It is a sunny day - the gardening bug arrives!

I woke up this morning to sunshine.  Literally woke up to the sun -- in my closed eyes. Because I have those new stunning windows in my room that are not yet framed on the inside, I have no curtains.   Which is so funny because yesterday it was so cold, windy and wet I did not make a required trip to the dump to empty construction mess because my fingers froze when I was tying it all down.  I got very wet, threw my hands in the air, mumbled something disrespectful about the temperature, took my wet clothes off and tossed them in the dryer, and clambered back in bed for a nap with the heating pad and cat. (The cat is no dummy, he is drawn by the heating pad, too.)

I culled seeds from these giants last year, but have about six types of sunflowers that are going in. 

When it is sunny at this time of year I get the gardening bug -- you know it? The one that sends you outside to clean-up and prep for the upcoming growing season?  I have too much compost (positive side effect of having horses), a neighbor with a small tractor, so I am going to put the two together and make a narrow bed next to my driveway that goes around my house and put in sunflowers. The last three years I have sporadically planted them (really, I walk around the yard plugging in seeds here and there...) but this is going to be a solid stripe of yellow running in front of and next to my home.  My neighbor and his tractor will do the large scale moving of all that compost. I will follow behind and "prep".   I define myself as a lazy gardener.  I will have him move and dump loads of compost in a loose row (tractors are never good at meticulous work).  I will cover it with plastic.  In a few weeks I will uncover it, maybe drag a rake over it to make the bed look planned as opposed to haphazard,  and push a bunch of seeds into it.  Then I will spend a week or two opening my window in the house and yelling at crows picking through and eating said seeds. But by mid-summer  I will have flowers galore. 

Kids trump all

Taking up the most of my life is raising kids.  Yeah I gotta house that needs work.  Yeah my gardens are expanding and I am thinking of getting a greenhouse.  Yeah, I have a whole lotta animals and their respective vet bills.  But the bottom line that runs through every day is my two kids.  One, Rose, 17, is almost out of the house. A senior applying to colleges, her time is spent being a teenager in the best and worst sense of the word.  She takes AP classes and is in Debate. She has put a dent in every car except one. She has made questionable choices with her friends.  She seems to spend alot of time on hair and makeup. She yelled I HATE YOU once to me when really really angry.   BUT, I vaguely have a wispy memory from the recesses of my brain that I hated my mom at this age. She was so dumb. And her rules were ridiculous.  Of course, having my own kid this age brings back all those memories, so in some ways I imagine I am a very frustrating mom. It does not hurt my feelings when she yells that, I know that she needs to cut her tie to me.. to make a clear stride toward autonomy as I did.
The hardest thing for me is to let my children fail.  Not fail in the little things, but the big, hondo, impact-your-life kinda way.  My daughter has made some questionable friends.  On the outside they are all sugar and sweet, successful parents, they look a certain way... but there is some weird stuff going on in their families and in their heads and consequently they are on their way to having juvenile records for theft. (Seriously, who steals from Walmart.)  I caught Rose playing hooky with one gal and turned them in at school. (Actually another mom saw them and called me - the blessing of a small town!)  On a hunch, I had them both empty their bags.  A stolen bottle of vodka was emptied out of the friend's purse.  This is where I failed.  I was not willing to get them both suspended so I took the bottle and threatened them both to high heaven. They got in school suspension for cutting class.
My daughter was grounded for months.  The restrictions are lifting but she is being monitored.  So far she has been where she says she is, doing what she says she is doing.  But, BUT if she does something more serious with her "best friend" I need to not step in and rescue her.  I did not easily come to this conclusion.  Besides friends that are an ever-lovin' source of support, I have a therapist.  I brought her on board when I was navigating divorce, she stayed through all the mortality crap I have been through, and now gets to tackle a more challenging topic with me - teenagers. She talks with Rose, too, and is a neutral support system for us both.  We all have figured out that my stroke impacted both kids enormously (no, duh.) and unfortunately Rose is "working through" some things she does not have words for.  God how I wish my kids didn't ever have to experience that, but it is not for me to fix. 

