It's curtains!

These are voilages or what I would call sheers or sheer curtains. They went up pretty easily yesterday. Of course, that was after I took the old ones down, cleaned the rods, washed the windows, and vacuumed the floor. There was a fair amount of furniture moving, too. But the result was worth it.

The deck window. Tasha approves (I think).

I ordered these at a window/wall/floor decorating store up near Blois back on April 5. I got an email on Thursday the 28th informing me that they were ready for pick-up. They had to be custom made as the windows in our house are wider than standard French windows and no ready-made curtains would fit them. I went onto the store's web site for instructions on how to measure the windows for the type of curtain I wanted. I measured several times, recalling the old adage from This Old House, "measure twice, cut once." That, and the fact that custom made curtains are non-returnable. Everything had to be right. I drew up a rendering of the windows with all the measurements indicated and headed up to Blois.

The north-facing window.

The young woman in the store who took my order was very nice, very knowledgeable, and very patient with me. When I saw the fabric that we had decided on from the web site, I didn't really like it, so I picked out another. The sales agent took me through each measurement and made a couple of adjustments here and there to accommodate the hanging style, in my case oeillets (those rings in the curtain).

The old curtains were literally coming apart at the seams. And those rings were a pain to remove and reattach whenever I washed the curtains.

We bought the old curtains at the same store nineteen years ago. Their age was starting to show. Most obvious was the fabric disintegrating where it attached to the rings. The curtains were coming off the rods. Our intention was to get new curtains two years ago, but the stores closed for a while when covid hit. Then inertia took over and we just didn't get it together. Finally, the spirit moved us and now, voilà, voilages!

La glycine

Our wisteria is blooming now. It's not drop-dead gorgeous, probably because I don't prune it enough, but it's pretty nonetheless. We planted it back in 2006, I think. It was about two feet tall then.

Wisteria against the west-facing wall.

I picked up the new curtains for the living room yesterday. The store is up in the southern suburbs of Blois, about a thirty minute drive each way. While there, I went to the nearby fancy produce store and found several goodies, among them snow peas and okra. I also got some nice radishes, some arborio rice (we had risotto for lunch yesterday), and some Italian cheeses. I plan to put the curtains up today and, if I'm successful, get some photos.

Our old rototiller is history. They guy at the garden center said it wasn't worth repairing. So Ken bought a new one and it was delivered a couple of days ago. It's a smaller model than the old tiller, so it should be easier to maneuver it around the garden plot. We may make our first test run today.

The satellite dish problem is fixed, too. The guy that came to have a look noticed right away that the cover protecting the captor was gone. He said that water got inside and ruined it. After about fifteen minutes (and a nice chunk of change) he had installed a new captor our reception is perfect. Win!

I've cut two of the three yard sections over the past couple of days. Today will see the last one done. Until next time.

Tower of power

Here's the last of my mini-series of night shot photos from 1988. It's taken from the Champ de Mars, looking through the base of the Eiffel Tower toward the Palais de Chaillot. Too bad about the construction netting, but stuff happens. Let's pretend that it adds a certain je ne sais quoi to the image.

Tour Eiffel by night. Digitized color slide, 1988.

Monuments like this undergo regular maintenance, cleaning/painting, and repair work. Some more frequently than others. One year, Ken and I were walking through the square in front of Notre Dame cathedral. The façade was covered in scaffolding and had been for several years. We overheard another tourist tell her friend, "The one time I come to Paris and it's covered in scaffolding." No matter when you visit Paris, something's going to be covered in scaffolding.

Place de la Concorde

Here's another in my small series of night photos from 1988. This one was taken at the western end of the Tuilieries Garden looking across the Place de la Concorde and includes two iconic Parisian monuments. The first, of course, is the Eiffel Tower in the distance. The second is the obélisque in the center of the place. The 3,300 year-old obélisque, a gift to France from Egypt in 1836, is one of two that stood in the ancient Egyptian city of Luxor.

Light trails of moving cars in the Place de la Concorde. Digitized color slide, October 1988.

The place in modern times is mostly a huge traffic circle at the base of the Avenue des Champs-Elysées on the west, the rue de Rivoli on the east, the rue Royale to the north (which runs up to the church of la Madeleine), and the Pont de la Concorde to the south, crossing the river to the Assemblée Nationale, home of the French parliament.

