Thursday, July 22, 2010

The To Do-ne list (the fence, the Rotty and the donga)

1. The manly fencing has been completed, so Conan the Rottweiler, our granddog, has moved in. This is fine and dandy, except for one, small, minor loophole...THERE’S NO GATE YET!
Part of the manly fence
One Rotty

I suppose it was sort of a trade off . One shoe box size suburban fenced yard VS a couple of fenced acres to run around on with one loophole.
One Rotty and one loophole

2. The large palm tree to the side of our driveway (no photo), a transplanted victim of torrential rains, has been straightened from an embarrassing 45 degree angle to a more acceptable 5 degree tilt. I can live with this. Now it looks like it’s permanently blowing in a gentle westerly wind and not bowing in a category 5 cyclone.

3. Stray’s next major To Do, after affixing a gate...

The beginning of affixing the gate...NB. Big post being held by big backhoe. Rotty in foreground. the veranda on the side of our house...he has to build one. And how does Bundy feel about this latest Rotty arrival?

Say no more!

Needless to say he spent most the evening on our roof, poised like a tower guard at Stalag 13 without the spotlight and the rifle.

4. Me, when I take on the title of 'lady of leisure' in a couple of weeks, the first event on my social calendar is to inspect and determine what the hell is going on with the Donga floor. Termite infestation? Dry Rot? Alien invasion?

What’s a donga you ask? It can be many things: The obvious mispelt male anatomical part, a ditch formed by the erosion of soil, a film produced by the cinema of Andhra Pradesh, a form of stick fighting, or in this case, a transportable building (or a modified, back off a refrigeration truck) often used on remote work sites (backyards) or as tourist (teenage daughters) accommodation. Akin to a bungalow, less the palm frond thatched roof and views of the ocean. Donga! Possibly derived from the Papua New Guinean word for ‘house’.
Not a Donga!

When our eldest, CJ, was about fifteen and when I was the sole breadwinner, we couldn’t afford to build on extra bedrooms. Bedroom wise our house is small and for some reason the girls no longer wished to share a room, let alone bunk beds. So after a trip to a builders auction, arranging transport, carpet and the connection of electricity...hey presto! One teenager’s retreat and our sanity fairly barely intact for the next few years. CJ, despite all of her bravado, was a bit of a chicken and migrated was deported to the donga with her clothes under one arm and her younger sister, LJ, under the other. In hind sight, I think LJ was being blackmailed (imprisoned) into staying....hmmmm, perhaps it had something to do with that ashtray I found hidden in a clothes drawer?

Anyway, CJ painted...
...decorated (a sloth theme)...

...and even planted succulents outside in the concrete blocks that run along its length.

It was a perfect solution, not too close and not too far away. As their music got louder my ‘it’s time for dinner’ shouts were heard less, so it wasn’t uncommon for me to call them on their mobile phones, and them, me. This had nothing to do with CJ receiving a notice from her phone service provider, stating she as abusing the ‘Fair Go Policy’ pertaining to free timed calls = 19 minutes 59 seconds, hang up and redial, 19 minutes 59 seconds, hang up and redial, 19 minutes 59 seconds, hang up and redial, 19 minutes 59 seconds, hang up and get the idea.

Nor did it contribute to CJ receiving a bill equivalent to two months of weekend work and on receiving the second, yelled and screamed at me because I hadn’t confiscated her phone the first time. Your typical can’t win, can’t win situation.

Since her and LJ’s departure from home, donga included, it has served as my blackboard workshop, up until the day a gremlin took up residence in the electrical wiring. Soon it will be housing some of our much loved boxed belongings in our absence...that is, after I assess (confirm what has taken up residence in) and repair its floor.