Three generations cracking up.  Daughter, Mom, Grandma.

Siblings.  You have no idea how many dozens of pictures I have on the computer of them hamming it up. 

It is also a saving grace to have her dad living 15 miles away. The kids go there on weekends and I gallivant about the countryside.(OK, maybe gallivanting is a stretch, but I am childless for a solid day...)

What is this? The strange power of spring? Hormones?

A Seattle buddy said I have to write these down because I will forget and they should be documented for humor and so they can rib me later.  My friends are lovely, aren't they?

I was on the ferry yesterday reading.  I heard a voice over my shoulder and then a man stood next to me and said : Boy, I wish I hadn't had my morning coffee already, I would just have to come join you that smells so delicious.  Me: It is tea.  He: A bit flustered. Me. It is good, you should try tea. I smiled.

Geri went with me to church this weekend.  We were guzzling our tea/coffee before the service and a fellow sat down with us. I began talking with him, he is from a neighboring island and boats in for the service.  He said : I hope you are really happily married.  You should be happy in your marriage. Then he blushed.  BTW, we were not talking about marriage OR relationships. We were talking about enviromental activism. 

Obviously this man-thing is not done.  I will keep you posted.   Oh, I'll tell you the architect story, too.
I won an architect at my son's auction.  He came over to fulfill the certificate and we sat at the dinner table talking what he was going to do.  He then asked me about my kids school where I won the service.  He asked me about schools and when I was telling him he said : Maybe this would be a good conversation over a glass of wine.  Me: Awkward. When I get in "house mode" there is no time for romance.  Practical house stuff, man, we got things to do!

I put that pic up of me in the previous post so you can see how I look when all this is happening.  A lot of times my makeup has worn off, (if I even remember to put it on) maybe I have hay in my hair or mud on my shoes. And this is not just mud, this is more "horse" mud, the naturally scented kind.
I swear I am not flirting.  S-W-E-A-R.  At least there is an end in sight.  I am pretty sure it will come to a grinding halt when my hormones adjust out of whatever mode they are in.  I am also writing this down because this sort of random stuff does not happen to me. Never. Or never so blantantly.  It's all this damn heart opening stuff.  (I am pretty sure the calm gentle souls teaching this don't use that terminology... but I think that is my new acronym for it - D.H.O.S.)

Contractor - I found a good one.

My house has never been so strapped down.  It has been seismically retrofitted, with monster brackets tying the whole thing together.  That and the posts and beams are new should make this all more solid.  Should.  I notice my south wall is moving.  I notice this because the previous ding dong owners built the stairs so they don't all touch the wall... it looks like a floating staircase at points.  Yes, in architecturally significant homes they do this purposely and it is quite a feat, in my house... an accident because what - they ran out of wood?  I dunno, but it has always been this way and I have called it "charming" in my mind. If I think "charming" and "original" that allows me to be more generous of spirit than if I focus on the words "idiocy" and "cheapskate".  Some days it is a toss-up. 
The staircase is becoming more and more floating.  As in, the wall has moved a quarter inch away. 
Sigh. 
Guess we aren't done in the basement. 
I will have a structural engineer over to confirm, but I will have my contractor do the work.  Because even if I question how he supported the south wall, the bottom line is I can call him up and say "Walter, seriously, this wall is moving because of what you did". He does not argue, get all blustery about it and grumble that it was like that before, or he did it all correct it must have been something I did (can you tell what sort of people I have had do work previously?) He just says something like : Sue (the project manager) differed in opinion on how to support this but we ran all the numbers (and boy did they run numbers) and I thought this would work but I guess we need to revisit this, or yeah, we didn't know (blah de dah), let me come over and figure it out.  Other than this, they stayed in budget and did phenomenal work. The ease of working with them all on a plain old farmhouse is worth it.  And, with this house, nothing is ever simple.  And no, I don't want a new cookie cutter development house which would take no brain power to own. Because for me, I need to have a challenge.  Oh, you say, having teenagers, being a single mom, health adventures, a geriatric horse or two,  acreage, gardens, aging cars, chicken eating coyotes is not enough of a challenge for you?  No, no, it isn't.  I need an old bug chewed, slightly tilting, story-filled, farmhouse thrown in the mix!   And yes, I should probably plan on being buried in the backyard because all my money is sinking into this landboat. 

