The other day I was sweeping the floor and got it into my brain that our front room needed to be moved around. Now it just feels awkward, but I’m not ready to push and shove things back into their original places. Change is good, right?

Right about where Sydney is in the above photo is almost exactly where the awkwardness begins. That space needs a little something-something. Maybe the whole rug needs a little loving, come to think of it.

I moved the shelf that my dad made us next to the fireplace and one of our comfy chairs to attempt to create a reading nook. It is difficult to get any reading done because….

Sydney thinks it is her designated look-out spot. No worries, there are plenty other awkward other places to sit in this room.

Coming down the hallway from the bedroom this is what you see. The fireplace is blocked with the other huge chair mostly because the fireplace is not centered. Oh, the awkwardness!!! I’m all for sitting by a fire to get cozy, but this moves into the realm of being a fire hog.

Looking at the room from our ‘dining room’ it doesn’t feel so awkward, but it certainly doesn’t come together and feel cozy. What to do?

Before I move everything back to how it was, Sydney wants to spend some quality time in the awkward area. She embraces the awkward. Maybe I need to work on that.

We have an old bench that was getting swallowed by some weeds in our backyard. Barry rescued it and we attempted to make it look a little more inviting.

This involved sanding, sanding, sanding, sanding. We used steel wool and I have to admit, I do not like the texture of steel wool. So, I wore the one latex glove we happened to have.

When I took my glove off and did a bit of sanding, I got some awful steel wool bits wedged into my skin. Like I said, I’m not a fan of that texture. I’d like to know who is.

After a bit of paint, the bench looks more inviting, in my steel-wool-hatin’ opinion.

Me:Knock, knock.

You: Who’s there?

Me: Lettuce

You: Lettuce who?

Me: Let us in, we’re freezing!

Ha, ha, ha, ha!!! Remember that joke? I loved it as a kid and now that I’ve actually got lettuce growing in our gardern, I’m sure Barry’s going to love hearinig with increased frequency.

I wish I had a knock knock joke to go with this picture of our new location for Blueberry Grove. Isn’t it delightful? I think we need a sign to alert our guests to Blueberry Grove. I just like the name Blueberry Grove.

This is a picture of our resident cowboy. I’ve always wanted my very own cowboy and now I’ve got one that lives in my garden. He’s everything I’ve always wanted in a cowboy….whatever that means.

Sydney isn’t really sure what to think about the new lettuce, location of Blueberry Grove and the mini HB cowboy. As far as she can tell, the blueberries are no longer accessable to her lying down and that is just about enough to make one little Pug angry.

Maybe I’ll tell her a knock knock joke that I know.

BEFORE:

DURING:

AFTER:

Yesterday my mom and Sparky arrived at HBHQ. This means that there is light at the end of the rock-wall tunnel. This also means that Barry and I will have clear directions when planting our garden.

Yesterday afternoon, before the arrival of Fidge and Sparky, we were betting whether she’d bring her own clippers. Turns out she brought two pairs and some huge wacker-backers. I found her this morning outside already making headway in the HBHQ Jungle. Not only that, but she arrived with things to plant!!! Yahooeeey!!!!

I’m off to attempt to turn my thumbs green!

I have a new perspective for what my dad’s job entails. I’ve always known that he’s a stone mason and that he builds absolutely beautiful things, but watching this whole process unfold before my very eyes gives me newfound respect and admiration.

The amount of planning and preparation that goes into each job isn’t lost on me. I know that before my dad made the trek down to HBHQ he sat down at his workspace at home and made a list of all the things that he’d need. I’ve seen him do it  a million times, sitting by the door with his work clothes still on writing with a dull pencil.

All the tools, equipment, cement, and fair-weather gear arrived and have been getting used by my dad, Izak and Jim. Watching my dad build the wall is fascinating. He doesn’t measure with traditional tools, relying on his own intuition and eyes. Talk about confidence, I like to use a ruler to cut my pie lattice pieces. Jeesh.

When we started talking about putting in these walls, I had no idea that they would be as beautiful as they are. I was clueless. From the chicken-scratch drawing that we showed him to the search for the perfect fitting rocks, my dad’s vision for our yard surpassed anything we could have imagined. My dad’s job is to make things beautiful and he sure does a heart-stirring job.

This is my little brother. He’s not so little anymore. See that bag that he’s carrying? It weighs 60 pounds. It is full of cement mix. 60 pounds is a lot. I know this because I tried to carry a few 60 pound bags.

After I carried 3 bags I decided to go get my camera. It isn’t as heavy. As I was walking to get my camera, I passed my dad. He was carrying three bags of the 60 pound cement mix. He’s a bit stronger than I am.

Izak’s pretty strong too. Even though his nickname is Skron, don’t be fooled. He’s learned the fine art of making perfectly creamy cement.

It involves adding those 60 pound bags of mix into a moving mixer that is older than his 23 years.

It also involves shooting water into the mixer to make sure it isn’t too creamy. The hose weighs much less than the 60 pound bag of cement mix, in case you were wondering.

Today I discovered that the current cement mixer can hold approx. 3.5 bags of mix. No more. No less. Otherwise there’s problems that involve electricity, frowns and a tiresome removal process. We won’t talk about that today. Nope.

I also learned that just because the hose weighs less than the 60 pound bag of mix that does not mean that I should add more water. Izak let me spray the hose and I added too much water. The cement looked very uncreamy.

That meant that we had to do some special tweaking so the boss-man wouldn’t find out. Luckily the boss is our dad.

This is Izak. Seriously, he’s not so little anymore.

Our rock wall isn’t what it once was. It might be safer to say that our rock wall doesn’t exist anymore.

My dad showed up with a couple tons of rocks and is creating a new one. There won’t be any crumbly rocks on our new wall…at least not for another few hundred years.

Edmonds recently passed a new law stating that plastic bags are no longer allowed to be used in retail stores starting next year. I think this is one major step forward and am proud that the City Council is taking the initiative to make this change.

A small part of me is somewhat sad because, in the off chance that I don’t have my reusable bags and I take home plastic ones, those plastic bags that end up in our house get used. We line our garbage cans and pick up dog poop with them. Does this new law mean that I’ll have to start buying garbage bags? I just can’t fathom that.

I know it isn’t the end of the world; in fact, it is a step closer to a whole new world and we’ll just need to be more creative with our garbage & poo bags.