restoration and transportation

Don’t think for a minute that the great farmhouse transformation has neared completion. There are small details inside, yes, tiny details – shelves in closets, that kind of thing.

But there are still two huge, draining projects ahead of us and we were out early this morning beginning to undertake the first – the reconstruction of the front stairs. We don’t use the front door at all – it’s shut tight. But it’s there – one could say it’s a good escape, should you need to escape. Though if you stepped out anytime before this morning, you’d have stepped out onto rotting boards and no steps. Here: it looked like this:





And if you drive by the house, you can’t help but think – that is one sad farmhouse, just look at the front steps.





With the help of crowbars and mostly Ed’s enormously strong arms, we tore apart and removed the boards, planks and posts. There. The removal is done.





Now what?

Well, we’re entering the contemplation and design stage. Ed is a designer and it takes him a while to mull, search, imagine, price and finally begin. It goes like this: he’ll ask what I have in mind and I’ll say – whatever is the easiest. He’ll shake his head, as if to say – I can’t believe you have no further suggestions. I’ll venture forth with a hint of this or that, he’ll listen, grow silent and turn his attention to something else, like cutting branches or weeding tomatoes until the impulse to design strikes again.

You cannot rush a creative temperament.



In other news, against all good advice of a few Ocean commenters, I put down hard cash on a used moped. A tad battered, but as Ed says – hey, the body’s plastic, it can’t rust.

To George H: I know taking the darn thing on a county road feels unsafe and awful. Too big to squeeze onto the shoulder, too small to make an impression on a monster truck breathing down your spine. And that’s assuming monster truck even notices you down there scootin’ along. But my commute is actually quite easy. I have a few empty stretches of road and then I am in the city. I would take a baby in a stroller on those country roads, they are that empty.

To Saul: No motorcycle. It’s all about the cost of parking. The moped, with its 'park wherever permission' is a bit of a godsend. In two semesters, it’ll pay for itself.

So I have myself a moped. Does that make me a Biker Girl? And if so, do I need he attire? You know, for protection. Like, I’m told I should never venture out without leather gloves, a jacket, goggles. Ed, who rides a motorcycle in shorts and a t-shirt ignores all clothing covers (except for the helmet). The motorbike is transportation for him, not a hobby.

You do not need a leather jacket, he’ll say. Do you use a leather jacket every time you take out your bicycle?

But there are safety considerations! Mopeds are fast.

Not that fast.
Fine. I don’t need biker clothes. I'll resurrect my ex's ancient scuffed and torn leather jacket. He left it behind.

A moped. I’m set for going to work now. The semester can begin. Well, soon. Give me a few more days.