Neighbors with a tractor

Where I live is a little area of seven houses with acreage around a designated wetland area.  Recently, one neighbor lost his home to the bank.  A couple bought the house, which was in very bad repair, and for a ridiculously low price.  They have put alot of work into it since buying it - I hear chainsaws and big vehicles over there.  They are across the pond, so to speak, so only get glimpses when they leave their driveway but the other day I thought I saw a TRACTOR roll by.  Tractors make me giddy.  I need to rent one about once a year, and that usually runs me $400 for 4 hours.  Ouch. 

Driving home with one of my kids, the new neighbor was driving his garbage can to the street with said Kubota.  I put my car in park and ran out to meet him.  I don't know what he thought, but he seemed cautious and kept telling me about his girlfriend. Obviously, he cannot tell the difference between a woman hitting on him and a woman giddy over the prospect of tractor labor for free, or more accurately the cost of diesel and some baked goods.  He mellowed out when he realized I was solely focused on the orange machine he was driving and offered to come over and haul compost around my yard.  What! Of course you can be neighborly in such a manner! He was a super nice guy, as all my neighbors have turned out to be.  My neighbors: there is Cal, the gatekeeper to our community.  Literally, his house is at the main road and he keeps an eye out on the cars traversing our road.  There is the skilled carpenter and his family, she has had their house in a magazine for her design skills.  There are my retired neighbors who bring me fresh salmon, clams and most recently smoked salmon.
Don and Jan, probably my faves due to proximity.  I know them the best, too. Somewhat hardcore christians, not the mellow loving type - there is that undercurrent of fanaticism.  Jan told me God gave me the stroke so I would turn toward Him. I didn't have the heart to say that I don't believe in a God that would be so small minded and angry. That being said they are there in a heartbeat.  She prayed for my horse Bey when he was trying to colic.  I can only think that helped.  Two other families live here also, both friendly. I kinda lucked out on all of them.  And I get to add to the mix: nice couple with the tractor.

Garage electrical

My neighbor came over and offered to rewire my garage with a friend visiting from Africa. His friend wants to learn everything he can so I guess they decided my garage was a good candidate.  I know he is familar with the inadequacies of the garage, as the previous owner and he were friends. And the previous owner was very creative with home repairs.  After I bought the house, he told me he had cut electrical lines in the yard to the pond and all outside lighting because he knew they would not pass inspection. 
All  I need is to get an electrician out to find out how it is powered --where the lines are buried from the house and update that-- and he will do the rest.
Neighbors are good.

Hydrangea outside my front door. This is the first it has bloomed in a couple years. Previously we would have a cold snap at an inopportune time and freeze all the wee blooms off. Not this year! 

Drive-in in the middle of nowhere

We discovered the strangest thing when we were checking out the kids school options two years ago. In between the two schools down an unidentified dirt road was a perfectly designed drive-in 50's style diner. Literally, you are walking from the middle school to the high school down a rough gravel road, and boom, there it was behind a locked fence. I just stood on the other side and said : huh. Weird place for a restaurant. In the middle of nowhere, with no advertising on the main road, and no apparent business. It was a mystery until this year, when I was at school early to pick up Wilder and they were having a school emergency drill outside. It looked like it was going to be a while, so I wandered down the path and found the diner again. This time the gate was unlocked, great! I walked down to look in the windows. An energetic man and calm woman gestured me in. Before I knew it, I was getting a tour of the building... which was 10,000 square feet. Way way bigger than it looks on the outside. He had memorabilia from the last 100+ years laying about... on tables, on shelves. The owner told me he rents it out for events. There was a dancing room, game room, room with classic cars, soda fountain, juke box and booths. It was a surreal experience. I went home and looked it up online: http://www.mygirldrivein.com/ and saw what it looks like all lit up in neon. The owner created a diner on a rural patch of land to hold his personal collection. It has never been a working restaurant, nor a public museum. I will say it again: huh.

School started

Photo: This wierd little building is in the middle of the horse field. No idea what it was, probably some sort of playhouse.