Doctors and who to sue if I keel over.

I am putting this in writing.  Today I went to the cardiologist.  I stood in line to check in behind five people, two in wheelchairs.  I sat in the waiting room with a dozen folks.  The average age was 20+ years older than me. Out of a dozen patients... I was the only person in that room able to drive herself to an appointment.

Just figured out the new camera on my computer... don't I look tired after a day of docs?

I am having issues being taken seriously in the doctors office.  I look healthy.  I am sparky. (Oh, especially if I have an excellent double shot of espresso before heading in to the doctors office).  I am eloquent.  And If I am not, I write it down so I don't forget.  I am confident.  I don't whine, cry, or look sad.  Worried, yes.  I want them to take this seriously so I put on my "work face".  The one that I would use to get people to donate money and the one for public presentations.  I need something from them, so I express that need.  My old doctor pre-stroke blew off all my CLASSIC stroke symptoms because she said it was menopause symptoms.  I feel like my cardiologist blows me off because I am female, way younger than him, don't smoke, don't drink (enough), have a healthy heart, am a decent weight, eat well.  When I am in front of him, my heart is fine.  Well no duh.  After telling me I had a small stroke, (when my neurologist calls it a serious stroke) he suggested it was anxiety.  That sounds a lot like he is going down the menopause road.    They can make me feel like a hypochondriac until I remember... nope, not a hypochondriac if I had a stupid stroke people. 

Note: I am the least litigious person in the world.  I am not condoning suing. There is a lack of significant medical studies on women, menopause and embolic episodes, hence a lack of comfort by doctors to venture  outside of the "averages" of prescription drugs and medical journals.. Unless I find a study of some sort -   my medical concerns will not be addressed fully until a) I do have a heart attack or another stroke or b) I age.  Probably need to find other doctors, too.

Heart Story Part 2

Tuesday I was heading over to Seattle by ferry to a neurology appointment.  I called the aid car with some weirdo stuff this weekend so needed to check in with my big gun doctor. (Reminder to self: when calling an aid car make sure you are not wearing your horse riding bra - you know the old questionable one? Because, not that you are necessarily thinking about that in a time of medical trauma, but what if they are super handsome and charming and seem like they are not from around here? And are not nerdy like the last EMT guys who blushed when they put the heart monitor stickers on you? Just sayin' ....) Sorry. Sideline.

When we parked on the ferry for the 40 minute ride, a smiling woman in her 60's tapped on my window.  She said, "I think I am supposed to meet you." Huh. This has been an odd journey of late, so why not? We talked a bit and I invited her to sit in the truck with me (40 years of ferry riding I have never invited someone to sit in the car with me...) A thoroughly sweet woman, she went on to say last night she was at a dinner party and mentioned that she really wanted to ride a horse again.  She and her husband are going to Maui and some folks at the dinner said Hana on Maui had the most beautiful horses.  She pulled in behind my truck on the road to the ferry (which by the way I never take to the city because I can't park it anywhere and the gas mileage is atrocious.)  While driving she saw my bumper sticker, "Fight Smog, Buy Horses - Hana, Maui",  and my personalized license plate about traveling.  The coincidence struck her as odd, and so she decided to meet me.  She had horses previously in her life, but has no room for them now.  She moved up from California to be with a new husband and felt isolated (welcome to the Northwest Freeze!) on the end of a forested road in on a drippy gray weathered island.  We talked endlessly like very old friends until we landed in Seattle. It was not awkward at any moment, truly like we were just picking up on a conversation we had already started. 
We exchanged numbers and went on our merry way. 
I went to my neuro appointment, gave him my list of symptoms, and he sent me directly to the cardiologist and an appointment next week with the words "We may have it figured out why you had the stroke... this sounds like your heart. "  Since my hormones are in flux again (ah, lovely menopause) it is playing havoc with my heart rate. I had this before the stroke, but post stroke nothing.  Post stroke there was a complete and utter change of diet and lifestyle.  I was in charge of nothing. Not the house, kids, career, whether the cars got their oil changed.  I ate nothing greasy, caffeinated, sugary or salty.  I slept a lot. I lost 3 clothing sizes (it doesn't look it being that I am 6' tall!) Today, my diet isn't quite that strict (caffeine and sugar have slipped back into my life) but it is much better than previous.
Marcy left me a sunny message tonight about a "mile high" chocolate birthday cake she was given two days ago (her birthday was valentines day) and wanting to meet at the local public place to share with my kids and I. 
See, there is something to this heart stuff.
I am doing this "heart opening" , or trying anyway, and people start walking in my life. 
I haven't even told you about three men in one day inquiring about getting together for wine, coffee, lunch....that does not happen to me. Ever.

