Monday, July 30, 2012

Steampunk Basement Renovation Part I

I think I only have a million and one things to do this week. Besides work, and baking brownies (congrats to Jaime, Phebe and Karen!), I have the normal housework and then there's the abnormal housework.

Like a basement room makeover.

What? Are we crazy? Umm, don't answer that. But if you already did, and your answer was "yes!", I'll have to say that I agree.

Our basement is in no way, shape, or form, a finished basement. It is a farmhouse basement, plain and simple. Cement floor (I should be thankful; it could be dirt), rock walls, exposed wiring, water seepage, lots of cobwebs and the accompanying spiders, barn boots, hunting clothes, miscellaneous mittens and hats all make up the personality of the basement. Oh, and the washer and dryer are down there too, so that means dirty clothes, clothes baskets, and a clothesline.

We have talked over the years about redoing one of the rooms down there, and this week, Aaron got motivated. This is to be his space, his domain, his getaway. I think it will be pretty cool if it turns out the way he is envisioning.

If. . .

As you can see, we have a lot of work to do! Cleaning it out and cleaning it up is the first step.

 I don't know why but this picture makes me laugh. It's like they are saying, "Yes Master, yes Master," in an Igor kind of voice. You know, like in Frankenstein.

Ryan is so thrilled to be helping. Utterly and completely overjoyed.

It's a good thing the basement has drains.

And there he is, determined, a man on a mission.

My men. I do like to watch them work together on projects like this.


And part of the wall is up.

Yes, even I got in on the action, sanding the wall. Now that it is all sanded, it was decided by my men that they want to tear it out and build a new one. I think they are trying to build my character instead.

I'll keep you posted in the next week(s) to come. Think "Steampunk on The Farm".

Interesting.

Love,
Dianne

Saturday, July 28, 2012

Water Bugs.....aaaaauuuuuggghhhhh!!!!!!

I woke up this morning and enjoyed the sound of calves calling to their mama's in the barn. Random birds are cheerily sharing the gossip, and the bees are humming by my window.

Wait. Bees?

There is a wasp nest being constructed in the window frame right next to my side of the bed. Fascinating really. I moved the window just a little bit yesterday to open it, and suddenly there was an amazing amount of little black and gold fellas buzzing around, a little angrily I might add.

Don't let the black and gold fool you... they may look like Steeler fans, but they aren't. Therefore, I had no problem with the can of Raid being pointed valiantly at them by my knight in shining armor, Leo. With great courage and a strong heart, he eradicated the wasps in the early morning hours of dawn.

As I hid under the covers, Leo saved the day. Be still my beating heart.
I love that he is always willing to get rid of the spiders, the bees, the stinkbugs, bats, rats, mice and snakes that invade house and barn. He is my hero.

When I was a kid, the house we lived in had what we called "water-bugs". They were big, with striped bodies and big muscular jumping legs. Seriously, when they jumped across the kitchen floor, you could actually hear them land. Because we lived in the basement while the upstairs was still being finished, we always had water bugs in the bedroom. I guess they liked the cooler environment and the block walls. The bathroom was their other favorite hangout.


Before going to the bathroom, you would cautiously peer around the toilet, scanning the wall for any suspicious movement or the twitch of an antennae. There is nothing worse than perching on the throne to do your business, only to have a water bug jump at you, or even worse, on you.

Sorry, I am back now. I had to run screaming from the room. Flashbacks and all.

My dad was always willing to catch the water bug, or bugs as they usually traveled in pairs. We girls would frantically call him, or at least frantically whisper for him as we were afraid that if we were too loud, it would cause the bug to move. Dad, my other valiant knight, would come to the rescue, often plucking the creature up alive, in his bare hands, and removing it from the house.

Of course, he would tease us, just a little, coming closer than we thought necessary. Then we'd squeal loudly; kinda like the three pigs, we were.


Once, after a date with Leo, we were standing on the porch anticipating the good-night kiss, I was sure I felt a water bug crawling inside of my pant leg. I didn't want him to know it, and I tried to remain calm. Just breathe. I am sure he wondered as he drove home that night just why I was so eager for him to kiss me quick and leave. Believe me, that was not my normal behavior. After he left, I shook all over, and stripped off my jeans as quickly as I could. No water bug. At least not that I found. It still makes me shiver.

Aaron is in the process right now of cleaning out a back room in the basement to transform it into a man cave/bedroom. I hope he brought his suit of armor, he may need it in the weeks to come. Or at the very least, a can of Raid.

Basement + dampness + coolness = Waterbug Heaven

Okay, I need to run screaming from the room again.

Love,
Dianne


Friday, July 27, 2012

Tree Bark and Water Drips

As I walked around at work last night, I started to notice an irritating, burning skin sensation on the back of my foot above my heel. I figured that I must have scratched it at some point although I couldn't think when or where. I tried to ignore it, but the more I ignored it, the more noticeable it became.