The place is also known for being the site of numerous executions by guillotine in the years following the French Revolution, most notably those of king Louis XVI and queen Marie Antoinette. Back then it was called Place de la Révolution.

You may have noticed that I over-exposed the obélisque. Back in the olden days, before digital photography, there was no instant gratification, no chance to look at an image to see if it worked. One had to wait until the film was developed to see how things went. I didn't use a light meter and I didn't bracket my shots most of the time. And, of course, I did not take notes to know what the exposure settings on the camera were; I was not that fastidious, at least not in photography.

Saint-Eustache

Construction of the gothic Eglise Saint-Eustache began in the early sixteenth century. It was built on the edge of Paris' central food market, les Halles, which today is a modern shopping and entertainment district and major hub of the city's subway and regional rail systems. The south tower of the church was never finished. I don't know why.

Eglise Saint-Eustache, southern façade. Digitized color slide, October 1988.

This is another of my early attempts at night photography from 1988. I think it worked better than the shot of the Fontaine Saint-Sulpice that I posted last week, but only because of luck. You could call it a shot in the dark, as it were. I can't believe that I lugged a tripod along on that trip.

Le jardin vu du ciel

This view of the Luxembourg Garden in Paris is taken from the top of the Tour Montparnasse, fifty-nine floors above ground level. On the north side of the garden is the Palais du Luxembourg, built by order of Marie de Médicis in the seventeenth century. Since 1799, the palace is home to the French Senate.

Luxembourg Palace and Garden, Paris. Digitized color slide, sometime in the 90s.

In the center of the photo you can see the cathedral of Notre-Dame de Paris. Further north, and a little to the left, you may be able to make out the Hôtel de Ville, Paris City Hall.

Les amoureux au jardin

Another old photo taken in the Luxembourg Garden. I'm not sure when I took it. Late 80s? Early to mid 90s? I guess my organizational skills were lacking when I scanned these. And there is no meta data to consult for old slides and scans. One day I may figure it out, but it is not this day.

Looking east across the garden toward the Boulevard Saint-Michel. Digitized color slide, sometime in the early 90s (est.).

We're having reception problems with our television satellite service. The tuning boxes (we have two) seem to be working and connected to the internet (they download program info from the 'net), but they report no signal from the satellite when we try to watch. The signal just disappeared around mid-day on Saturday. The company reports no problem with the satellite itself, so it must be us. When it gets light, I'm going to have to go outside with binoculars to see if anything is visibly wrong with the dish. Whatever it looks like, we'll have to call for service. On Monday. I can't reach the dish two stories up, and I won't go that high on a ladder.

It's always something.

Un beau jour au jardin

On nice days, Parisians and tourists like to spend time in the Luxembourg Garden. They stroll, they sit in the sun, they sit in the shade, they enjoy an ice cream, they push toy sailboats out into the fountain, and they play tennis. When I lived in the nearby pension de famille in 1981, the woman who ran it, Madame Cornille (which humorously translates to Mrs. Black-eyed Pea), prepared bag lunches on Sundays. I remember many a Sunday sitting in the garden eating mine, usually a ham sandwich on a piece of baguette, a wedge of supermarket cheese like la vache qui rit or Babybel, a piece of fruit (usually a banana or an apple), and a little pot of yogurt.

A place in the sun. Digitized color slide, sometime in the 90s.

This photo is probably from the early or mid 90s. A rather stylishly-dressed woman (not anyone I know) was enjoying reading a magazine in the sunshine. From what I can make out, the magazine is Télérama, a newstand TV and movie guide.

Un gendarme au jardin

I don't know if this is an actual gendarme or a member of some other police or military branch. For today, he's a gendarme. And he's helping us transition from photos of Saint-Sulpice to some more from the Luxembourg Garden. Those are the towers of Saint-Sulpice visible from the garden's central basin and fountain.

A lovely sunny day in the Jardin du Luxembourg. Digitized color slide, sometime in the 90s.

Thursday was another nice day and I got out and cut the grass outside the hedges (along the road). But, like painting the Golden Gate Bridge (or the Forth Bridge if you're British), I need to start again from the beginning as the north forty is growing at a clip. Oh well. Rain is expected over the weekend, so I may just wait.