Heart Story Part 1

Related to the previous story is that my grandfather died of a heart attack. Early on in my stroke diagnoses, there were many heart tests -  since unhealthy hearts run in my family. The clot that  lodged in my brain is a direct line from my heart - so my neurologist is sure the embolus came from the heart, the cardiologists have just not been able to replicate my hearts antics.  When she heard my story of ending up at a Port Townsend church,  a friend said "your grandfather must be trying to tell you something. " I pondered on that... what would he tell me? He was a driven German, oldest man to climb the Sierra Nevada mountains, world traveler, - he made the gyro that guided Apollo 13 - and the last 25 years of his life he totally changed his life after a bypass surgery.

In January, there was a class on healthy hearts at the church. I signed up, thinking it was medical knowledge- you know...healthy food, exercise equals healthy heart...etc etc.  and could always be useful information. Turns out it was on meditation, opening your heart, and an Eastern medicine approach.  I sat through the class and realized I have a guarded temperament about my heart.   It took some conscious effort in that class to release that closed off part of me, walk a little straighter and think, "open your damn heart, Andrea". (My words, not the gentle-spoken man that taught the class.)  Between the bible verse randomly left on my car about opening your heart, and ending up with my grandfathers minister at my church perhaps I should listen to something that is hard for me to understand.  Or perhaps more appropriate.. hard for me to listen to.

My kids.  The reason to keep voraciously battling these BS health issues. 

s.

Crazy faith -

When a youngster I was baptised at the Congregational Church.  It was the only church to attend in my small community , other than the Catholic Church.  I then attended a Presbyterian church as a kid on  San Juan Island.  The UCC church in Seattle was an active bunch of feisty people which I got along with swimmingly, my local UCC church in Kitsap is on the smaller side and has not clicked with me yet. The other morning I got a bee in my bonnet to go to church. I haven't been in a while since I worked weekends.  But since I took several weeks off of work -- I have my Sundays available for such endeavours. I was going up to Port Townsend that day for a hike so thought I'd visit a local church up there.  I looked up the program for that morning... and thought it looked like a grand topic.  I walked in a couple minutes late, sat in the back, and listened.  It began with the usual rituals, singing, announcements, candles.
Then the minister began talking. I listened and heard him mention Albert Schweizer which immediately brought to mind my grandfather, Wilhelm.  My grandfather would talk of Schweizer, Joseph Campbell, Jung with fire in his eye.  (He always had fire in his eye, he was full of German feistiness!) I realized I so was not listening to the sermon - so started paying attention again. That is when the minister said he was previously sixteen years at Fountain Street Church in Grand Rapids, MI. This caught my attention, that was my grandparents church. This man knew my grandparents.  In this small church in NW Washington memories tumbled through me as he talked about the things my grandfather talked of.  Same philosophers.  Same church leader.  I started tearing up when he said "the welcome card in the entry way is directly from Duncan Littlefair" -a man my grandfather had great respect for and with whom he completed an oral history of his life.  On a whim this day I visited this church where the direct beliefs from my grandfather were spoken.  The first and last time I heard this ministers voice was over twenty years ago, at my grandmothers funeral. Here I was hearing that voice 26 miles from my home in a church I went to on a whim.  
I got up early from the service and went and cried in the bathroom.
After leaving the church, I went to my favorite brunch place. Since living on the Kitsap Peninsula I do not hear the German language much. At this restaurant which I go to every Sunday...my grandparents voices were present - a woman at the table next to me was speaking German.  Her two seatmates were speaking English, but she was talking German.
When I went back out to my car a handwritten bible verse was on it, about opening your heart.
When I took it off my windshield I started laughing.  What a strange day.

