Getting the porch painted

You wouldn't think such a small job would turn into such a big damn deal, but when you and the painter don't speak the same language, it does. Turns out my painter cannot find the right wood to replace some rotting boards. This house is old and apparently the narrow boards aren't available anymore. But Arturo, my painter, had to talk to the Argentinian woman next door and explain the problem. But she was busy watching her favorite TV show and so I didn't know of the problem until nine o'clock, and the painters are long gone.

I'm sure Arturo will be back as I still owe him $150. He is a sweet guy and a heck of a painter. He does excellent work. But I find it difficult to get ANYTHING else done while he and his men are here. I can't leave because there are always questions (in Spanish and lots of hand-gesturing and sometimes pictures).

However, Arturo calls me "Carolina," pronounced kah-ro-LEE-na, which I rather like.

The Swainson's thrush was in my yard today. I woke up hearing him outside the window. I got a long, leisurely look at him, too, as he sat on a branch and sang, so I was able to positively confirm the sighting. I saw another new bird today, too, but I can't positively I.D. it. I've narrowed it down to a couple of flycatchers, probably the least flycatcher, but all those teeny gray birds look alike!

And I wrote. Good writing day. Book is still going well and I'm about halfway done. I don't hate it yet, which is a miracle. (Usually by the halfway point I loathe whatever book I'm working on, but maybe that's more the norm when the book is under contract and I know I have to write it.)

My old friend from Kansas City, Ellen, got in touch with me today. I haven't seen her since her wedding (almost eight years ago) and haven't talked to her in several years. It's fun to catch up.

Thanks for visiting,
Kara