vituperation

Handy do-it-yourselfer tip for today: make sure caulk is completely dry before painting it, or it will crack and look crappy, and you’ll have to do it over. And if you hate caulking as much as I do, that sucks.

Work in Smallville progresses at what feels like a glacial pace. We’ve decided to take advantage of the nice fall weather and we split our weekend time between inside and outside, because we don’t really relish the thought of working outside all day long throughout the winter, even in the relatively mild Alabama climate.

That, coupled with the fact that we’re renovating both remaining upstairs bedrooms simultaneously, makes things seem to go especially slowly. It’s like we bust our asses the whole day, to the point of resembling the walking dead by nightfall, but because of the piecemeal aspect of the work it seems like we’ve accomplished hardly a thing.

Note: I’ve about decided to take the guest bedroom for myself, and make what was going to be my bedroom into the guest bedroom. It makes sense, really. The original guest bedroom is on the back of the house, where it’s quieter. So, from now on, I’ll be referring to “the guest bedroom” as one we’re working on, even though I finished the guest bedroom last weekend. Please don’t be confused.

This weekend’s (Friday-Sunday) accomplishments by the two of us: all the backing paper and glue removed from the walls of the guest bedroom; guest bedroom and closet primed; guest bedroom, spud’s bedroom, and both closets puttied and sanded to fill in knotholes and gaps; all doors from spud’s room and guest room removed for painting; spud’s room painted; spud’s closet painting roughed in; gate post and gate from original property fence cut/knocked down; brush and PVC pipe piled by shed cleared out; front and side yards debris and trash removed; front and side yards cut and bagged; six trees cut down and sawn into firewood; one trip to Lowe’s for new toys; many breaks on the front porch (especially yesterday, the reasons for which come later in this entry).

Huh. I guess it does look like we get things done out there. Weird how it seems like nothing’s happening when so much clearly is.

It’s official: I didn’t have to go to Lowe’s yesterday OR today. That’s a record.

I met our next door neighbor yesterday. I was working out near the big brush pile, and he came outside to grill something. He settled into the glider near his grill, presumably to watch my one-man cabaret act titled Fred Cuts Up Some Trees in the Back Forty. At one point I had to go show Robyn how to open the gas can so she could refuel the lawn mower, and I took the opportunity to walk over and introduce myself. After all, since he’s our only real neighbor, we should probably meet, right?

As it turns out, our neighbor is quite chatty. I already know more about him than I know about any of our neighbors in suburbia. I know where he works, what he does, how he gets there, all about his divorce in 1989, what all three of his adult kids do and where they went to college, a good bit about his grandkids, all the places he’s lived (down to the street level), how old his parents are, how long they’ve been married, how often they’ve moved (49 times in 64 years!), where they live now, about the farms they’ve owned and managed, and how his mother’s health is doing.

I learned that in about fifteen minutes of conversation.

People seem friendlier in Smallville. Not that people aren’t friendly where we are now, because they are, but friendlier in that they’re more open, more willing to tell you things about themselves. More trusting, maybe?

I think most people are friendly in general, because I’m something of a Pollyanna when it comes to human nature and expecting the best out of people, but the people in Smallville—from our neighbor to the old guys at the corner grocery to the waitresses at the small restaurant at Smallville’s red light—seem more prone to strike up a conversation and seem genuinely interested in finding out about us.

Hell, maybe that’s just the small town nosiness I’ve heard about.

The past two Saturdays, we’ve stopped at the restaurant for a big breakfast before we go bust our asses. There’s something to be said about a high-calorie meal at the beginning of a hard day’s work. Both times, we had the same waitress, who even remembered us this Saturday and wanted to see pictures of the work we’d done on the house. As I’ve mentioned previously, the people at the corner grocery already know us as the people who bought the old Nelson place.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m not trying to say there’s something mystical or special about small town life, because I’m not. I’m not trying to wax eloquent about how it’s magical in Smallville, because it isn’t. It’s just different, and cool that people here are so friendly and open.

Word's already out in Smallville: cat-friendly people are in town. Before we'd even finished the purchase of the house, a little mostly black (she has a white bib) Mama cat showed up, checking us out. She was a little skittish at first, especially around me, but she's come around. Now she likes for me to pick her up and hold her and scratch on her ears.

Mama, who sounds exactly like our Tom Cullen (looks like him, too) when she meows.

Then, a few days later, she showed up with her husband. He was (and is) VERY skittish, but he lightened up yesterday and let me pet him. Cats will slut it up to you if you give them a bit of turkey, I’ve found.

Daddy

And then yesterday, they brought the rest of the pack. Mama was around most of the morning, and at one point I took a break from the painting and went wandering out back. She was over by a magnolia tree I’d cut down on Saturday (Hey, can I use that wood for firewood? Anyone? I know I can use the pecan and maples I’ve cut down, but I’m not sure about burning magnolia). I walked over toward her, calling out, and suddenly like groundhogs little kitten heads started popping up out of the leaves.

The whole family (2 adults, 4 kids) spent the day hanging out on our front porch, making themselves right at home.

Note the plentiful supply of food my wife keeps on the porch,
which guarantees all sorts of critters.

Originally, we thought they might be feral, despite their friendliness toward us (remember, food makes friends). We discussed getting the kittens adopted out via the no-kill shelter, and getting Mama and Daddy fixed. However, I asked our next door neighbor if they belonged to anyone, and they do.

It’s kind of sad, actually. Mama appears to be pregnant again. I saw a worm coming out of her ass yesterday (you’re welcome for that visual), which probably means they all have worms. They all scratch, so I’m betting fleas and/or mites are also an issue. It’s a little irritating that people would take on the responsibility for an animal and then not really take care of them.

Finally, I will leave you with an image from yesterday that I call The Essence of Manliness.

It’s amazing how sore doing things like this will make your forearms.

You may have missed it amidst all the manliness above, so here it is in its full glory, the tractor hat:

The green visor is especially pimpin’.