Changes in window style - back to the beginning

This is the south side of my house three years ago during one of our infrequent snows.  The gable on the right is the original building, pre-1904 era.  At some point, the left "ell" was added.    The lower window on the right is my room, and the window that drips water.  It is not the window leaking, but the siding at some point on the second story is allowing water behind the siding that allows water to drip from the center of my window frame.
Above are, of course, not the original window style for the house.  In a rough dark fuzzy image from public records of my home, circa 1904, the house looks to be unpainted and has divided light windows.  Very tall and narrow, and I am sure drafty as all get out.  Below is what I have been up to.  The siding was replaced with 10" cedar bevel.  It is actually over the original cedar siding, still in excellent shape.  Also, I brought the windows back to the early days style - Andersen 200 series divided light - but without the draftiness!
I am painting the house this summer and guess what color?

A New Year - and women getting balls.

We went to Michigan for the holidays.  My family is outside of Detroit - in Royal Oak and Saline. Besides the obvious joyful benefit of visiting family - I don't to see on their home turf very often - we ate amazing food, had a white christmas (yay!) and took it easy. It is difficult to leave the farm,  I hired three people to keep an eye on things - one took the dog, one cared for the horses, and one housesat the chickens, cats and guinea pigs.
 I love visiting Michigan because houses like mine are EVERYWHERE.  Not so in the Seattle area.  And speaking of my house:  Oh man oh man oh man you have to see what I have been up to. Next post.
But first, because I have not been on here in a while...I will do a bit of venting action.  Because that is what drives visitation to a blog. Complaining!  (I am totally joking here, it is not advised to be negative...but I am nothing if not contrary!)
1. I have a beautiful 17 year old daughter.  It is endlessly unmercifully disgusting to me when men older than I ogle her. And when I say ogle, I mean leer and hit on her.  I want to walk up and say something about their daughters and granddaughters, would they like a man approaching their child the way they are approaching Rose?  
2. I am 48.   I am not in high school.  Women, this is a lecture for you.  If your husband/boyfriend/date is hitting on another woman in front of your face, you need to get pissed at the man involved.  Not the woman. If your man has children with other women and that bothers you, you need to get mad at him for lying and seducing other women, not the other mothers. (This is what I saw when I was a social worker--women physically fighting in front of their kids because they had children by the same man.)  If you don't have the chutzpah to stand up for yourself and tell off your man you need therapy or not to date for a while.... and definitely try not to have kids.   Oh, and you need to have the confidence to realize your partner talking to a female in a crowded room is not a threat to your relationship.   If it is, the above applies again.
I have said this before, and I am sure this is not my last discussion of this topic.  The story: I went out with friends to hear a great blues band.  Knew two of the women there, both had new boyfriends.  Immediately one of the boyfriends began a very outgoing, animated, flirty conversation with me, while I answered to both members of the couple, wanting to include his girlfriend, because it was uncomfortable. I started talking to the women across the table and ignoring him. For the record, the couple was tipsy, and this being Washington state, maybe a bit stoned.  Not sure on that, but there was some sort of inebriation going on.   The woman withdrew more and more, and eventually made out with her man AT THE DINNER TABLE, and then looked over at me.  When she was on the dance floor, she would look over at me and then grope her man. Blech.  Meanwhile, he is trying to catch my eye.  Point one is she is dating a dog of a man. Point two is by the end of the eve she couldn't even make eye contact or talk to me.
 See? I feel much better now.  That stuff happens and it is so frustrating. Oh and this for the men.  If you talk a single woman when your wife or partner is not present... you are not getting away with anything, We are not swooning over you, whether you have a potbelly or abs, age 20 -70.  I personally would never in a kajillion years, freezing hell conditions, melted polar icecaps, zombie apocalypse, have anything to do with an attached man.  That is not really a trust-builder, not the sort of thing to build a solid relationship on.

