Kitchen Floor make over.

In August of 2012 I started removing the first of several layers of vinyl in my kitchen. It was nailed and stapled to a thin sheet of plywood.  The plywood was nailed down to older vinyl flooring that was less ugly than the top layer.

In February of 2013 I started picking at the next layer.  This layer was glued and nailed and stapled down.  It did not disappear willingly.

It was a very long tedious process and about a year ago I got the floor to a point where I could live with it.  Most of the glue was scraped off.  Most of the nails were pulled or tapped in - at least the ones we might step on and the overall look was somewhat charming.  Yeah - that's the word.  Charming.

I have been aching to get back to that project for awhile now but with work it has been impossible.  I finally bit the bullet and filled out appropriate paperwork to ensure I could get 3 days off in a row and Monday I started the final push to finish the kitchen floor.

The first step was to clear out the room and take a picture.  Not SO ugly, huh?

The next step was to crawl around on the floor for the next 12 hours sanding, scraping glue, pulling nails and questioning the sanity of my choices.

As you can see, not much progress was made in that 12 hours.  By 10:00 pm Wednesday I had the floor as ready as it was going to get.  Fir is a soft wood and there was just no possibility of getting up all the black and imperfections.

Peter and I realistically adopted the "we aren't going to make a silk purse out of a sows ear" attitude.  Our floor is 80 years old.  It has been abused with glue, nails and staples.  It has been horribly mistreated and our options were limited.  There were a few places worse than others.  There were some very odd repairs and patches.  There were holes and there was a very odd spot that was stained and finished.  To minimize (aka hide) the flaws in our sows ear we decided to stain the floor dark.  Very dark.  So we started staining:

This morning I added the first of 3 (or more) coats of polyurethane.  

With the exception of a few very odd places that you might have to get on your hands and knees to see, I would say we DID make a silk purse out of a sows ear.  I really like it.   It sure feels great to have this project nearly off my to-do list.

I'm already planning my next project, which will either be painting the cabinets white or removing the popcorn ceiling from the bedroom.  Because heaven forbid, I should sit idle!

Tis the Season!

It's hard to believe that Christmas is just 10 short days away.  I confess.  I don't care.
I care - but not for the right reasons.  This job I have sucks any remnant of joy I might manage to muster for the season.  I care because that means I am 10 days closer to having some sort of normalacy return to my world.

Other than Sundays and holidays, days off don't exist. If I am not "doing" a route, I am assisting in delivering the hundreds and hundreds of parcels that need to be delivered.  Today it was parcel delivery.  Got to work at 7:30.  Got done at 6:30.  I made repeated trips with my gas-sucking SUV filled to the brim,   Thank goodness I get a fair and reasonable mileage reimbursement. 

One of my stops today was at a farm I had delivered to before.  There is a beware of dog sign at the driveway.  In my previous experience I had never spied a dog.  Always cautious, just in case, but never a dog to be seen.  Today I was in a hurry.  I didn't give any credit to the clearly bogus dog sign. I pulled into the driveway and turned around so that my car was facing the road and the back of it was facing the house.  I got out of the car and went around to the back hatch and opened it up. A brown rottweiler seemed to come out of nowhere.  Not particularly aggressive but why take chances?  So I backed up slowly toward the drivers door and a black rottweiler magically appeared.  The two had me pinned to the car with no where to run.  I inched back toward the back of the car.  I had so many packages there wasn't really room for me, but that was the least of my problems.  In the most non-threatening manner I could manage I reorganized so I could sit inside the opening.  Then I gently brought my legs inside, forced to place them somewhat up in the air over some parcels that were in the way.  The dogs got so close they took the opportunity to smell my feet and legs.  They drooled.  They didn't bark or growl but they were BIG and showing their proportionately big teeth.  I talked to them.  They didn't seem to care that I was being friendly.  My phone was in the front of the car so calling for help was out of the question.  The dog spray issued to me was also in the front.  After a few minutes the brown dog started to get bored with me and turned away.  Reaching for the door in order to close it was apparently interesting and the dog returned to it's post - keeping me pinned to my spot.  I did not know where the black dog had disappeared to so my imagination convinced me it was waiting just around the corner of the car to rip my throat out.

I was NOT having fun. 

I eventually managed to get the door closed but found I was in quite an awkward position, in a tiny space, surrounded by parcels and my feet in the air. But at least I was safe.  I moved packages around and shifted my weight, eventually getting on my hands and knees.  I crawled through the inside of the SUV to the front but still had to get over the two front seats - with ridiculously high head rests and a ridiculously skinny gap between the drivers seat and passenger seat.  I am very glad it is unlikely I was being filmed.  Nothing about my climb through the car was graceful or dignified.  These people did not get their parcels today and I don't care.

