Work Wednesday—Wrapping it Up

Things have gotten a bit out of control around here lately. With that lovely spell of steamy weather and miserable heat indices, no one has felt much like working around the farm.

There are, of course, the daily chores and general upkeep, but projects take a backseat when it’s this hot.

However, we’re currently having a taste of fall, the weather is awesomely perfect, and I made a list.

This always slightly terrifies my husband. The only thing worse is when I say, “Hey, I have an idea!”

So, we still have bathroom trim to finish putting up/back, and the lean-to door absolutely MUST have those shims removed—I’ve stabbed myself more than once while doing laundry.


We caved on the tub plumbing installation and the local plumber is scheduled to come out next week.


All the parts for the outdoor shower are actually at the campsite, but I’ll need to climb at least one tree to finish it up. The shelter itself has been put off once again, until we can actually count on consistently cooler weather.

We put in some fencing a few weeks ago, and the rest of that is also waiting on fall—and whether or not the neighbor next door is willing to sell. He’s still thinking. But he did come to visit last week; it was his first time seeing the place.

Pasture fencing goes along with that, even though it’ll be rail and not barbed wire, as well as the sliding doors in the bedroom.

And I’m not above bribery:

I told my husband that if we finished up all the little things, we could start work on the pond area. Currently, we have two boats down there and a firepit. We’ll be adding a small dock, a beach area, a picnic table, and a small shelter.

First step, of course, is clearing all the junk trees and brush. That, naturally, will require more burning.

And he’s all about those giant bonfires . . .



Work Wednesday—Bathroom Remodel Part II

Sunday, my husband started more bathroom destruction: the removal of the giant corner jetted tub. Now, it might be nice to have now and then, but it’s a real PITA to clean—not to mention getting in and out. Plus, it takes up a lot of room and collects dust and tools and parts.

And the cat. He’s going to miss it . . .


So we decided to remove the wide ledge at the back of the room, but left the other one on the east side. At press time, the cat is still trying to figure out why his dish moved and how he can reach it . . .


The next step was rebuilding the walls; fortunately, we have all the old cherry that he pulled off the outside of the tub, and of course, after that, a new tool is needed for the edges of the sill.


Off we went to the city.

About halfway down the state highway, the car dinged and it took me a minute to realize it was NOT the “change oil” ding, which sounded a couple days ago, but the YOUR ENGINE IS SERIOUSLY OVERHEATING ding.

Pulled off the road onto a farm lane and shut down the engine.

We were weighing our options when a pickup slowed and turned around. Brent offered to run home and get a couple gallon jugs of water, which we accepted, and then chatted with us for a bit while the car cooled down.

He also gave us recommendations for two local mechanics, told us he knew exactly where we lived, having known the previous owner some time back, and told us about the downfall and history of the little ‘burg nearby—actually, literally, a wide spot in the road.

He even offered us a ride, if the car wouldn’t make it either direction.

Finally we decided to go back home and grab the truck and go get a new whatchamacallit. You know, the thing that regulates the radiator pressure. The words, Robin, use the words!

It took us a bit to get there, though. We drove a few miles, the gauge went up. We stopped. We drove again, the temperature rose. The last stop seemed to do the trick—we made it 10 miles and the gauge stayed right where it was supposed to be.

Must have hit a rock or a pothole just right . . .

Well, I elected to stay home after this and finish up some trimming in the orchard.

Guess we’ll have to put off tiling the bathroom floor until tomorrow.

Oh, darn . . .