No, we are not in such a rural area that this is related to their schooling... for some reason this is just the picture I chose for today. Probably because it is another project for me to tackle. Sigh.

The kids are off to school. Wilder in middle school, Rose now a Sophomore. She calls herself an upperclassman with attitude. I guess it is not fun being a freshman? Who knew. I don't remember that sort of thing. The kids recently visited their great aunt and uncle who purchased them some snazzy school duds. Wilder has been wearing his new clothes with flair.

I have been trying to clean out their closets of unused, too-small clothing. I miss our former neighbors with the kids who were staggered ages so we would just hand off clothing to each other. Rose's too smalls went to Emily, Wilder was on the receiving end of Nick's.

That worked out so well I didn't buy a shirt for Wilder for two years! I have to work on my neighboring skills here. I have lost my steam and am in my own little world.

Hey! have tackled a new project, the chicken coop roof! I will share pics soon. I will also just note that nothing NOTHING I tackle is as easy as I think it will be.

Blessed neighborly neighborliness

Photo: Wilder pointing out the one true path to God Wilder has been invited to born-again christian camp by our neighbor. She stopped by today, and told me she had been praying for my mother and her brand new hip and invited Wilder to god training... I mean summer camp. In the context of a 2-D page of writing it does not come across that I actually like my neighbors. I do. People believe what they believe for reasons that are allover the map. I am always curious how they get where they get in the spiritual world... but really, as long as it is not the hate-spewing, fearandcrap-mongering religions I could give a rip what people believe. If it makes it easier for one to navigate an unsteady or uncomfortable world... go for it. My neighbors are gentle and open people, who will help me or the kids in a lickity split. We will never probably talk god or politics... that is why I have my Jehovah Witness, Poppy(!) but they are next to me and somewhat less judgemental than other various pyschotic passive aggressive NW neighbors I may or could have. Even with the god quotient. Plus, a bonus for me, I LOVE being told I am being prayed for, or God Bless Me, or whatever little religious bon mot (how do you spell that??) comes out of her mouth. I can handle her religion, because it is seamless with her life.
Re: Wilder... I am giving him the option for camp. His sister is flippin' out. She has had bad experiences with the more wicked (stupid) side of religious zealotry on her schoolbus, and now is anti-religion, as only a teenager can be. This too shall pass.
Re: Grandma. Two hips down, two knees to go. Everyone reading this: take care of your ankles, knees, hips. It is not FUN to do this surgery or recovery. On a lighter note, we are going to start calling her Grandma Bionic for all her metal and mechanisms at her joints. Wilder will probably call her Grandma Bionicle... gotta have boys to get that one....

Birthday story of long ago

Well, birthday story of three years ago. It is the season of birthdays in our house, Wilder on the 28th of May, Rose on the 5th of June. That makes for action packed weekends around our place. I lived through Wilder's party of boys, and one girl... plus his sister. Lots of yelling and sugar rushing.
This weekend will be at least a dozen fifteen year-olds whooping it up around the house. Yikes. But girls are easier? Or at least there are less fart and burp jokes.
I was wondering if they were all going to go out after hours to the gravel pit and get all dirty sliding around on their rears... and was reminded when we lived in Seattle next to a large park and beach. For Rose's birthday we thought we would go the park in the dark to the beach... such excitement for a bunch of 12 year-olds. My next door neighbor was walking down with us also. 12 year old girls being naturally squeally we thought they could get their hollering out of their system at the beach and through the forest before I was trapped in a house with them overnight. So halfway down the trail said friend disappears ahead of us down a trail. We head down the main road toward the beach, me and a dozen girls. It is dark. Evergreen trees leaning over the road. The gals are clustered around me as we hike down the hill to the beach. A truck drives by us heading uphill toward the exit. Then, a few minutes later, the truck is back... directly behind us a few yards. With their lights off. And shaded windows that I could not see in to who was driving. Once the girls noticed we were being followed, they began to freak out. Who out there is familiar with group psychology of girls? Not pretty, and we were about 1/2 mile from home. With no one around. And my neighbor somewhere down the trail and not able to hear me when I was calling her. Here we were out having an exciting evening of night beach visits and we are being shadowed by a truck of creepers. My inclination was to tear those truck boys a new somethingerather, I was that pissed that they thought that would be funny.
The main thing I have thought of since this is what sort of people in the truck thought it was funny to intimidate a gaggle of prepubescent girls like a scene out of a bad horror flick? They must have felt very powerless within their own lives to get a charge outta that.
The boring end of story is : called home and Dennis came and got the kids in the minivan, called neighbor on trail to go home, and I did not get to kick anyone's truck butt.
Wish me luck for this weekend. I think we will "do nails."