Fontaine Saint-Sulpice

This is one of my first efforts at night photography dating from 1988. Not my strong point then, not my strong point now. That being said, it is what it is. I'm pretty sure I used a tripod for the shot, if memory serves. The fountain in the square in front of the church of Saint-Sulpice is monumental and, when it's running, the sound of the water is almost deafening.

La fontaine Saint-Sulpice. Digitized color slide, 1988.

As I mentioned before, I walked through this square almost daily to and/or from classes at the Alliance Française. I saw the fountain in all kinds of weather, all kinds of light. It made an indelible impression on my 1981 self. So the photo has sentimental value for me. Here are a few more daylight views from my last visit in 2018.

If you look closely, you can see the top of the Tour Montparnasse lit up in the background. It's just behind the urn on the center left side of the fountain. I don't remember noticing that before now.

Saint-Sulpice en noir et blanc

I'm pretty sure that I took this photo in 1988, the first time that Ken and I returned to Paris after 1982. It's a color slide, but the colors in the scan I found are not particularly good. Still, I think it looks ok in black and white. Until I find and re-scan the original slide (they're stored away in the attic) this will have to do.

The north tower of the église St.-Sulpice in Paris. Digitized color slide (b/w version), est. 1988.

I took the photo looking east along the rue du Vieux Colombier toward the place St.-Sulpice and the church itself. Around nearly every Paris street corner you get unexpected and sometimes breathtaking views.

Eglise Saint-Sulpice

This is the neighborhood that I lived in when I first arrived in Paris in 1981. I had no idea where I was then, but I soon found out how lucky I was to have landed in the Saint-Germain-des-Prés quarter, very close to this church (not to mention the church of St.-Germain-des-Prés). When I walked to school (which took about twenty minutes), my regular route took me through the place in front of St.-Sulpice with its amazing fountain in the center. It's the heart of the sixth arrondissement, full of activity and history (what part of Paris isn't?).

The Church of Saint-Sulpice and its fountain out front, seen from the top of the Tour Montparnasse. In the upper left corner is the old Samaritaine department store, now completely renovated. Digitized color slide, sometime in the 90s.

The program I had signed up with offered students a housing option in a pension de famille (boarding house) in that neighborhood and I, not really wanting to live outside the city or with a family as an au pair, decided that option was for me. The Résidence St.-Germain is now long gone, but I remember my window looking down on a tiny street called la rue des Ciseaux (Scissors Street). The first night I spent there, a balmy early September night, I remember the street below buzzing with the sound of people sitting out on the terrasses of small restaurants. I went out with a few of the other students for a quick drink in a nearby café on the Boulevard St.-Germain. Back at the room, I settled into bed and tuned my little radio until I found some typical French music. I was in Paris! As exhausted as I was from the trip, sleep was far away. I'll never forget that first night.

I'm better

A brief explanation. I had a bad reaction to a new drug my doctor prescribed. The underlying condition isn't serious, but when I mentioned it, the doctor said, "Take this," which I did on Saturday night before bed. And it knocked me for a loop. My body temperature dropped, I felt clammy and overall weakened, and I didn't sleep all night. Ken said I was as pale as a ghost on Sunday morning. The worse thing was that it wrecked havoc with my digestive system. I was worshiping the porcelain goddess, as they say, a few times Sunday morning, among other things. And then there were the hiccups that lasted more than several hours through the afternoon and evening.

Looking upstream on the Seine toward the Sainte-Chapelle and Notre-Dame de Paris. The bridge is the pont de la Concorde.

Digitzed color slide, sometime in the 90s.

I couldn't fathom eating anything yesterday, so Ken enjoyed his Easter dinner all by himself. We'll have it again today. There are plenty of leftovers. Last night I began to feel better and I slept well. This morning I feel completely normal. For me. The whole episode lasted about 24 hours. Needless to say, I did not (and will not) take any more of those pills.

I'm sick

Not feeling well at all this morning after a bad night. Here's a pretty château just north of Paris.

The Château de Chantilly. Digitized color slide, sometime in the 90s.

I can't yet pin down when I took this photo, but I think it was in the early to mid 1990s.

Petite Charlotte

The charlotte is a standard in French pastry making and, from what I gather, is popular across Europe. There's actually a special mold in which they're made, not surprisingly called a charlotte mold. In France, the charlotte is often made with lady fingers soaked in a simple syrup that line the inside of the mold. The lined mold is filled with a whipped cream or other cream filling. The charlotte is refrigerated until set, then topped with fresh fruit for serving.

