Marcos, from Punta Laurel, has been here daily, cutting lumber for my bodega/water catchment/guest house on top of the hill. I have been filled with awe daily as I watch the entire process of trees transforming into building lumber. Marcos carefully fells each tree making certain it doesn't hit the good trees, then cuts it into sections either 6 or 10 foot in length. With an unfathomable precision, he uses a fishing hook and line which he dips into oil and then measures and marks each tree in preparation to cut the lumber to specification: 4x4x6 for posts; 4x4x6 for sills; 2x4x6 for joists and 2x4x10 for studs. How cool is that!

I had four Indian men level the building site last week, and one day this week, they will begin digging post holes as the next step in this building process. I am a little nervous about this -it is the first thing I have ever built. In truth, the construction books don't seem like an adequate replacement for experience, which I admittedly lack.

There is a part of me which wishes I didn't have to work so hard, physically, to build my world here - in fact - I reflect upon that at least once every three days. This is hard, there is no doubting that...however, if I want to build my dream, then I have to extend the energy. This sure is a far cry from the days of dining at Circa, wearing outrageously expensive clothes and singing along at Costello's piano bar in Wilmington. Those days were special in their own way, another life - hard to believe it was mine, especially as I look at my hands now. Ugh!

It is time to head up the hill to mark the post locations before my workers show up to dig. If only Rita would stop chewing on my ankles. I don't know what has gotten into her, but she is making things difficult!