Yesterday was a slack off today and today is the kid's birthday. And since nobody wants to work on their birthday, the Planner and the Kid had another free day. But this was a fun day. Not one bit of work was done.
This day has been in the making for weeks and weeks. The Kid has been counting down for months and months. Seriously. He started sometime after summer. "Hey mumma, it's only three months till my B-Day!" "Hey mumma, its only two months till my B-Day!" "Hey mumma, it's only two weeks till my B-Day!" And on and on it went. I was so tired of hearing about how many days, then how many hours it was until his birthday.
To his credit, I used to do the same thing to my mom every year. Then I did the same thing to the Planner for the first 12 years. After hitting the big 3-0, I could give two shits less about my birthday. Oh yea, it's my birthday, great another year older, big whoop-dee-do. Once the Kid was old enough to understand his birthday, I started celebrating his. And let me tell you, I celebrate it to the fullest. I even celebrate his half birthday. On his half birthday, he only gets half a cake, or half of a cupcake, or half of sundae, half of whatever the treat is being served. The other half is given away.
This year, was the first year he was aware this his birthday was coming and he lived up the moment. He had his whole day planned. He knew what he was gonna do during the day (play all day and not do a
lick of school work) and what his presents (remote control, rechargeable
battery operated hovercraft or sailboat) were going to be. He knew what he was going to have for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. In the past, only dinner was celebrated because everybody was gone during the day at work and school. Therefore dinner is kid choice. No matter what he wants, he can have for dinner. Within reason. I mean seriously, he can't have a bowl of sugar. Jesh, even on your birthday there should be limits.
Of course, being a kid, he had what any kid would want. SUGAR! So yes, we had sugar for dinner in the form of waffles. What are waffles if they are not sugar. Bread and syrup. Sugar and sugar. Thank you to my friend for her the use of her well worn, well loved belguim waffle maker. They were so fantastic, that I forgot to take a picture of the waffles being consumed.
Here's the thing about birthdays. You never really get what you truly want. Instead, you get what you get and you can't throw a fit. Fortunately for kids, they are happy with most things received. It's not like he just got new whitey-tideys. Remember, this is the kid who went as a cardboard box for Halloween. He was a happy camper with his gift results, even when he discovered that several gifts were delayed due to holiday backlog. Delayed as in two weeks.
So while he did not get a remote control hovercraft, he did get a remote control, battery operated dune buggy. There was also a toy Case tractor, some rope and carbine clips, and a few Lego minifigs. And then there was the piece de' resistance: our friend, the Sailor, took him our for a day trip on his 23' sailboat. I would say the kid had a pretty good birthday.
Happy Birthday, Stinky Feet! And, no you cannot have a bigger sailboat for your birthday next year. I'm just saying....
This was my view outside my office this morning. Yes, I know. I have the best job ever.
And this was my view when I came home this afternoon. Yes, I know. I have the best family ever.
After a week long staycation, it was decided that today was going to be an easy day. Since all the electrical lines are working and the PVC lines are not leaking, the only thing on the agenda for today was to smooth out the trenches and place the deck. With all this sand and dirt from construction, the trailer needs a barrier. A place to stomp your feet and remove your boots. Once completed, the Planner and the kid sat back and enjoyed the warm sunny day
Can't believe another week has gone by. Seriously need to consider taking a real vacation. Go hiking or camping or something. This work, work, work all day long can get to be just too much. The rational part of the mind says "look at all the was accomplished in these few days", "your now living the long-lived dream", "time spent with family is never time wasted". Yada, yada, yada. All I know is tomorrow is Monday and I have to go back to work. Tired, not rested. All that work and only a few projects were done. Mainly, the shower. Using the same shop vacuum method, electricity was running the full width of the property, 250 feet. While taking just a little longer in the process, everything worked exactly the same. Excellent. Of course, this was 12guage wire, not 8guage as before so I am sure this helped.
The only thing different was the mess created from the kite string and nylon rope. It was like a mad spider attacked me. The kite string was a lost cause. There were just too many knots to salvage. When pulling the nylon rope, the kid was used to help lay it out as it was pulled. This helped but it was still a process to roll it back onto the spool neatly.
Once the wire was pulled, the wires were attached to the well. After fixing the original wiring done by the well company to something more user-friendly, the well was wired and working. All that was left was the running of the PVC from the well to the shower by the RV pad site.
