Making pretty

I thought I'd show you something besides devastation -- in this case, the torii gate we put up for Amanda and Aon's wedding all those years ago.

They have two girls now -- and I think the coat of red lacquer on the posts is about as worn out as they are, with the new baby and all.

But if you look very closely at the picture, you might see a hose going through the opening in the hedge.

It's connected to the pressure-washer I've been wielding to clean the flagstone at the summer house and pool house to get ready for the Great Greenhouse Clearout, which is set for next week. The stones get remarkably dirty, and it's actually pretty therapeutic to blast away the grime, strip by strip of the washer nozzle. I won't tell you what I fantasize the pressure stream hitting.

The weather has been at least bearable for it, in the 70s maybe, and almost makes up for the blowback of cold water that turns one into a creature from the mud-spattered lagoon. I even took my shirt off, when the sun got high enough. Unfortunately, the job requires lots of squeezing on the washer handle; and though I alternate right to left, after a few hours of it, it feels as if I have claws, not hands. Painkillers help.

Oh, speaking of hands. I'm doing this while Robert is up in Gatlinburg at a bridge tournament. I suspect that besides the bridge-brain workout, his most-challenged muscles are his glutes.

He says we have to come back in April for tax time. In an age of email, fax and FedEx, I know the real reason is bridge.