Or the View of My Porch
It’s Friday and my porch is wet. Dean and his crew spent the morning pressure-washing the roof of the porch and the shingles above so that they will look good alongside the new ones when the job is complete. Because the windows had to be ordered from a Portland dealer and are a week out, progress on our old lady has gone slowly. Over the last two days they’ve shored up the foundation and put up the bottom couple rows of shingles. Thursday the house was jacked up and rotten piers replaced. Instead of putting back the hardyboard skirting we’d had previously, Dean made a skirt of recycled wood from our Gig Harbor fence. It looks more authentic and even the high school boys on his crew were happy about recycling the wood. They were even happier when I handed them warm banana muffins.
Oh, there goes our Blues Brothers Boy. He’s a young man, probably high school, who dresses in a black suit, Converse tennis shoes, sun glasses and a fedora and must live nearby. He hasn’t got on his hat today and I wasn’t quick enough to get his picture. Next time he’s got on his complete ensemble I’ll ask if I can take his picture. He reminds me of a friend of my youngest who dressed like Charlie Chaplin in high school. It is fun watching youngsters try on characters.
Yesterday, while headed out the wooded road to Ft. Canby, a mamma bear and her two baby bears crossed the road in front of us. I wish I could have got their picture and asked her if she’s the bear who’s been getting into my garbage.
Tomorrow I’m taking my mother to Astoria. I have my aunt’s and cousin’s lists. And tonight is Bluto’s. Truly we do not buy so much fresh pizza at home, but Amy thinks it is not Friday without pizza and I cannot get decent frozen pizza here so we are giving Bluto enough business that they know what my order is. I’m going to fool them tonight when I call. I’m getting an extra pizza for my mother’s friend who will be joining us.