Things were going easy until the bend by the septic tank. Let me just say me and the one-inch mark. It shows its ugly head when you least expect it. Like when the local hardware stores are closed and there are no parts to replace the mess up forcing me to drive 20minutes to the box store. Ugh, commuting. Not only did I mess up on the measurement, the angle was miscalculated.
New parts and an hour later, the PVC lines were completed. The post was installed, the hose bib was installed, and the garden hose was attached. Now to test the pressure. This was a new concept. Did not realize water coming into a home was regulated. Makes sense once it was been explained. How else would the city line be able to move those distances?
The pump was turned, water ran out with enough pressure, and the salt still remained. Damm, no salt fairies came to steal the salt away. It is only for showering. It is only showering. It is only for showering. Positive, positive, positive. To the quote, the Planners favorite saying: "How does one eat an elephant? One bite at a time."
Several weeks ago we repossessed the BBQ pit from the Worrier. For the last few years, it has resided at his lake house where he modified it by adding the firebox. Being it was his BBQ pit in the first place that he donated to us and was donated back to him, I guess he could modify it all he wanted. Lately however, the Worrier has decided wood BBQ pits are too much work and now uses a gas pit. A gas pit! That is as unTexan as one can get. But hey, whatever cooks his meat, cause now we have the pit back. And it is a great pit. Even better now with the added firebox. Thank you Worrier for your unTexan cooking.
Being Thanksgiving and all, having family come to help us move, and not being cold outside because hey this is Texas after all, it was decided to spend the weekend cooking a Turkey on the pit. Nowhere in the Thanksgiving manual does it say turkeys had to be cooked in the oven. So sue me if I am screwing up your image of the perfect Thanksgiving. Oh, did I fail to mention that on Thanksgiving day, we had leftover brisket and all the trimmings for lupper? Yes, lupper. Lunch combined with supper is lupper. Yes, brisket. And let me tell you, the brisket was delicious. Mmm, mmm, mmm. Thanksgiving brisket.
Never having cooked a turkey on the pit, the Planner did some research and found this great post about splitting a turkey down the middle. Butterflying. Cooking in this fashion reduces the cook time and leaves the breasts moist. Heck yeah, who doesn't love moist breasts? Once the difficult process of removing the turkey's backbone was done, the cooking process was exactly as it was claimed. It was a minimalist's dream come true. Less cooking time, less time cutting because it falls off the bone, and no aluminum foil needed to maintain its moisture. This was the best turkey ever. Oh, and a butterflied chicken. It was a poultry smorgasbord. Deep-fried turkeys have nothing on the butterfly BBQ turkeys. Delicious!
And while there is nothing more relaxing than watching food cook on the pit, work had to be done. Unfortunately, this work required correct footings.
My footings to be exact. The trench lines needed to be covered in with dirt and compacted before filling with the tractor. The Planner's feet were too big, the kids' feet were too small, and mine, well mine were just right. Damm the luck. 250' feet of trench stomping was my reward for the perfect size feet. The price of running water and electricity. Guess there are worse outcomes. Stomp, stomp, stomping my way to BBQ turkey in aluminum foil.....
The day has finally come. Can you believe? Not me, and I just did it. The Airstream has moved to Plan473. The property is no longer the property, Plan473 is now home. There is spetic, electricity, and water. Okay, there is not well or city water, but there is enough water in an IBC tote to last a few weeks. I mean good golly, there is already 14KWH on the meter just from the septic system pump running. 14KWH to run a pump that does not even have poop in it yet. So yeah, home. Home is where you make it, right? Or is it, home is what you make it? Or how about, home is where you tow it?
Moving is bittersweet, it always is. Since the very first move when leaving the parents house many, many, many years ago, to the move today, there have been ten moves in twenty years. Good grief Charlie Brown! Ten moves in twenty years, that is a lot of moves. These moves have been across town and to different cities, from rentals to homes to RVs to rentals and back to the RV again, from wanted and necessary to unwanted and forced, and from exciting to what the hell am I thinking scary. No matter the reason for the nine moves before today, none of the moves were as stressful as today's move. No, this move did not involve the packing up of boxes. No, this move did not involve the removal of unwanted, unused, unneeded crap. And no, this move did not require the process of settling into a new homestead. This move was not any different than the move from one RV location to another. In essence, that was exactly what this move was, the move from one RV park to our own RV park. Huh, RV park Plan 473. Yeah, that is NOT okay. Plan473 is not an RV park. It is an idea, years in the making, in working form. So from this stance, as compared to other moves, this move should have been easy.
