Day two

Day two: power washing and then more scraping, since the power washing shows the areas where I missed. More sanding, too – the small deck out back, and the weathered spots on the hot tub. 

Riley wants to come out and help. He can help by not coming out. He always has to be in the way, whatever we’re doing. “Hey, what’s going on? Wouldn’t this be going better if you had a dog underfoot? Everything goes better with a dog underfoot.”

Sanded, power washed, scraped and ready for the next phase. So, Saturday evening we thought things were going pretty well. Then things got all Second Amendment-y. 

Around 8 p.m. we heard what we thought were fireworks, but after a few minutes we realized we were hearing gunfire. It was a little too close for comfort - whizzing through the trees in our back yard. There isn't much behind our house but wilderness - trees and rocky land climbing up into the Mission Mountains. 

It was hard to tell exactly where the shots were coming from, but they seemed to be from the direction of Boulder Mountain, just to the southeast of our house. That's tribal land, with limited access. You're supposed to have a tribal permit just to be in that area, and you sure as hell aren't supposed to be shooting the place up. We figured someone thought that would be a good remote place for some target practice, not realizing that people freaking LIVE where they were shooting. 

The shooting kept up, so Dean finally called the cops. They never got back to us, so we don't know if they even checked it out. 

I'm used to keeping an eye out for bears around here. Dean saw one cross the road on his way to work the other day about a mile from our house. But I'm not ready to have to wear bullet-proof armor just to step outside.