Congratulations! It's a bouncing baby girl!

It might be 50(mumble mumble mumble) years past due - but I would like to issue the following announcement.

I would like to announce the birth of Carla.

Younger sibling to Jerry and Sharon Hotho.

Those of you who know me, probably know I am adopted.  It's never been a secret to me, or to my brother (who is also adopted).  I have never felt like it was something that needed to be hidden.  I haven't, however, generally shared that I had other siblings.

The short version is:

• A woman named JoeAnn got married and in about 1951 had a child she named Gary.
• JoeAnn got divorced shortly after Gary was born.
• In 1955 she had a child and gave this child to the childless Hotho couple who cherished this boy (that looked like a monkey - according to my mom) and named him Jerry.
• In 1959 she had another child and gave this child, as well, to the now not-childless Hotho couple who gladly welcomed a non-monkey looking baby.  They named her Sharon.
• JoeAnn got re-married and in 1961 had another child and named her Carla.

Really - that is about the shortest version of this story that is even remotely possible.

JoeAnn has since passed away.  Gary has as well.

Through the wonder of FaceBook Sharon, Jerry and Carla have found each other.  An amazing feat seeing as how Carla lives in Nebraska, Sharon in Washington and Jerry in Florida.  We span the US.

This past weekend Carla was in Oregon fishing for Salmon at the mouth of the Columbia River.  That was way to close for me to not go see her.

So after 53 years - I finally met my baby sister.

Peter and I picked her up and we went sightseeing in the Columbia gorge.  While we shared life stories Peter acted as chauffeur and was (not so) stealthily in the background taking photos.  We compared shoe sizes, hair color and blood pressure.  We talked about our kids - she has two and our animals - she has horses and chickens and dogs.  We talked hobbies and passions and skills.  She loves horses and can't cook.  I love food and can manage to feed myself quite nicely.  And we talked about her mother.  I learned a lot.  I was never overly curious about "my roots" while growing up.  I had loyalty for my parents and loved them very much.  Part of me felt that pursuing that information would some how have been disloyal to my parents.  I think mom would be more than pleased with this turn of events.

Carla's life was not easy.  JoeAnn's life was not easy.  Gary's life was not easy.  I don't feel their stories are mine to tell but Carla says Jerry and I were the lucky ones.  I believe her.

What I can share is that JoeAnn's mother was 1/2 Cherokee Indian.  JoeAnn was 6 feet tall and wore a size 10-1/2 shoe.  Information I found utterly fascinating!  It helps explain why my son has hit 6' 3".

As Jerry and I were growing up my mother never stopped being grateful to JoeAnn for giving her the gift of children.  She sent JoeAnn letters and updates and photos.  JoeAnn saved all these things.  Carla brought them all to share with me.  How cool is that??  She also brought me several photos of  her mother.

At our initial meeting Carla and I both expressed a desire to eventually be able to call each other sister.  I think we have made major strides to this end.  It's not an easy thing to take a virtual stranger and call her family.  It takes time.   It's a work in progress.  In the mean time we need to pull Jerry into this  and are trying to plan a family "union" - as we can't call it a reunion - next winter.  Jerry and his family, Carla and her family and, of course, my tribe.

There you have it.

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...

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!