No more stuff

Hi all
We aren't working today because there's no more stuff to work on until the next load arrives from Sala Homes. Due tomorrow, we hope it will keep us busy for a while. This load will contain the ceilings, roof and claddings, I believe.
There's a low forming in the Coral Sea which could become a cyclone and rain like it did earlier in February. If it starts before we have the roof on, there will be major dramas which we don't even want to contemplate. If it all goes beautifully we will have a roof by Sunday ish and Jay tells me the building industry celebrate this milestone with beer. Actually we celebrate a few milestones with beer, like Friday.
Good news is that drilling through those enormous beams is pretty easy - the drill bit follows the ply and will even drill a warped hole through the warped beams which made Greyman happy. I problemsolved the lack of a 650mm long drill bit by visiting a nearby welder who happily welded some reo to make ours longer. He didn't want paying but we'll probably shoot something cold his way come Friday as he sure put a smile on Graeme's face. We had drinks yesterday with Al at his home which is charming. He has easy access to refreshments and lots of shady trees for Dee. A perfect arrangement.
Damon from Sala Homes was a bit taken aback when I told him I'd do this project again if we found the money and the land for it. We have had a few hiccups and I guess he thought I'd be a bit sour on the idea but freight and engineering logistics aside, Graeme and I agree this has been quicker than either of us expected. We have spent more time worrying about how to do tricky or new things than actually doing them.
And on to the weekend. We and the Bryants all bunked in together near the racecourse and Bash has started work on a song which involves the rhythmic clip clop of racehorses walking to trackwork and the muffled sound of someone speaking gibberish as they stumble into the room next door at 4.30am. It was great to see Bash and the kids and I miss 'em all again now. Am already plotting my return trip with Ali on the internet to get me cheap flights.
Today I read a book by Lily Brett, called What God Wants. I like her insight and the way she stings you sometimes. She writes with the perspective of having grown up as the child of holocaust survivors, but is bloody funny along with it.

Have been to City Cabinets. Gary took one look at my wheelchair friendly house and said don't be too fussy about the kitchen being friendly to quadraplegics - he can't peel the vegetables to put in the accessible saucepans or side opening oven... As he is quadraplegic I went with his opinion. We are having drawers, a beech look laminate on doors and a dark scratch resistant benchtop. Now to buy the appliance package.

As I walked into the bus depot from the rail station, there on the floor was a young girl who was obviously en route to her home from some sort of cattle work up north. She had all her stuff scattered around her and was sorting it out so her mother wouldn't know how feral her life had been for the last little while. I hope our girls grow up with the same healthy respect for my opinion although I could think of better places for them to do their packing than the Roma Street Transit centre floor. I had to admire her spirit though, she obviously hadn't wanted to waste a single moment of her time up wherever she was and just allowed enough time to keep herself in the will.

I love travelling - you know the suspended reality of it? On my way back from Transit centre to airport, the taxi driver had to answer many questions about her life - she has a daughter who suffers from a rare disorder called something like Bater's syndrome or something. It affects internal organs and she would stop breathing as a young child and the mother couldn't do so much as shower alone as there was noone to watch the child. One day the elderly next door neighbour gave them a puppy she was unable to take proper care of and shortly after that Mrs Taxi driver noticed the puppy would come racing up to her and carry on until she followed, inevitably the daughter had stopped breathing and the dog would paw at her and push with her nose until the girl woke up. She is now about 15 and the dog died not long ago. This behavior continued for years and they remained good friends till it died. I stopped the self pity after realising something like saying goodbye to my daughters is not as earth shatteringly sad and fraught as this poor woman's early mothering years have been. I feel lucky to have seen my girls and that their health is good.

Yah yah yah. I clearly don't have enought to do.