Gentleman Woman Farmer

That is what my neighbor called me yesterday, somewhat stumbling over it all. A gentlemanwomanfarmer. I guess that is alot better than 'single-mom-getting-into-lordknowswhat-without-a-man girl' neighbor. Sometimes I feel I am on the receiving end of folks not able to fit me into their little hole of working single ma. Whatever that means in their head, I guarantee I don't fit it.
In the past two years I have dealt with things I never dreamed were still happening around Seattle, or for that matter, since the 1970's. I forgot how open Seattle is. There is a reason people are moving here in droves.
I am only 20 miles away, but wow, it is quite a different beast over here. I am missing the alarm in my brain that has a clearly designated this-is-woman-behavior and this-is-man-behavior section. I didn't grow up that way in my family. If it needed doing, it was done. Didn't matter what gender accomplished the task. In this place, for better or worse, I am the do everything person. I don't have the luxury of only cooking and cleaning. I also have to fix the mower (slowly) clean the gutters (fearfully) get the cars repaired (I like this part) talk to neighbors with wayward dogs (not so much) oh, and get my kids in to get their teeth cleaned. For the first time in my life, I have been told that there are things women do, and things men do, and that is for a reason. And, that it is in the bible. Sigh. I am hitting small bumps of how to fit into community meetings, where the women flow to one area and the men to another. I have a foot in both the decision making homeowner group and the childrearing gardening cooking group. How is that navigated? Before I die, I will know. But for now, I don't. And sometimes it is just tiring. I know why I have such a fierce love of inclusiveness within groups. Some sort of reaction to being excluded. Yeah, yeah, not everyone needs to like me, but civility is a good thing. I make it sound like everyone is cognizant of their behavior, and I really think they are not. All strange. But also, all invigorating for me. I love a good challenge, and an opportunity for opening minds, or probably more appropriate for me, but less effective, the opportunity to smack closed minds into shock mode. But politely, of course.

I am really doomed if a man does wander into my life. Since I don't want to be the inside the house cleaning person. Or even the crafty person. I want to be the outside breaking things like my lawn mower person. Or trying to fix things and getting all oily and dirty person. Or tying my hair up with baling twine and wearing jeans all day person. And then when I am all dirty and tired come in the clean house with dinner already done person. I also don't want to be the scrub around the base of the toilet person. That is my least favorite job.

Bathroom Update - Tear out and Prayin'

Photo: Totally unrelated to the bathroom tear-out job other than these chicks lived in the bathtub for a month.

So I broke down and decided to get some bids to tear out the rest of the bathroom so we can put it back together with all the stuff sitting in the garage. I have been sitting on it for 3 months, doin' nothing, so it is time to bring the big guns in. Or the people who would tear out in 3 hours what I seem to not be able to find time to do.

The first quote was a gal and her dad. They drove up in a minivan, much like mine, but newer and not white. After quoting the job ($250) they hopped in their car. It would not start. I gave them gas since they were on E. It would not start. I hooked up jumper cables. It would not start. I called my neighbor who can fix anything, but talked to his wife since he was at work and she said she would say a prayer for us. I actually love the whole 'say a prayer' thing, it seems like such an easy way to reach out into the ether for random help. And let me tell ya, our neighbor has been saying many prayers for us (but that would be another story.)
OK, so neighbor is saying a prayer over the non-starting car and I say thank you and hang up the phone. Walk outside and the car starts. I love that shit. Called the neighbor back and told her that her prayer did the trick, she said no, it was the "Lord's Work" Well god bless that man. I will say a prayer for him.

