?  I'll just give it a shove and get it outside!

So that project is temporarily on hold while my innards heal.  Hopefully.  Stay tuned, because there's more. . .

 I walked into the shed last week and the STANK  knocked me over.  We've had issues out there before with the ancient plumbing and the fact that some unnamed agent sold the place as a two-bathroom dwelling with nothing more than an toilet and a big hole in the floor out in the cottage.  The problem with cement slabs is that you have no clue what's under them. Surprise, surprise! as Gome would say. 

So.  Long story short.  Crumbling clay pipes.  Sewage from the Big House that flows downhill.  Underneath the cottage.  $1,000 to tap into the city sewer at the street.  Many bijillions of dollars more to get the pipes from the house to the street.

Not to mention the Likely Demolishment of the Garden.

So, maybe it's time to re-assess what I was going to do this spring, and concentrate on plants in pots out back where I KNOW they won't be digging.  Or I hope they don't be digging.  Maybe I'll get more writing done?  I'm a "glass-half-full-of-tequila" kinda gal.

But, if I EVER again speak the words "I want a house nobody else wants," just shoot me, 'K?

Happy trails from Texas!

bobbi c.