Remember this?

And how it became this?

For a few days it was this:

For a (long) time it was this:

Then this happened:

And just two days ago, this:

And the fact that, despite the lack of paint or a sink or countertops or even cupboard doors (to say nothing of half of a floor) I'm this excited about this photo says way more about my state of mind than about the kitchen.

Seriously. Where's the tequila?

Afternoon sun on the bluff:

Morning light at the lake:

Where some clouds rolled in...

And at the coast, rolled out:

Autumn just keeps on coming:

And of course, there are dogs in motion.

Really? It's already flea market time??

Apparently so, and if you're in the neighborhood on Sunday, it's worth a visit. There's always something to buy, things to long for, odd and interesting people to watch, and every year the size and scope of the event, as well as the actual stuff for sale (and, of course, the traffic and parking behavior) all tell you something about the state of our world.

Also, may I take this opportunity to say Yahoo's new version of Flickr is STILL AWFUL?

Thank you.

Windy here today and heating up, sunlight glazed, the Pacific whipped to foam. We've got both doors open in the barn and the breeze moves through, restless, finding edges, finding dust, finding a million ways to say this isn't summer.

I actually have some pretty great photos to share but first, omg, I just can't stop laughing at this one from our walk today where Maisie looks like a wild piglet and Walt's all Rastafarai.

Shall we get a bit closer?

Seriously -- O.M.G.

I didn't realize until I downloaded the photos that in addition to this young doe, I also got a shot of her fawn. He (she?) is there on the left, in the shadows.

We've been seeing them all summer, part of a little herd of deer who move through the area. The fawn, who used to be so small, has grown remarkably in recent weeks. What's the right word now -- yearling? Dearling?

Loving the change of the seasons here in the mountains where daytime heat has no chance against the evening chill and the hues shift ever further down the color wheel.

So Walt gets neutered and the instructions from our vet are to keep him quiet for a few days, to which I can only say, have you met this dog? But we do the best we can here at Casa del Remodel, which means Walt's running and jumping and wrestling with Maisie, but only half as much, which is still A LOT so of course I'm worried and at one point I roll him over to check his stitches and there it is, in the middle of his groin, swelling. Edema, I think, from an infection. A neighbor says to take Walt to the vet just to be sure so I do and as Dean's getting the little guy onto his back, I'm pointing and explaining what it is I saw, to which Dean says, as nicely as he can (and without laughing too hard) "Um, Veronique? That's not an infection -- that's an erection."

Oh. Well. Never mind.

This morning it was summer, this afternoon it's fall. (The seasonal switch comes at 1:44 p.m.) And to everyone who (still) says we have no seasons here in SoCal, I (still) say, just open your eyes.

Plan B.

(Kidding.)

(I hope.)

Full moon last night, the harvest moon, I'm told. So bright, the house was glowing.

Restless, everyone restless, wandering cats, howling coyotes, the dogs clicking on the hardwood floors.

Crummy photo, just the point-and-shoot with the ISO amped up but still, that moon, the water, that path. You can feel it, the silence. Well, almost.

So, regarding the question above, I suspect the answer is...maybe. But it's cloudy today and the light's kind of muddy and seriously, two dogs in one bed?

Extenuating circumstances. Right? (And yes, there's still drywall mud on the floor.)

If I were a true naturalist I would know the name of the gulls like this one, who pair up with pelicans and steal the hard-earned food right out of their mouths.

They're waiting for the moment the pelican, fresh from a deep dive, tosses its catch from its pouch and down its gullet. It's an unguarded instant during which the gull snatches the catch in midair, robs the big bird of its prize.

Here's our pelican friend, getting ready to hopscotch over the gull and take off. My favorite part of the shot is that splash of water and the pelican's feet, flat and wide, poised to slap the water and splash the gull and, for a moment anyway, fly free of freeloaders.

Of all the boats that moored in the Cove this summer, for some reason this is the one that got me. I think it's the colors, red hull, pink kayak, turquoise paddle board, so bright against all that blue.

What color are those sails, I wonder? And what does the sea sound like out there at night? I can picture dolphins in the wake, pelicans circling. There's a hammock somewhere, I bet. And a star chart.

See what I mean? It got me.

Walt had the operation today, you know, that operation, the one guys can't talk about without flinching. Honestly, it upsets me too, but that's the price of being a good doggie citizen. So because here at the house everyone misses him, how about a few Walt photos?

Like, Walt behind the wheel, ready to roll already.

Or Walt ready for food.

REALLY ready.

Or how about Walt waiting for the crew to come back and share their food?

No rush. He's a patient guy.

He likes the new wood floors, btw.

And, of course, there's this, Walt instigating MaLt, aka the Walt and Maisie show.

Yes, that's drywall dust and debris because -- have I mentioned? -- we are under construction. FOREVER!!!

omg the teeth!

Now I miss him more than ever.

So, the beach. Ahhh...

Also, dogs on the beach.

Walt's getting the hang of things.

And he still moves way too fast to photograph.

A response to relentless building and developing and mansionizing and genfrifying (not everyone here thanks Larry Ellison for turning our only beachy dive, the PierView, into another chichi eatery) going on in Malibu.

An evening with reggae legend and Rock and Roll Hall of famer Jimmy Cliff -- not a bad way to close out the Santa Monica pier's Twilight Concert series. (Get ready for some grainy photos shot at ISO 3200.)

Lord it was crowded. Lots of people on the pier, even more on the beach. You didn't walk as much as surge along to find fight for a spot on the sand.

Look -- Jimmy!

