There was no roaring concrete machine today, so Tina took up position on the back of a wagon carrying wood for Miller’s new home. I saw down on edge, and Tina crawled into my lap. We watched the workers together.

The children all kid me about how much I love Tina. I see they love teasing me. I will give it back.

She was incredibly affectionate today; we sat together for ten minutes or so, and then she got up when Moise came to sit next to me, eat his ice cream, and talk about the construction he is planning and the farms he might like to buy one day.

Moise is always thinking down the road. “I’ve got 13 children,” he said, “I’d like to find homes for them all around here.”

During construction periods, I try to come up every afternoon to see what’s going on and monitor the progress. Moise and his sons are gracious about explaining everything they are doing to me, and I am learning a great deal about construction.

I am always amazed at how much they all know and have learned just through the process of building things all of their lives. On hot days, I try to bring ice cream, ice cubes (to cool the ice cream), and soda. They love Root Beer and Mountain Dew; both give them energy.

They love anything with sugar in it.

My boot program is finally on track. I brought Moise his size ten rubber boots, and he said they fit perfectly, which is the equivalent of raving about them for some people. In the next two days, Little Sarah (size 4) and Barbar (size 7)6 will get their boots.

I am very happy that everyone in the family who needs boots will have them shortly. If they asked for them, they pay me back. If it was my idea, I pay for the boots.

I’m still bartering with them for necklaces and bracelets to bring to the Bishop Maginn High School students and Mansion residents who love them.

Moise loves to joke that the best way to get into a boot is to crawl through a hole. Everybody laughs.

I’m bringing two other boots to a second Amish family a few miles away; I’m told they need them.

Moise sat and ate his ice cream and drank his Mountain Dew.

Foundations are brutish, hard work. I can see his back is hurting him, but I didn’t ask him about it. I don’t want to be his Mother. We are finding time again together to talk about things, his life and mine.

I enjoy it. I told him I’ll be gone tomorrow to get my bandages out; I’d check in again later in the week. His mind is firmly entrenched in his foundation.

When I left, Tina was snoring next to the pile of lumber.  Two of the toddler grandchildren came up to her and tried to put a leash on her. It didn’t go well. Eventually, Tina just grabbed it from them, ran off, and dropped it in the woods.

I love that dog. But I do know she really isn’t the dog for me. Zinnia, my Sweet Queen, follows me everywhere and lies by my feet whenever I write. I can’t imagine Tina doing that.