Wren and the Disappearing Door

I have to imagine the look of delight on the face of Wren's 4 year-old neighbor when he stopped by the tree to find the neighborhood fairy had returned from her winter travels.

A few days after he picked up Wren's note, a reply appeared, carefully tucked behind the door.

Dear Fairy Wren,

I drew a picture of you (pink) and me (blue). Hope you love it!

Sincerely, your 4 year-old neighbor

Of course I/she loved it!

I left one more small gift behind the door, it disappeared. I happily thought we were back in business. 

The next day, as I ambled around the block, I noticed the hang tag with the "open me" sign was neatly tucked against the base of the tree, but the door itself was gone! What the ???? All I can figure is that someone misinterpreted the note, thought the door itself was the small toy the tag refers to, and happily carried their loot home. 

Wren didn't want her 4 year-old neighbor to be worried, so she left him a note saying she is ok, but her front door disappeared in the recent rainstorm. It took several days, but 4 year-old did retrieve the note.

Thank goodness replacement doors are available from several larger retailers - I will have one in hand shortly and Wren will have a proper entrance to her home once again. I also have a fresh supply of small weatherproof toys headed my way. 

Magic Is!

Shower Repair?

I bought the supplies needed to do the shower repair myself, cleaned out the gap between the walls and floor, let it dry thoroughly, and put down a bead of caulk. Sadly, only after finishing the job, when I took out my glasses to check cure time, did I take a good look at the description on the tube. I'd asked for the right item, but the young guy who'd dug out the product for me didn't know his silicone from his acrylic, and had sold me the wrong stuff. My bad for not checking. A call to the Tile Shop confirmed the error, and I resignedly set about undoing the beautiful work I'd just completed.

I went and picked up the correct stuff the next day, but my self-confidence was shattered. I knew better than to not read the box; clearly my critical thinking skills are still compromised by grief. So, I called the guy who'd given me the advice to seal the bottom edge of the walls, and hired him to do the work.

He was busy, but wanted me to be able to use my shower, so squeezed me into his busy schedule, and came out last Saturday morning to do the work. Now, my caulking skills are pretty good, but the skills needed to put down a perfect line of silicone caulk are not among those I have perfected, so I asked him if I could watch him work. He agreed, and so I sat down, ready to learn.

Sadly, what I learned is that this young man of good intentions and good heart, when overextended and rushing, was not able to access the patience and attention to detail needed to work with the finicky caulk. 

He didn't carefully look into all parts of the cavity - red flag #1. I mean, I know I cleaned it well, but he doesn't know me. He didn't know if I'd really cleaned all the unsuitable stuff out, and silicone caulk won't adhere to other caulk.

Then, I watched with some dismay as he stuffed layers of caulk and backer rod into the cavity beneath the wall - red flag #2. The work he did wasn't going to hurt anything, but it also wasn't going to help - there was no way he'd created a solid line of defense. Water doesn't care if you've blocked the greater portion of its path back to the earth. It WILL find the gaps and wend its way as the Maker intended.

By this time, I wasn't surprised to watch him skip the prep steps I'd have done for that final, oh-so-visible line of caulk, but I was still willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, figuring there's a lot I don't know about ways to do things.

Nope. He was getting silicone everywhere. After watching for another fifteen minutes, I couldn't watch any longer. I left the room, hoping against hope he'd be able to get it cleaned up. 

He worked alone for another bit, then came downstairs. He told me he'd done what he could for the day, and would be back the next afternoon to do cleanup. No, no payment required just yet.

Once he drove down the street, I went upstairs to take a look, and heaved a heavy sigh. Perhaps three of them. More, even. The work was a total loss.

Silicone caulk is a much messier cleanup than acrylic, and it took me the remainder of the evening to undo what he'd done. As I worked, I had lots of time to think about my part in the whole mess.

Why did I ignore those red flags? Why didn't I speak up, ask questions, assert myself? Why did I just passively sit there and watch him waste his time, my time, and $40 worth of caulk? Why is part of me still convinced I am not allowed to voice my truth? Why, when faced with a momentary lapse in my judgement, did I decide to give up on myself?

Tough questions. I do know this is not how I want to be.

I finished the cleanup Sunday morning, and put down my own line of fresh caulk. It's not up to my OCDness standards, but I learned one more thing that will make my next attempt look better. The bead is clean enough to keep the water on the shower side of the wall, which is what really matters here.

Now, I have to wait until Wednesday to test the fix; I want to be sure to give the caulk a chance to properly cure before getting it wet.

Fingers (impatiently) crossed!

Spring at the Lake

I took a break this past weekend from the stressors and to-dos of my day-to-day life, and accepted an invitation to join some friends at their second home at Stockton Lake.

Friday was a lovely day for a drive down to central Missouri. The redbud trees have finished blooming, but the dogwoods were in full flower. The sun was shining, highlighting the blush of green in the treetops, the sky a brilliant blue. What's not to like?? I rolled along without trouble and without stopping, the dog quietly napping in the back seat the whole way there. We arrived in the late afternoon, and our hosts, Diane and Gary, greeted us with open arms and smiles. 