He and the band played for more than an hour. (Hum "The Harder They Come" and you get the picture.)

A sea breeze stirred the flags--

..as the Ferris wheel turned

...and the roller coaster glowed--

...and a really creepy red-and-green drone flew and hovered and filmed the crowd from overhead.

Just last week I posted a photo on how HOWS Market--

...had slowly--

...transformed into the future home of an Erehwon Natural Foods.

Too slowly, as it turns out. According to this week's Malibu Times, due to repeated construction delays, Erehwon has changed its mind.

"Unfortunately ... delays of the development of the shopping center have caused the issue," Erewhon CEO Tony Antoci told The Malibu Times on Wednesday last week. "[The store] was supposed to open six months ago."

As of Monday the exterior infrastructure and pilings were completed in the 16,000-square-foot space, but interior floorings and furnishings were yet to be installed.

With Erewhon out of the picture, the leasing agent for the center has vowed to have a grocery store in place by January 2014.

"It's going to be better than Erewhon," said leasing agent Tony Dorn.

While Dorn would not name a potential replacement, plenty of rumors have been floating around town. Many residents are crossing their fingers for Trader Joe's or Sprouts, while others have heard that the Trancas Center owners will attempt to open their own grocery store. Center co-owner Paige Dubbert is the daughter of Walmart heiress Nancy Walton Laurie. Dorn and Scott Rozier, who is overseeing the renovation and expansion of the shopping center, refused to comment on those rumors.

It's all of five miles to Pavilions at Point Dume, and another five to Ralphs. Not exactly a food desert.

They went up over the weekend at along PCH at Pepperdine and though it's a stunning display, it's today that they resonate the most. One flag for every life lost in the September 11 attacks.

Ryan Sawtelle came up with the idea and after a year and a half of planning, he and a few friends raised the flags for the first time in 2008. On September 10, just the lawn. On September 11, with no warning, all those flags.

This year, the annual Ride to the Flags takes place on September 14. Another of Ryan's ideas. Check the site for specifics.

I know it's just a lull, that temps are supposed to spike again this weekend, but oh how wonderful to find the lake all but invisible this morning:

For a little while, anyway.

Can you see it, that tiny line of rain dropping from the cloud, only to evaporate in mid-air?

So far today here at the coast, very cool thanks to the clouds that rolled in soon after sunrise. How odd to be thinking about a sweater.

The light started like this:

And spread:

And grew:

And then the sun rose:

Walking in Santa Monica with the Muffinhead the other day when we came across this beleaguered rose garden. You can see the hard work that went in -- cutting the sod, digging the bed, choosing and planting the right roses.

Um, make that rose. Why just one?

And then I saw the sign:

Signs, actually. Underneath you can see where someone tried the "you're on camera, you rotten scoundrel" trick. I'm guessing it didn't work.

As someone presently on the losing end of a fight with garden thieves, I feel Ron's pain. And admire his chutzpah in actually signing his sign.

If only the infernal rodents gophers up at the barn could read.

Hot up at the barn, uncomfortably hot, with dogs camped out in the wading pool and hummingbirds at war near the feeder. The slightest breeze, so faint it feels like a false alarm, carries the scent of baking sage up from the depths of the canyon.

Remember this, our sorta indie, slightly funky, mostly wonderful neighborhood store? (And omg LOOK at the Plymouth! How I miss it...)

Now it's this:

"This' being Erewhon, the yupscale organic market that's on the way.

What are the chances Erewhon will revive the wonderful Thursday-through-Sunday tri-tip barbecue stand tradition?

Yeah, didn't think so.

Such a treat this morning -- a sunny beach. Soft breeze, briny scent, no one on the sand. That's the post-Labor Day feeling, having Malibu back again.

Still cool, which these days means anything under 85 degrees.

You know who else was celebrating? MaLt!

Aka Maisie and Walt.

No matter who catches it...

He always winds up with the ball.

So we're near the Chama River, headed north in northern New Mexico when Maggie, who has been scanning the road for the last mile or so, stops the car, points and says "There."

And by "there", she meant a telephone pole topped by the biggest nest I've ever seen.

It's an osprey nest, and just as I was thinking wow, what could be more amazing, this happened:

Yeah, way more amazing.

We watched for a while, the osprey gliding and circling, a fledgling in the nest screaming bloody murder when the parent got too far away.

National Geographic says ospreys (they have six-foot wing spans and can live 30 years) were among the birds that nearly went extinct during the DDT binge of the 1950s.

Nice to see a bit of human technology helping for a change.

First, fog, lots and lots of fog along the coast this morning:

Also, a dog. Little Walt, on his first solo walk in Bluffs Park:

And my favorite part -- bubbles, at the annual Labor Day picnic at one of my favorite places in the city, Village Green.

With each of these remodeling projects there comes the moment when, no matter how you've planned or prepared, there's a collapse. Mine.

Where's the front door, the pretty, Craftsman-y front door that replaced the original plastic (I kid you not) Tiki (ditto) one that was here when I bought this place?

Hidden, behind most of the living room furniture.

How about the kitchen?

Actually, I'm in luck -- the guys built me a sink stand from plywood and an old cupboard door. And look -- they left enough space between the radial arm saw and the stove that we can cook!

Speaking of which, here's how part of last night's dinner got made.

Yes, that's the microwave. In the hall.

The irony is the paint going on and the hardwood going in are the biggest transformations, the moment when a remodel turns the corner, zooms down the hill to the finish. (Did I just mix a metaphor?) (What I want is to mix a margarita.)

Whoopee?