A mini raspberry charlotte, filled with whipped cream.

The charlotte pictured here is a mini, single-serving version made in the bakery where I got the pâté de pâques (yesterday's post). They're made with raspberries and were so pretty I couldn't resist. They tasted as good as they looked.

Friday was a beautiful day and I got out and mowed the north forty. The primroses are all done for this year. If I'm feeling ambitious, I'll do another section of the yard today. I usually wait until after noon to mow because the grass is heavy with dew in the mornings. It needs to dry out before I can cut it.

Pâté de Pâques

Easter pâté is somewhat of a local tradition in central France. I didn't do much research to get the details, but it seems the origin of the dish is not really known. It's basically a pâté en croûte (pâté baked inside a flaky pastry) with whole hard-cooked eggs inside. This version is from a bakery in Saint-Aignan. I think it's unusual in that it's a single serving, and round. Most of what I see is the pastry formed into a long bar with six or more eggs lined up inside, then sliced to serve.

A single-serving pâté de pâques with a pleasing design cut into the pastry.

Ken and I shared this one as an appetizer before yesterday's lunch. I brought two home from the bakery, so we'll have another one today. The pastry itself is excellent, light and flaky. The pâté inside is basic, nothing fancy or highly flavored. And the egg is, well, an egg.

The cross section. Each half makes a good appetizer. A whole one, with a salad along side, would make a good meal.

These pastries show up in the bakeries and delis just before Easter, are available for another week or so after the holiday, then they disappear until next year.

Preparing the garden

The first step in our annual vegetable garden adventure is to plant seeds in March so that seedlings are ready for transplant in mid-May. And so they have been. Most of the tomatoes this year will be Marmande, but there are also some Roma and a couple of Lancelot (those are small cherry-like tomatoes). I've also got zucchini and basil seedlings in the greenhouse.

Tomato seedlings in the greenhouse. They'll get thinned down to one per pot after they get a little bigger.

The second step is to till up the soil and add amendments like compost or other fertilizers as necessary. That will happen in the coming weeks. But first, the tiller needed some attention. The gas cap is broken and the machine lost its ability to reverse. Ken talked to a guy over at a local garden center about repairs. He came by a couple of days ago and picked up the machine and is having a look at it. He's supposed to give us an estimate of what it would cost to get it back into good repair (we've had it since 2004). Then we will make a decision to either repair it or get a new (or used) one.

Home again

We arrived back at our home in San Francisco the first week of June 2001 after our second vacation in the the Loire Valley (and some time in Paris). Waiting for us, of course, was our little sheltie Collette (she had a house sitter while we were gone). This is the back end of our house. It was built on the side of a steep hill so that when you were in the back yard, you were just about two floors above street level.

Collette in our small San Francisco yard. Digitized color slide, Spring 2001.

Below is a shot looking away from the house to a section of the small yard and garden that we put in. I was just getting that apple tree espaliered against the fence when we decided to sell and move to France in 2003. Collette moved with us and got to spend the last few years of her life in the French countryside.

A corner of our back garden in San Francisco. Digitized color slide, Spring 2001.

I have more scanned slides to process and post from other trips, but I'll take a break from that now for more mundane images of seedlings, the back yard and, if I'm lucky, the vineyard. That will involve attaching Tasha's leash to my waist so I can carry a camera. I have a special leash thingy for that.

My favorite season

As far as sports go, my favorite season is pro tennis' clay court season. It runs from April through to the first week in June, culminating at Roland Garros, the French Open Grand Slam. Most of the tournaments are played in Europe, so I get to watch them on television in real time. This week, the guys are playing in Monte Carlo (an ATP Masters 1000 tournament) and the women just finished tournaments in Charleston, USA, and Bogota, Columbia.

Justine Henin prepares to serve at deuce, leading 2-1 in the second set. She eventually lost the match. Digited color slide, Spring 2001.

So, to celebrate the "dirtballers," here's a shot I took at the 2001 French Open women's semi-final on Center Court in Paris. This match was between Belgian compatriots Justine Henin and Kim Clijsters. Clijsters won and went on to face Jennifer Capriati (who we watched defeat Martina Hingis) in the final. Capriati won the championship.

Center Court, officially named Court Philippe Chatrier, has been almost completely rebuilt in recent years and now looks quite different. There's even a retractable roof that allows play to continue in rainy weather.