 I am serious, I am printing up a t-shirt that says:
 Yes, I am friendly.  I am SO NOT FLIRTING with you.
 I speak the same way to men, women,
          and small mammals.

Replacing Beams - What happens above those beams

The carpenters are busy downstairs.  I am sitting at my dining room table on the computer.  The southwest corner of my dining room DROPPED -the floor moved, the walls moved. 
I heard the carpenter come upstairs and into the dining room,  "Did you see it move?"
I answered from the living room, in the stable part of the house where I moved in about 1.2 seconds... "Yup, I saw that!"
They are "dropping" the mid section of my house while raising the edge, above the foundation.  This section of my house was described to me as a floppy tortilla, high in the middle with edges that droop. 
My house is only (only) a couple inches off level.  Friends told me of a newish home in a high end development 12" off level.  I don't feel so bad when I hear that. I just don't sit above the posts and beams they are working on...

Work horse truck ill.

My white work horse Ford f250 had to be towed yesterday.  It was acting strange, erratic, loud and gassy with electrical blips, uneven running and the engine light going on and off.  
Fred at the shop said they could tell it was not feeling well and gave it a hug.  Unfortunately, said he, that did not fix the problem. The computer failed.  (I love any man that is comfortable talking of giving a truck a hug.)
My home computer was losing keyboard keys left and right.  It too, has been replaced.  You all need to say a prayer over your computer components... this is not an inexpensive venture!

What a basement does for organization

The carpenters needed access to my basement so I emptied it out.  Into my horse trailer - full of boxes.   Into my garage -full of furniture.  And my living room?  Boxes.  I have been cleaning out so much paperwork I have filled my car twice with bags of paper to recycle.  One stuffed garbage can of shedded paper.  Why oh why did we not get rid of things as we went along.  I found my first house rental agreement from when I was 20. And self-indulgent teenage pep talk letters about boys. And my favorite paper from my favorite class in college.   Memories... yes.  Interesting.. kinda.  Did I need to haul these through five Seattle homes and one Florida home... until they finally ended up in my basement? I can never complain about how much the basement cost, because this job made me go through the paperwork, so it does not move with me to the retirement home.  Good lord.  The sad thing is (I am not done. There are more boxes of paper.)

Kids. House. Health.

1. Kids. 
I had a dream:  My children were kidnapped.  Taken to an apartment complex which I tracked them to and waited.  I had to rescue them so I enlisted the help of the police.
Reality: My kids are teenagers... it is like they have been kidnapped. Rose has repeatedly pushed the ticket and a couple times gotten into trouble.  She just opened up about acquaintances and friends being abused, drugs, sex ... all that crap that I hoped she could avoid until adulthood (NAIVE I KNOW).  Wilder is 13.  Enough said.
2. Getting work done on my house.
 I slowly figured out my house is an analogy for me.  I cannot fix all the things with me, but I can on the house.  Like new posts, beams, and joists to strengthen the foundation of my house....will also somehow strengthen me.  At least I am aware I am delusional.  There is concrete improvement occurring on the house that you can document and take photos of  which is not available with my health.  There are no pictures to be taken of my returned ability to stay awake for 16 hours straight or work an 8 hour day.  Or the lifting (89% of the time) of the fog on my slogging self-repairing brain.    I feel lucky.  But obviously not lucky enough to win the powerball (ohhh, think what I could do to the house then!!) (that may be because I did not buy a ticket...)
 

Signing the work contract - Replacing joists and posts.

