Anchored, Good and Fast

My bottom is in my chair, anchored and not moving. This picture is of me next to the 20,000 pound anchor from the USS Tripoli. She was moored to the pier at Mare Island at the time. That was 2004.

This is a picture of Cora...if you could see the reflection in her eye, you would see the Golden Gate Bridge...yep, this was taken in San Francisco. One of my favorite towns...Phoenix and Seattle not far behind. Portland is a distant last.

Cora and I agreed to work on the house as soon as we got home. It was a noble idea, and it lasted for approximately 3/10ths of a second. These ten hour days are killers. I did not even do that much today. I think getting up early and working more constantly all come together to make Jim a tired boy. I don’t think Cora was far behind. She looks pooped, too.

Our intention is to have a yard sale Saturday and Sunday. I know it will happen, I just don’t know how much rest we are going to get.

I sat on a tractor for the first few hours. I was back at the elementary…in the dirt. I used a tractor powered rototiller today. It has a cover that keeps things from flying out and hurting people, but it did not keep me from getting mud flung at me by the darned tractor. Then, the new guy somehow managed to chop up the lid to a junction box. I had to run into town to get a new one (don’t want someone to break a leg in a hole). I went back and picked rocks out of the dirt. I did not over work myself, but it was plenty warm out (…almost Christopher Columbus hot).