I'm sitting here outside. It is nice out in San Francisco. Almost like a warm midwest day, but not because San Francisco is in the West. It is still as if it was going to rain, but again, it will not because San Francisco doesn't do that a lot.
Our house is being re-built sort of, from the walls in. And posts up. We live on a hill, supported by high beams. They were recently re-done. Our house is also the very first "green" construction in the area. We think. It was built in 1930, so that gives it a leg up, doesn't it? Every time we go to remove the plywood from the walls to replace it with dry wall, we find recycled wood. I'm not too sure how I feel about that.
So here I am outside. I just sanded a bunch of joint compound and thought the dog and I needed fresh air. I see my neighbor has made some progress on her fence construction too. It is now a skeleton of a fence. I can't help but notice how symbolic it is. In a way, she could stop where she is now, and we would know that she doesn't want to come into our yard, or vise versa. But I guess the dog wouldn't know that. She's enjoying their yard emensely, and will be very upset when it is blocked off by their fence.
