January 10, 2024, Ghost Ranch- Several things are predictable, so far this week: The sunrises and sets have been spectacular; the mornings and evenings are a bit on the chilly side here, and the breakfast fare consists of scrambled eggs, large sausage links (or Beyond Patties, for vegans), oatmeal and/or granola, plenty of fruit.
I lapsed into writing “2023”, for a few days, correcting that this evening. Other unexpected resets involved remembering things that my Eighth Grade Industrial Arts teacher, as well as my father and uncles, tried so hard to convey to my squirrely teenaged self. It’s amazing, just how much I have channeled all the practicalities that I thought were useless, back in the day.
One thing I have always done fairly well, though, is painting buildings, both inside and outside. In the past, this has helped me make ends meet in Dexter, Maine, earn a rent rebate in South Deerfield, MA and made Penny happy, when I painted the outside, and most of the rooms of our Phoenix house, before her final months on this Earth.
Today began a three-day painting of the area that our team of three is renovating. I have the painting honours, while my co-workers wrestle with the installation of new countertops and sinks. Team Lead showed me a few of his tips on getting it right the first time, and I conjured other pointers that my Dad showed us. Today’s focus was painting along the edges, top and bottom and around extraneous spots, such as strike plates and door frames.
Focusing on trims and edges gives detail its due. My life, as civically involved and as conscious of others as I have been, has nonetheless largely been on my own. At day’s end, I have mostly answered to myself, over the past thirteen years. I sense that may be changing, within the next year or so. Right now, that’s just a hunch, a feeling welling up from gut and heart-but the last time I felt this sort of energy shift was a month before I met Penny. It’s a good feeling, and proof that there is much life left to live.