But, for lots of reasons, it wasn't. For the first time ever, family came to help move. Came to help move, are you kidding me? We are moving the self-contained living quarters two miles down the road. The only thing needing to be "moved" are the few extras stored outside: the kid's toy box, the kayaks, the rugs to keep the sand at bay, and the deck. There are no outside table and chairs, no plants or shrubbery, no garden tools or lawn equipment. But like hell if I am gonna turn down help. One less kayak I have to move is one less kayak I have to move. Bring on the family. Besides, it is the Thanksgiving holidays and our time is being spent with family. Just not in the traditional pass the turkey and dressing, please. More like, pass the straps and tie the ropes, please.
Then again, there is the saying, too much of a good thing. Not only did family come to help, the neighbors came in full force. It was the raising of a wall moment. There were helpers and watchers, unsolicited advisors and directors, cheerers and worries, and of course those that just get in the way. As I stood watching these people do my work, I was saddened by the sudden loss of my community.
These people have been my neighbors for years. The kid turned three the first time we lived at the park and then he turned seven when we moved back and will turn nine in just a few days. These people have watched him grow from a tight curly, white blond hair to straight, stringy Nirvana hair, from a mini bike with extra large training wheels to 20"' wheels and stunt pegs, from chubby little-uncoordinated arms and legs to long lanky, never stop moving, limbs. These people are as much his family as his family is. They have been with him for half his life. There are days when he is gone for too long and when he is found, he is found with a neighbor, talking and carrying on about who only knows what. Knowing the kid, it is probably the family secrets. When new neighbors move in, we are introduced as the kid and the kid's parents. Makes me wonder if our neighbors even know our names. Sure they do, right, maybe? Nah probably not, we are the kids' parents. And as I stand there watching, it occurs to me that this move is unlike any other move before. This move is the removal from a community. So while too much help can be a bad thing, I will let these people help because if reversed, I would want to help too. That's what family is all about, helping.
After many affection goodbyes and good riddances, the crazy train left. There was the family with the extras on their trailer, the Planner with the Airstream, and me with the kid and the dog bringing up the rear in the beep-beep acting as the buffer between the rest of the world and the crazy caravan in front. One left out of the park and two rights later, the train pulled into the driveway leading home. In that short amount of time, a crazy tag along had been picked up at the end of the caravan.
Don't you know that crazies attract crazies? This crazy following us is the best crazy ever, the Caretaker. The Caretaker, on her way to visit with her family, bought us leftover Thanksgiving dinner. She knew that A) we did not celebrate turkey day yesterday in preparation for the move today, B) we would be tired from moving and would not have planned dinner for tonight, and C) we never turn down free food. Her leftovers were not scrapes either. These plates, filled to the brim, contained the full turkey day meal and came with desert. The only thing missing was canned cranberry sauce. But since I am the only person in my family who likes the gelled canned cranberry flavored sauce, the plates were perfect. Like I said, the Caretaker is the best crazy ever! And why is she crazy you ask? Well, because she is friends with me and claims to enjoy my company. Like I said, crazies attract crazies.
The move to Plan473 is difficult. There is no easy connection to water, no pre-established clean pad-site, no amenities such as running water, laundry facilities, or paved roads. This move did not result in more living space, a garage, or a backyard. This move is a constant reminder of the absence the long term plans and goals: chickens, aquaponics, water collection facilities, and solar power generation. Minimalist living. But that is not right either. There will be a room for the Planner and me, a room for the kid, a kitchen, a living space, and a bathroom. None of these will be combined in anyway shape or form. So no, not minimalist living by current standards. These rooms will be adequate, not excessive. There is a difference. And that difference is the difference between Plan473 and everybody else. No two families have the same idea for "what is adequate". Some of our closest friends live in a 3000sf home, not including the basement and the four car garage. Yet this family of four fills up every room comfortably. This modern home is what works best for them and that is okay with Plan473. Just don't ask Plan473 to have an extra bedroom for the occasional guest. Sorry, not gonna happen. If you want to visit with us you better pack a tent, bring a camper, or rent a hotel room. You can stay as long as you want, but there will not be an extra room. You can, of course, sleep on the couch if there is one some day down to the road. Plan473 is what is right for us at this time. No, not today but when completed. So yeah, Plan473. Home to the Planner, me, the kid, and the crazy dog.
