A slightly surreal moment yesterday when a friend mentioned in passing that he had been reading the blog. He smiled as he said it and gave a nod. It sounded like he felt that was a good thing, but it took me totally by surprise and left me momentarily at a loss for an appropriate response. I murmured something about not posting much these days, he replied understandingly with a “Yes, summer…” and that’s where it ended.
I have mixed feelings about knowing that people I know In Real Life are also familiar with My Online Life. Not that I’m hiding anything, dear friends and neighbours, but knowing you are reading these posts does give me pause. I wonder why?
My husband reads many of my posts, usually over my shoulder as they’re being tapped out in the early morning and during daytime tea breaks. I’ve overheard him telling people about my blogging, which I must confess makes me cringe as if this were something to be ashamed of, to be hidden.
In Real Life I am secretly, painfully shy. I’m the appreciative listener at social gatherings rather than the holder-forth. It’s recently become rather trendy to self-identify as an introvert, and our socially awkward tribe has been getting some positive press, but all cute Facebook questionnaires and celebrity confessions aside, there are those of us who think better in solitude, and who enjoy the slower but possibly more forgiving process of communicating in print rather than in think-on-the-go face-to-face chat. (Before the internet we kept journals. And wrote letters. Well, I guess we still do, though the media has changed.)
Writing about my reading gives me great pleasure, and I hope reading these posts gives something of the same degree of pleasure to all of you. It’s good to feel that one is a small cog in the vast machinery of this ongoing bookish discourse, sharing an interest with (mostly) unseen others.
Half of the roof is now off our house. Three large tarps are keeping the rain from pouring in, and of course it has been raining just enough to keep things interesting.
This is the summer’s Great Big Project, changing our roofline to something more extreme to allow for better snow slide in winter, and replacing the aging metal sheathing with newer, better cladding which should outlast our time in residence. (Unless of course we both make our centuries aging-in-place, at which point I expect that these sorts of worries will be capably dealt with by others in our lives.)
It’s a massive job, and in our consistent tradition of never hiring anything out that we can do ourselves (and this covers all aspects of our lives except for things such as medical and dental visits, and haircuts, and removing/replacing tires from/on wheel rims, which my husband can do but absolutely hates so we patronize a tire shop for that particular job) we are plugging away all by ourselves.
The two of us with the priceless help of our absolutely wonderful nineteen-year-old daughter have to date built 58 roof trusses, have removed the old roofing and rafter sheathing, porch pillars and roof and rafters, and eaves and soffit and miscellaneous other stuff (there are certainly a lot of pieces in a house, as daughter rather redundantly pointed out with frustrated passion during one of her countless trips up and down the ladder), and are now in the process of putting it all back together.
We’re weeks and weeks behind when we’d hoped to be finished because of course that’s the way these sorts of things go. We’ve had to accommodate “real” work (you know – for wages), all sorts of weather, and various other pressing issues. (Including some marvelous travelling-for-pleasure, so it’s not all been “poor us” by a long shot.)
And now with a quarter of the trusses up in place, we can at last truly visualize the finished project.
It will, when done, be wonderful. No more scary sessions shovelling snow off the darned thing, no more leaks.
I should really be documenting this project in photos, but I haven’t yet taken a single one. I should remedy that, because once this is over it will all be a blur, as we move inexorably on to the next thing on the project list.
Ah, well. Onward and upward. (Quite literally. Did I mention my desperate level of discomfort with heights? Confronting that fear on a daily basis; I should come away from this episode a better person. Or something! 😉 )
Happy summer, all.