A remodeling/construction rep came by our house last week. I wasn’t home, out walking or something. Ed rarely says okay to these people so I guess she was cute because he let her arrange for a guy to give us an estimate on paving the pool deck and he came by yesterday. The deck has been an eyesore for some time. The paint has worn off, there are huge mold stains everywhere. I feel sure that my dismay at this sore sight has kept me from using the pool all summer – that and having to shower and moisturize afterward (I am really lazy about stuff like that.)

Anyway, Ed, who is notoriously cautious about entering into major expenditures, signed a contract. I am beside myself. Here is the thing – we have 60 feet of glass looking out onto the deck, with the lawn and bay just beyond the cage. (Down here a cage or fence is mandatory to avoid killing random children – basically not a problem for me personally since I think people should watch their kids – but who wants to get nailed?) Re-doing the pool deck will change the entire look of the house. It will suddenly be really luxurious. No longer will we be next to a mold pool. I can’t stand it.

The next step is that a fellow will come by with paving stones corresponding with what I chose out of the catalog (rust and gray mix in three different sizes that will be comingled to form wonderful geometric patterns). After I confirm that this works (he may also bring alternate samples), they will set a start date. It may all take a month or a bit more or less.

My wish list includes paving the driveway, and remodeling the bathrooms and the kitchen but, by far, this is the most visibly, esthetically necessary, project of the three and when I tell you that rebuilding my piano is also on the wish list, you will see how much it means to me that I chose the pool deck. It is a daily downer. Of all my senses, visual and audio dominate my life.

The other really cool thing was that the rep, a 62-year old fellow, former Navy Seal, great to talk with, thought I was awesome to the point where Ed dragged out an old photo of me. It was taken when I was 40, sitting on a concrete walkway next to the beach. Well, a picture is worth 1,000 words, so here it is.




He was suitably appreciative. Sigh. And when I said those were my foxy days, he said all the right things. Come back please. Orange juice? Dip in the pool? Name it, big guy.

xx, Teal