On another seasonal note, Peter roasted a turkey today.  She... I mean IT is very delicious.

Peter has never cooked a turkey before. But that's not what makes this note worthy.  This turkey is a natural, free range bird.  Acquired from the people that had Rosie.  I was told that Rosie has gone to live in Palm Springs and is happily enjoying the weather there.  I was told that this is not Rosie.

I choose to believe.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I hope you have had, or are having a fabulous day.

We are spending the day leisurely hanging out at home, trying to figure out how to get the Seattle Seahawks game on the computer - since we don't have cable TV.  I have been working an insane number of hours - Christmas season is upon us and things are crazy at the USPS.  No time off for little old me so no time to run to Oregon to see my kids.  We are having salad and whatever we can scrape together for dinner.

We had a much different day planned than this though.  Several months ago we traded a rooster and hen to a fellow (Mark) for the promise of a Thanksgiving turkey.  The intention was that he would raise it, and then "dispatch" it, and have for us a very not-like-a-REAL-turkey bird.  On a whim I named this faceless creature Rosie (short for roasted).

A week ago I contacted him to make arrangements to pick up our processed bird.  Mark had completely forgotten the agreement.  I reminded him and he cheerfully agreed to bring a bird over to us.  Alive.  "Eeek!"  I shrieked.  No.  NO.  Absolutely NO!  He agreed to dispatch her for us and bring us a dead bird.  Still very much a real turkey.  Only dead.

My stomach began to feel queazy.  I didn't sleep well.  Peter agreed to do the cleaning and we discussed methods of removing the bird's feathers.

This did not make me feel better.  And then it turns out, to ensure freshness Mark would bring us a live bird, and kill her here.   This also caused me great stress.

Mark and Rosie were supposed to come over Tuesday night, but got lost on the way here.  He took her back home and released her to the rest of the flock.  He told me a story how easy she is to catch because she really likes grain and comes eagerly to him when he offers it to her.  Awwwww....  I love animals that love food!  He promised to bring her by this morning after enticing her with promised yummy grain.  :(

I have not slept well.  Peter had dreams about turkeys.  I worried and stewed.  Peter confessed he wasn't eager to do this either.  Early this morning I contacted Mark and issued Rosie a pardon.

Maybe someday I can do this.  Maybe.  But probably not likely.

Rosie.  Long live Rosie!!

Standing on the Edge

Today I stood on the edge of the USA. 

It's been a month since "my incident" - that's what we refer to it as around here - and things are looking up.

The Sunday after "my incident" I walked almost two miles.  From that point on, I began watching the quantity of my food intake.  The food I have been eating has been very good for me - just too much of it.  I like food, what can I say.  I made a batch of cookies for my daughter and only ate one.  I passed over donuts and cupcakes coworkers brought in to work.  I made 5 caramel chews (from Halloween) last 3 days!

I have been walking and cycling and being generally more active, slowly building up my stamina, hoping to get back to running like I used to.  I have lost 7 pounds and dropped a clothing size.  My blood pressure is nice and low.  Almost too low at times, for a girl who is used to being propelled by a compression engine. 

I would have sworn I did not feel bad before, but I feel so much better now I must have.  My attitude is better.  My energy level is better.  I spend less time on the sofa.

Today I walked about 4.5 miles at an average of about a 15 minute mile  (not fast, but a nice steady pace).  I even jogged or trotted for small intervals.  I made it to the edge of the USA, just 2 yards from Canadian soil, and turned around and came home.  When I walk from my house, this is the scenery.  You really can't beat that with a stick!

Also on the de-stressing front I have made a well thought-out decision about my goats.  They must go.  I find that dragging them or being pulled by them to and from the pasture twice a day is not a relaxing past time.  I often end up incredibly stressed over the process.  Saying things to them I wish I regretted but don't and then feeling guilty about it.  Goats pee and poop indiscrimently and are very dirty things.  The idea of turning them into milk goats and ending up with even more of the creatures, no matter how cute the babies are, sends shivers down my spine.

They deserve better.  They deserve to have an opportunity to have babies and eat too much and hang out with other goats.  They need to "be all they can be" and not get yelled at by me on a daily basis.

With this end in mind, we have found them a new home with a lovely young couple named Lissa and Jeff.  They promised not to eat them - although felt comfortable with telling us they might eat their offspring - which I am perfectly okay with.  They are going to start a dairy herd and these will be the founding members.  We still have Een and Twee until Jeff and Lissa get their pasture ready but soon we will be goatless.

Someday, when we have a different barn/pasture set up than we do now, I would like to try again.  Someday I would like to milk goats.  Someday I will.  Just not now.