Waiting...

Yesterday turned out to be the most beautiful, warm and sunny day we've had for awhile.  There was a Veterans Day parade in town--which we didn't know about until it was too late--but there was also to be a flyover of fighter jets around the same time.  I figured if we walked up our road to the dead-end, I would have a sweeping view of Roseburg, and just might be able to take a photo.

I have managed, twice, to get some really amazing shots of fighter planes.  Once, Alan, my sister and I were at Urquhart Castle.  I had my camera in hand just as a fighter plane streaked down Loch Ness.  Another time, Alan and I were headed into the Highlands and stopped at the Queen's View--totally beautiful gorge and loch--and again, camera in hand I caught two fighters as they blazed below us, following the contour of the land like a scene out of Top Gun.  I figured no problem then, taking a photo of something I was not only expecting, but I also had the best vantage point in all of Roseburg.

We walked up the road, sat on a little stone wall, let Ozzy roam around the hillside, and waited.  And waited.  The sun was very warm, it was clear and sunny, so no hardship to wait.  I said to Alan at one point this was just typical of the military:  Hurry up and wait.

Here are some shots of Roseburg, around 11:30am.  There was a mist in the far mountains, but that just added to the contrast.  These first two photos are panoramic and holy crap, I actually got them to load side-by-side..!!  Course, they're so small, you can't see anything, but dang...a panorama...!!!



Another shot, this time a reasonable size.

More waiting, until finally, after about 45 minutes, we had to give up.  I was antsy to get back to writing since I have to do at least 2K per day to reach the halfway point by Sunday.  Nearly an hour later, Alan said, "I think I hear the planes."  By the time I jumped up from the computer and dashed to the front deck, they were already gone.  Ah well.  At least I got a few nice shots of Roseburg on an unexpectedly summer-like day in November.

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The painter guys are totally finished with everything, except for the never-ending saga of the garage floor, so they washed all the windows before they left for the day.  The big ones (the ones miles from the ground, and way too high for our domestic ladder), needed washing desperately--I don't think the elderly couple had ever had them cleaned--and suddenly, from the inside of the house, it was like seeing clearly after laser eye surgery.  What a difference.  The view is even better than before, if that's possible.

The frigging  garage floor, for some unknown reason, won't take the paint and/or sealant.  The guys sand the floor, roll on the primer and overnight it bubbles and cracks.  Over and over, for weeks now, they've tried every trick in the book, to no avail.  Today they are determined to get it done.  Course, that still doesn't mean it will work, and if by some miracle it does, it has to harden and completely dry for several days, so we won't have the garage back until sometime next week.  I'm waiting with fingers crossed for that day.

I'm really tired of all the work, the mess, the aggro that has been ongoing since the day we moved into this house.  I try to tell myself that it will all be worth it in the end.  So far?  Not working.  Apparently I'm not a very convincing speaker.