Les Invalides, again

This is a companion shot to yesterday's photo. After the crowd cleared out, I saw these folks enjoying the sun on the steps of the dôme. I've posted this photo before, but here it is again with a fresh retouching.

Relaxing on the steps of the dôme des Invalides. Digitized color slide, Spring 2001.

We're expecting a warm afternoon with the high temperature approaching 21ºC (almost 70ºF). It's going to feel like summer. Maybe this week I'll get the grass cut again.

Les Invalides

The southernmost portion of the Hôtel des Invalides complex is a desacralized royal chapel: le dôme des Invalides. Adjacent to the north is the Cathédral Saint-Louis-des-Invalides. Under the dome of the royal chapel is the tomb of Napoléon Bonaparte, a popular tourist attraction.

A group of tourists prepares to enter the dôme des Invalides. Digitized color slide, Spring 2001.

I had visited the tomb back in the early 1980s, so I felt no need to go into the church on this trip. I just snapped a few shots outside the entrance.

How green is my grass

The storm they named Diego (why does every low pressure system need a name?) came and went on Friday. It didn't seem as bad as they predicted, but that might just be because it was a day storm. Like I said, to me night storms seem worse. The past few days of rain have really made the grass grow. And it's so green.

One apple tree is full of blossoms, the other is just leaves. I'm ok with that.

We're expecting some warmer weather after the weekend. This morning it's a chilly 4ºC. When it warms up, the grass will grow even more. Time to mow again. In other news, I have tomato sprouts! And zucchini sprouts, too!

Ouch

This is part of the fence that encloses the small garden at the southwestern corner of the Invalides complex. The garden, constructed in 1980, is formally called le jardin de l'Intendant. It's based on a design from the 17th century that, I assume, was never completed. Wikipedia says that the origin of the name is uncertain. The word intendant refers to a steward or keeper of the finances of an institution or, in France specifically, one who was in charge of the building and maintenance of royal properties. Wikipedia suggests that the garden's original designer may have held that position.

I wouldn't want to get caught on that fence. Digitized color slide, Spring 2001.

We're having another wind storm today. This one is predicted to be windier and wetter than yesterday's. Oh joy. I do not like the wind. The good part is that it's a daytime storm and not an over-nighter. Night time storms give me the willies.

La tour Montparnasse

I've always liked the idea of this photo, but it didn't come out quite the way I thought it would. And I only took one. I could probably figure out where I was and try to take another (the next time I'm in Paris, lol), but it wouldn't be the same. The building has been changed and is changing again. Maybe it would be better. But, like they say, you can't go back again. Still, I like the ghost-like quality of the tower. It comes through better in black and white.

I also like how you can see people on the rooftop observation deck over the 56th floor.

Digitized color slide (although I took most of the color out in this version), Spring 2001.

The wind is howling this morning as it did through the night. We're having a storm. With rain. And it's my morning to go out with Tasha. It'll be a short walk.

A walk in the lower 7th

I think I was wrong yesterday about saying that one of the first things I did when we arrived in Paris was to take a walk over to Invalides. Based on the order of my slides, the first thing we did was to go to the tennis tournament. That must have been a Thursday, giving the women a day off between the semis and the final on Saturday. But let's pretend; I'll show photos of the walk first.

The top of the Eiffel Tower. Digitized color slide, Spring 2001.

Yesterday I drove up to a commercial zone (read: shopping center) just south of Blois. I finally ordered the new curtains for the living room after two years of waiting. We planned to do that in early 2020, then covid hit and we couldn't. Later, inertia set in and we just didn't get it together. But in recent weeks, we looked on line and learned how to take the measurements and we found a sheer that we liked. We decided not to order on line (in fact, the store we chose didn't offer that option) and just go up to the store to see the curtains in real life before ordering. They're non-returnable because they're custom made, so it seemed the prudent thing to do.

Turns out that I didn't like the curtains we saw on line. Too shiny. I found another sample that I liked and, although it was almost twice the price as the original, the store was offering 15% off, so I figured what the heck and went ahead. It's done now and the curtains should be ready in about three weeks. The process was easy and the sales rep was very nice.

I took advantage of being up there to stop at a big produce market for some good stuff. Tomatoes, avocados, broccoli, bok choy, and radishes, among other things. All in all, a successful morning.

