Paperwork

I am determined.  I tell you... DETERMINED! to find something creative to do to make money.  Working at the Post Office is not creative. 

I really enjoy knitting and felting and making bags but there does not seem to be a market for these items.  A nice felted bag costs me at least $30.00 in materials and I might be able to sell it for $30.  Maybe.  But common business sense tells me I am not going to get rich (or even afford a cup of coffee) selling things for the same it costs to make them.

I need to find something to sell that doesn't cost me an arm and a leg to make.  I need to find something where the construction materials are dirt cheap. 

I remembered reading something once about people making paper from elephant dung in Thailand.  I don't have elephants, but I have alpacas.  They make poop.  Poop is free.  And plentiful.

Paper it shall be.  But first I needed to learn to make paper because not knowing how to do something has never been a reason to not do it.

You Tube here I come!

In a few short hours I learned a lot about making paper.  Most processes started with uh.. paper.  But I did find enough information to learn that I needed some basic equipment (frames, screens, couch papers..)  Well - so much for a cheap enterprise.

The next day I was at the local second hand store and what should I find?  A brand new paper making kit for $1.99!  Never even been opened.  It contained all the basic tools I would need along with directions that included pictures.  How easy could it be?

 

I thought I would try something easy to start with.  I took shredded newspaper and whirred it in a blender.

 

And I ended up with this.. a fine piece of thick gray paper.

 

I tried again but used college rule paper and added some plant life.  (begonia petals to be exact)

 

And then again and added dandelion petals.

 

Feeling quite pleased with myself I felt it was time to try poop!  I went out to the pasture and gathered up a nice fine FREE supply.  I put it in a pot to boil.  And boiled and boiled.  Outside of course.  In a second hand store pot.  At this point I would like to add that Peter is not supportive of the PPP (Poo Paper Project).  He kind of likes to use the alpaca poo for the garden and I will quote him here.  "It's a shitty idea."  Harummph to him I say!

 

After 2 hours of boiling and letting it cool down over night, I smashed it and smooshed it and then rinsed it through a screen, then through cheese cloth, repeatedly.  I rinsed away most of the poop and I was left with this lovely stuff.

 

 

More rinsing resulted in even more fiber and less poop. 

 

I was afraid that my remaining poo fiber was too fine and not enough of it so I added some paper pulp.  I didn't use the blender - which would have been helpful I think, but Peter had this thing about putting poop in the blender he makes milkshakes with.  I don't get it... all the boiling made the poop completely hygenic.  I think he's weird.

 

The fact is, when all was said and done, I made poo paper:

 

 

Two days of boiling, soaking, rinsing, etc and I ended up with one sheet of 6" by 9" paper that isn't even usable.  Not very encouraging.  The materials might be free but I might have better things to do with my time.  All is not lost though.  I have learned a lot.  I think I have learned how to do to better.  I will try again because it takes more than one failed attempt to convince me to give up on an idea.



The little Blue House...

For those of you who don't know me - here is a bit of insight into my psyche..  I can obsess.

I get an idea in my head and can't let go.  In the last few years I have had this idea to buy a vacation house.  At the beach.  Lincoln City, Oregon to be exact. 

I rationalized this decision by telling myself we spend so much time there it would be common sense to invest our money in real estate.  It would put us close to my children, close to our favorite weekend location and more.  It could be a lovely family vacation home.  The kids (and grand kid) could meet us there - we could have family time.  As an investment it made perfect sense and my obsession grew.

I started prowling real estate websites. 

A year ago or so I found a three story "fixer-upper" that was just one block from the ocean with a beach view and beach access.  Peter and I went to look at it.  We wandered around outside and peaked in the windows.  It was a wreck and I loved it.  Except the kitchen was in the basement.  That was weird.  There was a door to the outside on the third story.  But there was no balcony or stairs.  Just a door to outside, and a bit of caution tape.  Oh.. and there was also the issue of the price.  Too expensive for us!

Then I found a very nice, fully furnished three bedroom house on the east side of Highway 101.  The price was quite reasonable, considering the size and that it came furnished.  The furnishings were just my style.  We actually looked INSIDE that one.  It was very cute.  Very well furnished.  But two rooms were downstairs and one upstairs.  The family space was small and I couldn't see it functional as a family vacation space- which was one of the thoughts rumbling around my obsessed self.  The other problem was that Lincoln City was working on a new law that would not allow vacation rentals on the east side of of the highway.  We need to be able to rent out our new home part of the time in order to make this a successful venture.

Then I found the Little Blue House.

It was tiny.  Like 582 square feet tiny.  One bedroom.  One bathroom.
Two blocks from the beach - but certainly in walking distance.   It was on the west side of the highway.  A perfect little rental property.  I had to change my vision from a family vacation property to a vacation/retirement home that would accomodate kids, kind of.  I looked at pictures of it almost every day.  Then the price dropped by $10,000.  This little Blue House became MY little Blue House in my blue-house obsessed head. 

Last month Peter and I wandered around the outside of  "My" little Blue House.  We peaked in the windows.  I saw nothing to discourage me.  I wanted this little blue house.  I needed it.  Did I mention I was obsessed?

This week I just happened to be in Oregon on another mission and decided to contact a realtor about my house.  My grand plan was to look at the house and find something, anything, ANYTHING that convinced me that this house wasn't meant to be.  Really it was. 

Problem was, it backfired.  The house was built in 1930.  It had original fixtures.  You know, those really cool ones that you just can't find anywhere?  It had a wonderful wood burning stove.

The kitchen was too cute for words with original glass fronted cabinets and an original farm sink and a faucet that comes out of the wall..

 

 



The flooring was a wreck - but how much could replacing flooring cost in a house that's only 582 square feet?

I started the process of buying a house and sent Peter a text message that I was buying us a house.  Bless his heart, he took it in stride and hardly reacted!

In my head I started deciding how I would furnish it.  I considered starting up a pinterest board (an application I have previously failed to see the point of...)  In my head I went over the stuff I had in storage trying to figure out what I could re-use.  I decided I needed to buy a new hide-a-bed for the living room and new matress for the bedroom - but I pretty much had everything else.  I pondered paint colors and considered even changing the outside paint from bright blue. 

Then I got the call.  The dreaded call.  It seems that bright blue outside paint is covering some very durable but toxic asbestos siding and that the foundation was a crumbling mess.  No bank on the face of the planet will loan money on this little train wreck of a house. 

Well it was fun while it lasted and after all - I had hoped something, ANYTHING would convince me to stop obsessing about it.

My plan worked after all.  I am letting it go.  Slowly.  But I am still cruising the real estate websites...