Strokes and Scrabble

By Bec
Last week Tuesday we visited my parents for dinner and a game of Scrabble and a chance to spend time with my brother and new sister-in-law. The visit extended to an overnight stay...and we just got back late last night. Somewhere amid the binkering and the banter and the tides of incoming and outgoing guests, both expected and otherwise (some cousins, my oma, some Koreans that used to live with us, a friend of my mom's that she has known for 34 years, dear friends from Papua New Guinea), we got a phone call asking us if we would be interested in painting a house. None of us have much experience in this area, but, always one for an adventure, my brother accepted the offer...and so the four of us had a job for the past week. We still don't know the name of the homeowner, but we can tell you any detail about his life: his job history, how old he is (79) when he quit smoking (1976) or how much he can lift (100 pounds over his head).It was originally supposed to be just the scraping and repainting of the trim and eves...but the homeowner liked how it looked so asked if we would paint the rest of the house...and then if we would do some parging...and then while we were at it if we would do some caulking and get rid of the bee hives that were on the roof. It was a truly enjoyable time to spend with each other and to enjoy the gift of work. The house itself was quite large, and the size of the task often seemed a bit daunting, but after a while it just became a matter of stroke by stroke, doing our jobs.
Much like living life.
And we won the game of Scrabble.