On to Paris

We planned to spend the last few days of our Spring 2001 vacation in Paris. We had tickets on Center Court (Phillipe Chatrier) for the women's semi-finals at Roland Garros (The French Open). The hotel we chose was the Duquesne Eiffel, on the Avenue Duquesne near the Ecole Militaire métro station in the 7th arrondissement. This was the view from our street-side room.

The view from our hotel room. Digitized color slide, Spring 2001.

We were familiar with the neighborhood from past trips. Our friend Cheryl was staying at the Hôtel Muguet on the rue Chevert, a short walk away. Both hotels are close to the southern end of the rue Cler, a market street popular with tourists. Also not far is the Hôtel des Invalides and Napoléon's tomb. One of the first things I did after we arrived was to go out for a walk in that direction.

Parting glance

One last shot of the little house we rented in Vouvray. As I mentioned, the house was sold, along with the manor house across the street where the owner lived, not long after our 2001 stay. Since then, it's a private home.

The gîte in Vouvray. Digitized color slide, Spring 2001.

This morning is apparently the coldest we will have in this little wintry spell. The electricity folks are asking people to cut back their usage this morning to help reduce demand. It seems that a number of the country's nuclear generators are off-line for various reasons. We normally run appliances like the dishwasher, clothes washer, and water heater in the off-peak night hours, so there's nothing else we can do there. Most of the lights in the house are LED, so turning them off doesn't help much, either. I was planning to make pizza for lunch. The oven is electric. Uh-oh.

Good-bye, Vouvray

Our time in the Loire Valley wine town of Vouvray came to an end and we headed up to Paris for the remainder of our 2001vacation. That included a day at the French Open. More about that later.

A winery's tasting room in central Vouvray. Digitized color slide, Spring 2001.

We enjoyed the region so much that, when we decided to buy a house in France, the Loire Valley, and more specifically the small city of Amboise, is where we decided to look. The house we found is, of course, not in Amboise, nor is it on the Loire. But we're close, enjoying a more rural setting in the Cher River Valley.

Snowmageddon?

Hardly. Still, it snowed. We had some brief snow flurries on and off through the afternoon yesterday. Then, as I was coming home from the afternoon walk with Tasha, the flakes got big and it snowed pretty heavily for about ten minutes. Needless to say, there was no accumulation at all. But the snow was pretty while it fell.

Looking west out over the vineyards as the snow falls.

We had major progress on the contractor front yesterday. The deck guy's crew showed up on time (eight a.m.) and got to work on the garden shed. They installed two tie rods along two of the shed's walls to stabilize the building. Ça ne bougera plus, one of the guys said (It won't move any more). It took them about two hours (I'll get some photos when the weather improves). As they were leaving, their boss showed up with another colleague and they did a once-over of the underside of the deck. They're going to sandblast the old chipping paint off and re-do it as part of the renovation.

I took the opportunity to ask if he had an idea when we'd be scheduled. I asked if it would be a matter of weeks or a matter of months. He shook his head and said no, no, we're talking weeks. You'll have the deck done before summer. I hope he's right.

Covid did a number on the local contractors' schedules, as did the crappy weather we had last summer. Add to that the supply chain issues and you come up with two years of cascading delays. I'm hopeful this new flurry (!) of activity means that the contractor's got what he needs (namely the deck tiles we ordered) to get under way as the weather warms up.

Signs point to "yes"

I remember that old Magic 8-Ball answer popping up in the little window of the ball. I don't remember the others, but that one popped into the little window of my brain when I saw this photo again. I'm not sure where I took it, but it must be in or near the town of Montlouis, based on the other slides around it.  And that little cardboard "Montlouis en fête" sign is a big clue.

Directional signs at Montlouis on the Loire. Digitized color slide, Spring 2001.

The sky is clear so far this morning. No snow. But it is cold. Brrr. And the mornings will stay around freezing through the weekend, apparently. I'm back to building fires in the wood stove. They keep the living room comfy while reducing our heating fuel use.

The contractor that we engaged to renovate our deck stopped by yesterday afternoon. He and his crew are showing up this morning at 8h00, but not to start work on the deck. Among the other jobs we asked him to do is the repair of a rather large crack in the wall of the garden shed. That's what they're coming today to do. It's progress, for sure. I need to ask him (again) when he thinks the deck will get done. I'd probably have better results asking the Magic 8-Ball.