Saturday we awoke barely functional, flattened by the preceding weeks of enhanced salt, sugar and socialization in our lives, sore of muscle, dull of mind…and quietly collapsed subsequently.

Sunday afternoon, somewhat more wakeful, brought us Seth who came tantalizingly close to getting the ’82 running though that wasn’t exactly like being home alone either…plus

Strange Things were happening to the sagebrush.

Monday went to all day wondering whether the Battle Born order was ever going to show up

which it finally did, 7:30 in a 40′ trailer and duly maneuvered into the repo by palette jack.  Getting the rig out of there in the pitch dark was a trick, all the more so as once he got turned around and took the left to Parker I had chase over there and turn him around again.

Anyway what

with

all that

Tuesday was the first day we really felt like we were really here, albeit briefly.

The day dissolved into locating and

sourcing paintings

in the repo-

oh.

Greening, chillier than

it might appear and Wednesday

Seth was back with Sonny

to set pavers for “Cloak of the Motion” [supposedly arriving here in early May], after which S. finished up the ’82 while I moved way too many boxes of Auto Biographies around in the repo.

Finally L. and I settled in to celebrate my birthday, phew…sitting in the Cathcart Chair on the east-facing porch at dusk with a glass of wine and remembering that “inside of a dog it’s too dark to read” before scallops and cauliflower after which Linda, attended by Cosmos, who got

up on the couch to make sure they were properly appreciated, brought out the exquisite birthday card and object he’d attentively observed in the making.  A creature of remarkable sentience: he’d known exactly what was being made, why and for whom…

The evening ended with with Izel, Christine and Luz on Facetime…

and I was then, oh, eighty.

Or uh-oh, eighty.

Oh well.