Yesterday began week three of the renovation project in our house.  So far the water lines have been replaced. That, to our surprise, was the easy part. Four days and it was done. 

We're now in the door-widening and roll-in shower phase, and it's turning out to be slightly more involved than we'd anticipated.  Demolition was a breeze.  It helped that we, with the house sans water, were staying in a hotel at the time. I admit that.

Nothing has gone particularly wrong, mind you.  It's just messy.  And, once one snafu happens everything gets pushed a few hours, or half a day, or an entire day, or two days (or more?) down the line.  

So, the project didn't finish up last Friday.  The painter cannot come until the door frames are built.  The door frames have to wait on the flooring folks.  The bathrooms won't have lights until the painter has painted. The shower won't have glass until everyone else clears out.

Tal and I continue camping upstairs.The only downstairs room I am even remotely taking care of, out of necessity, is the kitchen. Everything else is, well, askew. Sort of like this crooked photograph of the terrace pavers out back. Our ordered existence is unordered. 

The man who installed those pavers insists, random as it looks, there's a pattern.  I suppose, random as it seems at the moment to Tal and me, there's a logical schedule being followed in our house. Progress, however noisy, dusty and haphazard-seeming, is being made.

All this commotion is beginning to make Tal a little fretful, though.  The guest room is comfortable, but he wants to sleep in his bed. And, he really wants not to have to climb that flight of stairs once or twice a day. I am a little tired of washing the same three outfits for each of us -- not to mention wearing those same three outfits. 

But, we are holding up. We're not obsessing. We're not sorry we undertook the work. This time of inconvenience is not the end of the world. 

Fact is, we are having all this done so that home will be more convenient and safe.  The trade-off is being askew for a time.

The morning walk continues, today marking the beginning of week five. I've established a routine of sorts:

The hilly roads of Golden Hills one day, the worn and uneven cart paths on the golf course the next. Alternate pairs of shoes day-by-day. Most importantly, I always I tuck the cell phone in my pocket and leave a phone within reach of Tal as he finishes his night's sleep: a mere three button presses and he would have me on the phone with him were he to need me.  

The phone hasn't rung, but it is turning out to be useful. For recording stunning scenes like this one, a view that set the tone for the entire day. Nothing -- not any glitch in the construction schedule, not a list of things to do that would take way more than one day, not an argumentative solicitation caller.  While I remain a devoted DSLR user along with the array of lenses at my disposal, it's a walk intended for exercise and to clear my head. Things are heavy without a heavy camera, too.

It was a good day from beginning to end. It's almost finished. The sky in the west lovely, but not as dramatic as at the start of the day. What, I wonder, will I witness tomorrow morning?  

Tal and I are living in a construction zone. Doors -- four of them -- are being widened. A garden tub and shower stall are becoming a generous roll-in shower. The bedroom, now thickly carpeted, will soon be smooth hardwood.

Demolition has passed. The builder is in the putting-it-all-back-together phase. Everyone -- the various workers as well as us homeowners -- is cheerful.

Tal and I are staying in the guest room where neither of us has spent any time in the two years we have lived in this house. I clean it between guests. That's all.

For me, staying in that room, especially waking up in that room, is like living in a different house. The master bedroom windows look out onto the terrace and our neighbor's screened porch. The guest room is upstairs (tricky for Tal, I'm sad to say) has a lovely set of double windows facing east. 

I am taken by the light play in that room and find myself climbing the stairs simply to see what it's doing at various times of day.  Take a look.

I'm only slightly tempted to get preachy here.  I could write about reading between the lines, about what we see depending largely on our angle of view, about taking in the whole picture -- or not, about the patterns we play out through our lives, about truth or untruth seeping into consciousness. 

I'd rather leave our construction zone as is this afternoon.  I'd rather take the photographs at face value.  I'd rather simply let what this set of blinds reveals at different times of day be.

Tal received a Fitbit for Christmas, a suggestion from his physical therapist as a way to track steps and learn about sleep patterns.  Since then Tal began using a ventilator at night. Now, his sleep is regular and restful.  The Fitbit doesn't seen to record steps very well when its user is leaning on a walker.  Hum.

To the top of the dresser it went.  Another collector of dust. Until ...

A month ago I decided I would begin walking each morning.  For exercise. To clear my mind. None of my go-to excuses exerted their usual power. On the first Monday in July I set out. To bad it took me a week to think about that abandoned black bracelet.  So, it wasn't until the 13th that I charged the Fitbit and put it on.  In the 19 days between then and the end of the month I walked 108 miles. 

The best time to head out is between 6:00 and 6:15. I get to watch the light rise, to see the sun come up, to engage our neighborhood as people begin to move. It's a great time of day.     

There are two pairs of shoes I alternate morning-by-morning now. I'm kind of interested in how many miles I might walk during August. I think I'm hooked.

Stay tuned.