What an enormous amount of legal-ese goes into the paperwork to hire a contractor --three pages of obscurity to read and sign. The job starts in the basement --we are leveling the house and adding structural supports . (See, I can listen to suggestions!)
First we are adding or replacing beams and posts... and sistering joists.  Then, and this one cracks me up, we are going to take a laser level and even out the SW corner.  Laser level and my house just don't seem like a good blend.  Abacus and my house.  Eyeballing by squinting next to a straight tree as a guide seems like my house.  Not laser.  But it will be grand in the end and she can stand up a bit straighter.  Never mind the cracking walls I will be repairing after they move things that have not been level in a century. 
We are still in negotiation on replacing siding/windows.  I lean toward bringing it back to the 1904 style windows, albeit with insulation and double panes.  But my budget keeps me in the "keep it the same" style.
Sidenote: we have a historic company town (Port Gamble) 4 miles away that is such a great resource for my home.  The exteriors of the 20 or so buildings are virtually unchanged.  The interiors- not so much. Someone described them as "Pay-n-Pak'ed" (you have to be an old northwesterner to get this reference). Pick any cheap materials do-it-yourself store and you get the idea.  This company town was built in the late 1800's by Pope and Talbot for processing lumber. They still own all the buildings that make up the little village.  Nowadays individuals can rent the homes and businesses from the company.

  This is my original window style.  Not the 80's sliders they put in.  (At least they are not aluminum). (Image of Port Gamble home)

NOT my window style.  I took it for the plain detailing of the board trim at the roofline which I am thinking of adding. (image of Port Gamble home)

Dave the contractor

I mentioned before talking to a contractor about my house.  His name is David.  He has a slightly gravelly, slightly nordic (NW) voice and asks all the right questions. We walked through my house, and he just wanted me to talk about it.  Seriously?  The first person not bored to tears about old house stuff ad nauseum?  About history and old beams and fires and how that all shows in the house?  It was all good to him.
After my list of stuff that was beyond my skillset --mystery leaks through siding, unsupported bathtubs, strange wood chewing insects eating the top of my fir floor and foundation work--he wants me to fix the foundation (as you all said I should do first).  My foundation is not attached to my house, a common thing in an old house.  Some posts are missing or taken out. The SW corner of the house is taking a slight tilt downward - gravity must be particularly powerful in that corner of the house, or, the 102 years the house stood without gutters did not do wonders for the foundation.
David and Sue, the project manager, are going to add/replace/sister all sorts of materials in my basement.  They are going to attach my balloon framing to the cement foundation.  They are going to have me clean out my basement so they can access everything.
OMIGOD.   Clean out my basement?  THIS is why I don't get this particular job done.  I have no closets in my house, my basement is basically my house size closet.  You know, the one that you shove things in when people come over and rapidly shut the door so it does not fall all out on your head?    The garage is not an option - it is full of construction materials.  My horse trailer is the only available covered protection I have and not near large enough.  I'll figure it out.  David says they will help with the moving....

House Dreams - Literally dreams about housing

Blue Shoe Farm

Well, I can tell brain recovery is almost fully done... I had a house dream last night.
In real life I am dealing with a finite budget and two or three (or five) to-do things on my list that are somewhat crucial. 
1. My post and beam support system is "fair" to failing.  Repair cost : $5-6K.
2. The upstairs bathroom is nearing the two year mark of completion.  Should probably finish that. Cost $2-3K.
3. My south wall siding has failed.  As in water pouring in when there is wind plus heavy rain so that the angle of rain just shoots straight behind my vertical siding, runs down behind it to the inside of my room. Not where I want rain. Drizzle or rain with no wind do not cause water infiltration, just with the addition of wind.  And what is the fall season? Wind and rain.   
So last night I had a dream.  I sold the farm. Rapidly, so fast I didn't even get to tell my wonderful neighbors, but already had a plan to invite them over to the new place. That I also bought rapidly. So rapidly that there was still furniture in it from the previous owner.  But let me tell you about this house.  A house in a development with an acre on each site.  Everything new and working and not needing repair.  An open kitchen with seating area, a studio outside with skylights and tons of built-in bookshelves. Matching trimwork and molding throughout. It was all beautiful and fit us. No plumbing, electrical or foundation issues.
While we were in the kitchen a group of boys Wilder's age walked by with bikes and baseballs.  He went out to meet them.  I thought : Golden.  Tons of boys for him to play with.  I was outside moving things around when another neighbor walked up.  He welcomed me and said he was the volunteer community somethingerather... his job was to make sure everything was according to the community covenant.  He told me the fridge left by the previous owners next to my garage would have to be moved soon.  That is when I froze and wondered what the hell I had done.  I moved into a place where you have to have your yard a certain way with only approved plants.  Your house has to be painted in a certain palette. Can't leave cars in the driveway. The horse trailer would be banned.
I immediately wanted the farm back.
Good thing it was just a dream.