The final part of that story is that about 10 minutes later I got a call from these two and am asked if I found a wallet somewhere at my house. Sigh. I don't think it was their day. Can someone say a prayer for them?

House - Project List

I have actually finished another item on my to-do list. The big wicked festival of mud that was right outside the barn stalls is no more. Well, technically, I think it would be no more in the summer since it is dry, but that is besides the point. My retired neighbor Dan came over with a borrowed bulldozer and not only scraped the stalls (you would not believe the smell when you did down through 10 years of horse cesspool compressed into layers) (previous owner must have had major hoof problems with his horses if he let them stand in that), but also took away all the extra goo outside the stall doors. He absolutely rocks. And I don't know how to appropriately thank him. Then, I had a big BIG truck dump 12 yards of gravel down. I don't know how big a yard is, but I know it was a big truck that mooshed down my grass 4 inches into the ground it was so heavy. The other thing was my scoring deal on a new kitchen sink (the previous owners were a bit on the cheap side, and put in a plastic sink) (not kidding) . Home Despot had a 400 buck Kohler on sale for $52! Love that sort of deal. Now if I just had the time to put it, the bathroom vanity, sink, toilet, flooring etc etc in my house, I would be set!

Chicken Death

I just read in National Geographic that I cannot call our chicken being 'taken out' by the neighbors uncontrolled dog as Chicken Murder. Murder is only defined as human oriented killing. Hence the title. I don't want anyone calling it the wrong thing. I was not allowed to post the grisly details on here about the demise of our sweet handraised black australorp Florida (Flo ) as per lovely daughter Rose. Suffice it to say, the characters in this story are neighbors, two uncontrolled dogs (pitbull mix and wolf mix), and a fat dog-friendly chicken.
We all know how the story ended. I know how my gun-totin' friends would like me to end it for the dog. This is the careful dance you do with permanent neighbors. I can throw up a fuss (which I did) and report the dog (which I did) but then I have to let it go. It is no good to pit neighbors against each other. Doesn't work very well. And, in essence, they are human and I suppose doing the best they can under their life circumstances. And we all love our dogs, even ones with issues. We had a dog that we put down in Seattle after exhausting all options of training and socialization. He was the best family dog, and loved Rose so deeply, but had been abused as a youngster and had a screw loose with strangers.
The neighbors know the ground they are walking on. I mentioned they could lose their house (some insurance companies do not insure houses with pitbulls or documented aggressive dogs.) I should note that comment about insurance went over with them like a load of bricks. Sometimes my helpful tidbits of information, are not so helpful. We can chalk that up to one of my "put a sock in it" moments.
WELCOME to my neighborhood.

Neighborliness (Neighborly-ness?)

The youth and I live in an old homestead. 1904-built former orchard and dairy farmhouse. Sometime in the 80's, that property was subdivided into 3 acre lots and sold. In the past 10 years houses have sprouted on those pieces, and folks have moved in. Now, this is just from me reading the plat maps and looking at the tax records. I have not seen it happen, we have only been here 5 months. But that is long enough to become immersed in the neighborhood psyche. Most women here are stay-at-home, and if they are not, the fella definitely runs the roost. Here I am, tall woman who still has her job in the big city moving in without a man by my side. I had forgotten the subtle threat that can be. The men only talk to me when their women are not around, or would truly prefer that they had a male in my house to be able to talk things over with. A gal pal and I would tease that I should wear a t-shirt... I Don't Like Married Men, or So Not Interested in Your Husband to put it out there. It is a small community, and most have not ever come over to say hi. Me being a big blab-head have made a point to say hi to everyone, and I have been over to their places. Hell, in our big city house we got a welcome basket from the neighbors. But I digress. There are three neighbors that are gold, and I have called on in emergencies, but a couple have let me know that they hoped I would take care of the neighborhood troublemaker dogs, being that I have horses and chickens. Because they all LIKE these folks, and since I am new they can throw me under the bus.
And yesterday, I went there. Right under that bus.