Finally, after about thirty minutes, I thought I'd take a look. There, just inside my sock, on the very spot that was offending me, was a teeny tiny piece of what looked like tree bark. Don't ask me where that came from; it's not like I climbed any trees prior to coming to work.

Once I removed this speck from my sock, the pain went away, just like (snap) that! Now why did it take me so long to check it out? However, I was willing to live with some irritation because I thought it was a scratch and I had no choice, but to make the best of it.

By the same token, there are tiresome little things in life -- like a child asking "why" for the 611th time in an hour, or the phone ringing with another telemarketer for the 71st time this week. Or how about when you are really tired, and as you sit on the couch for just a minute, you discover a dish with dried maple syrup and the remains of a pancake. Even better -- how about tiny, scratchy crumbs of an unknown variety in the bedsheets? Or when you just want to make lunch for everyone and the pizza crust isn't turning out right and you discover that you have misread the instructions for the ice-cream mix and it actually does need to be frozen in the ice-cream freezer that is still missing parts?

Abrasive, irritating, annoying.

There are things in life that I can't change, things that get on my nerves, things that make me feel like a cat in a washing machine. What am I going to do about them?

If I think about the the constant sound of water dripping, drip, drip, drip, I know that it would get on my nerves.

But what if someone removed that source of water, and the eventual river it might create? Or the stalagmite that is amazing to look at in a cave would have never formed?

What blessings do we miss out on when we let little irritations ruin our day, our lives, instead of letting them shape us into something beautiful?

I'm not saying to let the tree bark in your sock allowing a sore to form, rather I'm saying, to handle the irritations with a little wisdom and a lot of grace.

Answer the "why" questions with a smile, thankful that your child has a mind to wonder.
Talk to the telemarketer and decline their offer politely. (Who knows, you may have been the first friendly voice they have heard all day.)
Be thankful that your family has food to eat, then find the guilty maple syrup culprit and have them do the dishes.
Hug the child who was eating in your bed and snuggle closer as you brush the crumbs away and watch the rest of the movie together.

Attitude. Boy oh boy, do I ever have days that I need help to keep it a good one and sometimes a leaky faucet, or tree bark in your shoe, is a good reminder.

Love,
Dianne

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

200th Blog...The Passing of Time

Today is my 200th blog post.
Two Hundred.
I think I feel a contest coming on.
How about you?

Food?
Home decor?
Post-It Notes?
Coffee?
Flowers?

Think, think, think. . .
What to do, oh what to do. .

What do I write about today on this momentous occasion? What comes to mind is the passing of time and how quickly it goes. (Unless you are at work, of course, and time couldn't possibly move any slower.)  When I started vintageDandelion, I didn't know exactly where it would take me, but I do know that I am still excited about the journey. Sometimes I do get worried that I will run out of things to say.

Then I laugh. After all, when have I ever not had something to say?







Over the past two weeks, I have noticed my girls developing a new skill. French braiding hair. I have always been the Braid Queen at this house, but even as I write this, Amy is braiding my hair. She braided Heather's hair. At camp last week, she braided her camper's hair. She even did her own hair last evening. Adrienne has also learned and I saw beautiful plaits on her head yesterday.





Sigh. I think this queen has been dethroned.

It's funny, because I think of how many times they came and asked if I'd braid their hair, and I'd sigh a long-suffering sigh and do it like I was a martyr of sorts. Usually, this was because they would come and ask me at either a really early hour of the morning, or unusually late at night after I was in bed. Lately though, I have been trying to braid hair with a willing heart and use it as a time to be with my girls. And just when I get this great attitude about braiding hair, my girls learn to do it for themselves.

I think I'll sigh again.

Time passes, life continues, and my children grow. But it's good, really good. Every single day is a day to grow, to learn something new, to master something, to change what I don't like, and be thankful for what I do.

Sigh. A good sigh that brings a shimmer of tears, and makes my heart beat a steady rhythm of contentment.

Love,
Dianne

PS. I haven't forgotten about this being #200. I still want to do a contest. My girls have suggested "Knock You Naked Brownies". Yeah, I thought that would get your attention. They got mine, and oh, are they yummy. Be warned though, when you eat them, you better close the curtains and stay inside the house.


So, what do you need to do? Leave a comment on the blog site or Facebook, join the blog as a member, "like"it, share it, etc. Just so I have a name. Then I'll give it until Saturday July 28th and draw a name out. Or three. : ) I like giving gifts.  {Di}


Tuesday, July 24, 2012

ICE-CREAM at 11:00pm

Homemade Ice-Cream
It's a treat
Vanilla 
Chocolate 
Strawberry
but not Red Beet. 

Okay, okay, I'll stop now.

So the saga of the ice-cream started a few weeks ago with a recipe that Heather found. Strawberries, whipping cream, half-and-half, sweetened condensed milk, and cream soda. . . the stuff that dreams are made of. . . were the ingredients listed. 

