The boatshop is about to give birth to twins. Fraternal twins–same womb, different parents.
Rio Rojo is awaiting a few fancy parts that should be here tomorrow (today–it somehow got to be 2 a.m. again). She got her adjustable footbrace today and I did the scary long bolt holes that hold the oarstand block to the gunwales. Weatherstripping went on and a lot of touch-up, sanding of fuzzy spots, etc/ went down during the day. And I finally got all the hatch lids to open and close cleanly and the latches to latch firmly. This all amazes me. The big brass plates for the oarstands should be ready mid-morning and, with luck, I can actually make it fit on the boat.
Jim spent the day sanding gunwales and chines for installation tomorrow, and grinding down the hull and part of himself.
Somehow this morning I got into what, in chickens, is called displacement activity. Chickens, when they feel insecure or threatened, peck at their feet. I cleaned up the shop. I did a bit more tidying this evening after gooping and painting Rojo. And I got to thinking how odd it feels to know that my boatbuilding season, which has been going pretty non-stop manically since November, ends on Tuesday. In forty hours. Rojo goes out the door, and I finish loading Moe and Juan for a Glen Canyon adventure Wednesday through Saturday. And then it is off to the Guides Training Seminar. And then downriver over and over until mid-October. Wow. No wonder I’m pecking at my feet.