I hauled Sylvester out of the back seat (he refuses to try to jump in or out of a car), set him on the ground, and by all appearances, he soon decided he'd landed in paradise. So many new things to smell!! There were friendly dogs to meet, a pecking order to establish, multiple rocks to pee on. No tugs on the leash to pull him away from an intriguing scent, a huge area to explore at leisure, extra willing hands to give him pets when he checked back in to see if the people were doing anything interesting. Life was good.

Saturday morning found us hiking in the state park across the lake. Since we had no company on the trail, I set him free to roam at will. We meandered happily along the trail, the people keeping an eye peeled for morel mushrooms along the way ('tis the season!), the dog ranging ahead and behind as his nose called. 

To my pleasant surprise, he never got too far from us - he kept an eye peeled for our progress along the trail; would wait when he got too far ahead, scurry to catch up when an especially appealing scent had him lagging behind. 

And, and. Diane's eagle eye spotted four of the elusive morels. Now. For one of the finds, I was walking next to her as she shouted a cry of delight and pointed to a promising specimen. We stopped, and as she pulled it up, I scanned the area to see if the mushroom had any friends. 

Nope, nothing there. Nothing that is, until Diane pointed out a second morel in the area I'd just looked over. I'd have sworn it hadn't been there a moment before; I'm pretty sure it manifested itself out of the leaves after my gaze passed, just for her. It's the only logical explanation.

She is a master cook as well as an experienced morel hunter, and for dinner that night, I got to enjoy the delicate taste of morels for just the second time in my life.

A second long hike on an equally beautiful Sunday morning capped the weekend's relaxing activities. (Sadly, we found no more mushrooms.) Sylvester and I headed for home shortly after lunch. He plopped into the back seat, tired from the morning's exertions, and slept all the way home. I was pleasantly tired as I drove, more centered than I'd been when I arrived just 48 short hours before. 

Thank Goodness for welcoming friends, good conversation, laughter, and time with Nature. It was a healing reprieve, time to Stop. Breathe. Relax. *happy sigh*

Shower Woes

Uh-oh.

I noticed the bulge in the sheetrock next to the shower last month. It wasn't a very big bulge, so I promptly decided to un-notice it for a while. I was too sad to deal with what I knew was going to be bad news.

Last week I decided ignoring the issue wasn't helping to make it go away, so I took out my tools, lowered my keister to the floor, peeled off the trim, and started digging into the wall.

and digging. and digging. *sigh*

The leak has been there for a while. Likely for years, since even new lumber doesn't darken and rot overnight; maybe even since we finished installing the shower.

Once I finished digging, I just sat and looked at it for a while. Started to picture all the steps needed to un-install the glass surround, tear out the base, and then rebuild the whole thing. Decided I'm just not up for it right now - largely because if I didn't do the work right the first time, and don't know where I went wrong, it's highly likely I'll make the same mistake (or another just as damaging), and end up right back where I started.

So, I hunted around on my NextDoor app for a tile guy, found a promising name, and sent him a message asking if he'd be willing to tackle the project. To my surprise he was willing to come out to take a look at the issue and talk things through yesterday afternoon.

His first assessment wasn't as dire as mine. The problem might be at the drain, in which case the big job will need to happen. But. It might be at the edges of the pan. It turns out the advice I got to leave the bottom edge of the shower wall unsealed so any water that gets behind the tiles can seep out the bottom was dated. The current practice is to run a bead of silicon along the bottom edge. If I do this, it might keep the water from getting to wherever that small hole in the liner happens to be.

Hmmm. Backer rod, caulk. This project, I can tackle. 

If it turns out to be a problem with the drain after all, and the entire base needs to come out, I'll hire Grant to do the work. If not, I'll hire him to do a different small project around the house - fair's fair - he did tell me how to solve the problem. 

In the meantime, I've come to terms with myself and whatever error in installation I committed. I mean, I've done how many projects, over how many years, saving myself how much money? This is the first one where I messed it up badly enough that I need to call in the pros to clean up after me. Not a bad run, eh?

I'll take it.

Wish me luck on the repairs - I'll let you know what I find.

Morning Song

I reluctantly stir

open my eyes to the predawn darkness.
time?
6:30

ugh!

I hit the snooze alarm

nine more minutes
the buzzer rings again

This time, I rise

because I know 
future Janice
noon Janice
will be a happier camper if she's gotten to exercise this morning.

I stumble to the bathroom

splash water on my face

put in my contacts.
Throw on some yoga clothes
head downstairs

still groggy
then
open the door 

step outside to take the dog on his morning walk.

It's quiet outside 

dawn just beginning to light the sky.
As I walk
I open my ears.
At first 

all I hear is the roar of a distant highway
then
the song of the awakening birds 

penetrates my fog.

First one note
then another
then, suddenly

there is a chorus 

welcoming the morning light
proclaiming the start of another day.

By the time I'm done 

circling the block
the dog has done his duty.
I am glad I am awake
and outside.

Grateful for the reminder:
Beauty Is.