Devauld.ca

Well I managed to indulge in some good old fashioned physical labour, and loved it.

First I got my hands on a F350. It's primal when you sit above the road in an idling turbo diesel fortress. Nothing quite sounds like a torquing diesel engine, and being so high up the road makes you feel like a leader surveying his kingdom. It was a Ford, but beggars can not be choosers.

I drove out to Wall Street and finally got the first bit of production out of a deal I've been working. Old Wilbert is fine with me tearing down a couple old granaries, sheds and shelters out at one of his places.

Herman and I spent the afternoon ripping apart an old Coal Shed, carefully removing the nails and stacking it in the back of the Ford. It felt really good to just use brute force and ignorance to push over roofs and pull things apart. Although this morning, I do feel muscles that I have not used in a very long time.

As we worked, Herman and I gabbed about living in Houston and the who and the what from that little spot on Earth. I became rather reflective and started to wonder about some of the people. I have done a terrible job of keeping in tour. Whatever happened to the fun Timm's cousins, roudy Poznikoff and crazy Ian? Where is nimble Jessica, talented Laura and sleepy Greg? What are fisherman Jamie, stubborn Vance, megolomanic Craig and smart Ben up to these days? How are sexy Genevra, fit Leanna and partying Lindsay? It's been so long since I thought of the people at the mill, the tailgate partiers, the offroad fanatics, the drama makers and the watchers that names tumbled through my head as we gabbed, hammered, pulled and pried.

The day was long, and I finished it stacking lumber by the light of a cargo lamp, but when I went home and had a hot shower, there was nothing easier than getting to sleep.