Keep Going

“Keep going Mart, just keep going.”

That’s what I was saying to myself last night while standing in the garage just after exhaling. I was drinking a beer too; I’d been drinking them most of the day. My name’s Marty, actually Martin, Marty for short, and Mart is short for Marty. Anyway, yesterday was Sunday and once again I spent all day working on the house and property. First thing in the morning I went for a load of water, to Bayfield because the bulk water facility in Durango was tore down on account of road construction. I have to haul water because my #@$% well went dry a few years back. We live on a mountain.
The drive to Bayfield was pretty casual-it just takes time. The next thing I did was sand some drywall patching in the house. We’re painting some of the walls trying to get the place fixed up to sell. We love it; we just can’t afford it anymore. After the sanding I mixed some more hot mud and gave the cracks a final coat. While I was up on the ladder spreading the mud my wife and our four year old daughter, it was her birthday today, headed out for town. They were after the cake.
My next task was concrete, actually sac-crete. I’m extending one of the sidewalks, the one to the front door, out to meet the one that goes to the back door. After framing up the next section, it had a step in it so it was kind of tricky; I mixed up my first batch. I just do one 80lb bag at a time, it’s easier. After about the fourth bag I cracked my first beer. Shortly after that I went to the garage for the first hit of the day. I’m a casual user, have been for about 36 years. If you ever want to get good at sac-crete, I highly recommend this practice.
Back at the jobsite after the mini-break, I mixed up another four bags and then screed off the excess. It was looking good. Just then my son pops his head out the back door and say, “Lunchtime.” He hadn’t made lunch and wasn’t calling me in to sit down, he’s only eight; he was hungry and his mother was in town. Oh well, I thought, I need another beer anyway.
“So what’ll it be?” I said to him.
“Just a sandwich,” he replied, “but don’t use the turkey, mom says it’s like a month old.”
So I pulled out the ham and that was like a month old so I threw it in the garbage. I checked the date on the turkey, it wasn’t even to the ‘sell by’ date, and it smelled OK.
“This turkey is fine.”
“No it’s not,” he protested, “just put cheese on it.”
So I made him a cheese sandwich and grabbed another beer. Back out in the heat I edged and trowelled the mud then went to the garage. When I came out the girls were just driving up, so I unloaded the groceries and carried in the cake. Carrying the cake, walking behind my daughter, I marveled once again at her beauty and reminded myself of how lucky I am.
“How old are you, sweetie?”
“Aaa, four months?”
“Four years, silly.”
“Oh,” she said with a laugh.
The mud in the house was dry so I started sanding.
“Hey, you’re getting dust everywhere!” my wife exclaimed.
“I can’t do this without making dust,” I said. “Just a little bit more and I’ll be done.”
She didn’t say anything else; she just gave me the look.
When the sanding was finished I started taping. This wall is fifty feet long with two elevation drops, four stairs each, six windows, French doors, two sets of cabinets, and eleven feet of kitchen counter. After I’d extinguished two rolls of blue painter’s tape I went to the garage looking for more. There was none. I found two rolls of old masking tape.
When the actual painting finally got underway the gang wanted to get in on it. The wife is okay with the roller and I got her started after I’d cut in most of the kitchen section. On the open wall above one set of stairs I let the boy have a go with the roller. Two hours later my eyes were spent. I made it past the French doors and only had the twelve foot high section next to the fireplace left.
After cleaning my brush it was time for the cake. My wife had already fed the kids. I grabbed the camera and sat on the floor. My daughter is all about princesses so that’s what was on the cake. We sang and I took pictures as fast as the camera’s memory card could save them.
When the party started to die down I went for my mandi. Mandi is the Balinese word for bath, or bathing; my wife is Balinese and that’s the word our family uses. Then, while the brats were boiling, my wife and I put the kitchen back together.
I usual water all my house plants, I have about 40, on Sunday mornings, but yesterday it didn’t happen until about 8:30PM. It was the third quarter by the time I turned on the basketball game.
Well, those were some of the things I did yesterday, those things and about twenty other odd jobs I won’t bore you with, so that’s why that evening I found myself standing in the garage giving yours truly a little pep talk. “Just keep going Mart, just keep going.” I’ve caught myself saying it quite a bit lately, it’s almost religious. I’m old as dirt, but my family is young and beautiful so I just gotta keep going.

P.S. The wife just called-we’re out of water.