"Tonight is the night," Heather said. "One little problem though, the ice-cream freezer is missing in action."  Well, part of it was. We had the canister, the paddle and the motor, just no bucket for the ice and salt. So, since I was at Wal-Mart and the one and only ice-cream maker was on clearance, I bought it. 

I thought we were good to go. 

Not. 

On arriving home and eagerly opening the box, all that was in there was the canister, motor and bucket. No lid, no paddle. Now, if you have ever made homemade ice-cream, the paddle part is rather essential in mixing the ingredients together and assisting it in becoming frozen goodness. The lid is to keep the ice and salt out, but also allows the motor to attach to the paddle. Another vital piece missing. 

Why would someone sell something that is missing half of it? The box had not looked opened, but I am suspicious that someone bought it, took what they wanted, retaped it carefully and then returned the box for a refund. Hmmmpphhh. 

So, mixing and matching parts that did not belong together, we used the new bucket with the old ice-cream freezer. Heather had to hold the motor in place the entire time it was freezing. At first, the canister kept catching on the ice and salt and just stopping. I kept coaxing it along and after a while, it seemed to get the idea and cooperated with us. 
Go Heather. . . go Heather. . .
That's my girl!


This is the ice-cream freezer with missing vital parts. Hmmmph.

That's Heather again, tasting the results. She did share the beater with me, of which you will not see a picture of.


Now, this is the bowl of almost finished Strawberry Ice-Cream. According to my chef, it now needs to "cure" in the freezer until 11:00pm tonight.

That's right 11:00pm.
Does she not know what cruel and unusual punishment is?

Maybe if I looked like I was starving.

Yeah right, like she'll believe that.

Maybe I'll just sneak over to the freezer with a spoon. . .





But no, that would make me as devious as the ice-creamer freezer parts thief. I am the bigger person here.

And I will be an even bigger person after I get to enjoy some of the whipping cream, condensed milk, creamer, cream soda and strawberry mixture. . .

. . . better known as ICE-CREAM!!!

Love,
Dianne

Monday, July 23, 2012

Long Live The Flower!

I often get asked if I have a big garden, of the vegetable variety, that is.
The conversation goes something like this: 

"So, you must plant a big garden?"

"No, I don't. I do have a strawberry patch though."

"Why not? I mean, you live on a farm, right?"

"Yeah, we do, and I plant a lot of flowers."

"But no vegetables? I'm surprised. You could save a ton of money planting your own. Flowers don't save money and don't make money either."

"I know, but I like flowers. Besides, I live next to a lot of Amish with produce stands, not to mention the Produce Auction in Springs, and the Farmer's Market. When I can or freeze produce, I prefer to do it all in a day or two instead of spreading it out over a month. It's more convenient that way."

"But...but... the money you could save...and the flowers, which did I mention, cost money and make none. Tsk, tsk, tsk, I thought you were more practical than that."

"Maybe that's true, but it works for me." 

End of conversation. 

I used to plant more vegetables, but over the years, they just haven't done well for me, and like I said, I live too close to a lot of people who harvest beautiful vegetables. Next year I have some ideas for  vegetables that I want to try and at least have a "salad garden", even if I am not canning heavily from it.  I want vegetable plots scattered around my yard and existing gardens rather than one large garden that I have to weed. Besides, it might confuse the hungry rabbits and groundhogs if I have little vegetable plots scattered around. Hee hee. 

As for the flowers, well, they are therapy for me. I love the variety, the color, some of the smells, and  their personalities. I used to not be able to have bouquets on the table because I had so few flowers that I wouldn't let anyone pick them. Now, I have a nice variety at different times throughout Spring and Summer. To just go and pick a random bouquet is sweet. 

This is why I plant flowers. They may not make money, but they grow contentment, peace, and joy. 
Enjoy!









Oh, and this fellow? He was just hanging around, praying, on the yarrow. Ryan and I just had to check him out further. Pretty amazing. I think I'll call him Pierre.

VIVE LA FLEUR!

Dianne

Sunday, July 22, 2012

An Afternoon Reprieve

Reprieve: to give relief or deliverance to for a time

I got a reprieve from work tonight. Scheduled to work three in a row, tonight was my third night. Our census is low and I got to be "off, but on-call." A reprieve.

I slept most of the day, and when I got up this afternoon, I headed to the pond to join Heather and Ryan. Armed with a blanket, an over-due library book that I am determined to finish before tomorrow, a cooking magazine, a travel mug of coffee, and my camera, I am ready for relaxation.

A glimpse. . .
Ryan's Catfish

 Leo helping to get the hook out:



Concentrating on getting the next fish:

Reason # 32 Why I love to live here:


Reason #2 Why I love to live here:

Daylily

Sometimes even weeds are beautiful:

. . . and more weeds



 A welcome afternoon of doing nothing much of anything, and I loved every minute of it.

Love,
Dianne