Everything is under construction around here. The street out front is torn up - impassable by car and thrillingly treacherous on foot. There are big plastic pipes, men in safety vests and heavy machinery grinding, cranking and hauling. All coming to a very civilized stop between twelve and three and after six.
A French band was here building a new album with Eric as foreman. When the building wasn't shaking from the work outside, and even when it was, they recorded. I tried to stay out of the way, while at the same time I was charmed by them and interested in what they were doing.
Like 80% of Americans I've been working on a book. Will I ever finish? Yes, I will.
But right now my computer is out of commission - it had slowed down so much I was spending at least an hour a day trying to get it to do the most basic things. I took it to the local computer guy, the Rupert Pupkin of computer guys `cause I heard his mother calling his name from next door. Let me adjust that, since he is at this moment holding my computer and all the work I have done on there the last year hostage - and say he is delightful and not like Rupert Pupkin at all.
So I can't post the photo of the work going on outside and I can't write on someone else's computer (that's my excuse for this week any way). But I will be back at it again soon.