Development housing.  Level and to code and no issues. Sigh. Is there something wrong with me that this gives me the heebie jeebies? I think so.

Chicken Coop finale

The three year chicken coop project is done.  Done I say!  I can cross this fully off my to-do list.
The coop had a previous life as a very wee little home for someone, most likely a farmhand.  I have records of the builder's wife (in 1904) moving to a "small house on the property" when the husband died, leaving my house vacant.  I don't think she moved into this.  There is still a wood burning cooking stove rusting away in the corner...

When I bought the farm four years ago, they gave this structure no value.  What a surprise.

 This is the siding removed for repairs. And a lot of repairs were needed : the siding was rotten ground up, the corner posts were rotten, the roof shot, the eave supports rotten, and no foundation for the whole thing. I thought of going to Home Depot and buying a prefab shed as a chicken coop, it would have been damn cheaper. But after looking at the lumber used in this (other than the siding!) I thought this was worth saving.  And now the coop will be home to 50 more years of chickens. 

 Regarding chickens... these two are Glory and Fred.  They moved here this summer from the humane society when we had a bumper crop of rats RATS living under the coop.  After 11 days there were no more rats.  The tabby is in particular an excellent hunter. Alongside our little black cat Bella the two of them cleaned up the rodent issue.

Hiring a contractor - why I screwed myself

I had a contractor out last week familiar with old house restoration come look at the farmhouse.  He had a multi-page article in our local magazine in his restoration of a century old craftsman, so would understand how to fix all the funkies in my old house.... keeping its integrity without Home Depotizing it. 
This is how in the last four years I have screwed myself.  By doing (what seems like) four years of research and how-to classes and online information and books, by hiring my own labor when things get over my head (sometimes it doesn't take much!), by shopping craigslist and all the re-use stores... well, that basically makes me a cheapskate.  Since I can find most anything I need dirt cheap, I can't see paying someone $8K to replace the siding on my leaking exterior wall (and weatherproof, and seal, and replace windows).  One wall.  One wall of six.  Because I know with a bit of hunting I could find leftover cedar siding from someone's project for a couple hundred. I could get those windows for $700.   And if I had the experience to be able to know and explain how to fix whatever weirdness (mold? rot?) is under that siding... I could have Javier do it for $300. 
See the knowledgable contractor knows what to do.  I don't.  But it is not worth the $7K difference for me to hire him.  And that is why I screwed myself.  I can't get someone in who really knows his old house stuff because I know I can do it less expensively.  I already figured out if This Old House was going to re-do my house, I wouldn't want them, since I watch what they put in and think "Holy crap, they paid full retail for that gas stove/old barnwood flooring, patio flagstone, etc etc. that they could have got for 1/5 price on craigslist?"  Cheap. Skate. 
I still haven't had that architect out that I won at Wilder's school auction.  At least I don't have to fret about that money!

September Update

I am off of my insect frenzy.  They are (or have been) eating various portions of my house. Most of the damage was done before the house was built, so I realllly don't need to worry so much. I just need to replace the damaged wood, which is manageable.  
My lovely daughter Rose blew the head gasket on the car.
I've been to the ER a couple times for standard ER stuff. I am overall fine and plugging along.
I tore out the old playhouse in the horse field, and the old dog house in my front yard.
My manure pile is getting a bit overfull, so I did an all call out on craigslist for people looking for horse manure. The ones getting stuff for free are the fun people! They always have great stories, and one even brought me a home produced bottle of wine. Bonus!
My mom had a garage sale to clear her house out before she put it on the market.  I brought over stuff leftover from my move 4 years ago.  We made $300, which is great considering most the stuff was under a buck.  Garage sales are a lot of work, but it is fun to chit chat with folks.  Next time I am taking my stuff to Goodwill and getting the tax write off.