Compared to yesterday, today was an easy day. It was just the installation of the RV power pole and the running of the electrical lines. Simple right? Right, yet these two simple tasks still consumed the entire day. It is amazing where the time goes. Last week while the Planner was in big city #1, he gained some insights on how to easily pull electrical wiring through the conduit. This advice did not come the 35+ year master electrician. No, this advice came from the 35+ year welder who loves to read home improvement manuals. His advice is so simple and easy it sounds too good to be true. Remember what I said last time, if it is too goo to be true, then it is. His advice, run the electrical line with the use of a shop vac. Yup, a shop vac. And boy howdy, let me tell you, it worked like a charm.
First. Tie a piece of plastic to 500 feet of string. Not fancy string, either. Just plain old, jane ol' kite string. The same kind found in the hardware section of the box store. It comes in pink, green, yellow, red, white, and orange. Of course, colors represent weight and this jobs only requires the light weight stuff. Once the plastic is tied, stuff it into the conduit at one electrical box.
Second. Attach a shop vac to conduit pipe at the other electrical box. And yes, just a plain old, jane ol' shop vac purchased at any big box store. Nothing fancy, nothing special. Turn on the shop vac and just a few seconds later, out comes the string and plastic tie. Now for the RV electrical panel, the string was pulled around 150feet. Later in, this same process will be used to run the electrical lines to the well. That distance is 250feet. It will be interesting to see if this process works just as well.
Third. Remove the plastic and attach the kite string to the nylon rope and secure with electrical tape. And no, it was not fancy rope either. This was the nylon twisted, frays at the end, rope. From the other electrical panel, pull the kite string back dragging the nylon rope as you pull. This step takes more than a few seconds but it is easily done.
Fourth. Remove the kite string from the nylon rope and attach electrical wires. Secure with lots and lots of electrical tape to ease the pulling process. From the second electrical panel pull the nylon rope back dragging the attached wires as you pull.
Last. Install electrical wires. Tee-dee, electrical panel to the RV completed. Easy peasy, just like the advisor said it would be. As it turned out, it was NOT too good to be true. Fancy that.
So, yes it was really easy but time-consuming all the same. Once the panels were completed and electricity was tested, the poles were firmly secured with the tractor. All that was left was to smooth out the RV pad site for the Airstream placement tomorrow. If it doesn't rain, that is. I'm telling you, it doesn't rain unless there is an outside event taking place that cannot be pushed back. Of course, it didn't take long for the kid to realize what was going on with the tractor and here he came a running. "The backhoe! Cool! It's my turn, right?" And on and on and on the badgering went.
There was nothing better than the joy on his face when playing with the backhoe attachment. Have no doubt in my mind he will dream of backhoes in his sleep tonight. It was a proud parent moment.
The holiday season is upon us. Holidays are a time to visit with family, extended family, and friends who are like family. Holidays are that one time a year when differences are put aside and you are grateful to have family and friends to share in the festivities. Sheeeet, yeah right, holidays are about spending money. Money spent on gifts for them, gifts for you. Money spent on food, travel, clothes, decorations, and all the other crap that goes with the holidays. Yeah, the crazy season is upon us.
The good thing about the holidays, are the days off. Most businesses are closed Thursday and Friday for the Thanksgiving holidays. Many people use the long weekend as a mini vacation. A vacation to spend time with extended families in other cities, states, or countries. Of course, many people use the long weekend for shopping. Whichever is more important. Then there are the people who have to work during the holidays. The nurses at the hospitals, the convenience store clerks, the cashiers and stockers at the retail stores in preparation of the Black Friday craziness, and me at Plan473. Okay, that is not necessarily the truth. Monday and Tuesday were at the seven to four job. Wednesday through Sunday from daylight to dark was at the Plan473 job. Not that I consider Plan473 a job or work. The Thanksgiving holiday weekend was another staycation. This time, there was a deadline. Plan473 had to be ready for the Airstream move over from the RV park by Friday. There needed to be water, electricity, and sewer ready and working. Oooh, wheee. It will be a busy, busy, week.
Have you ever seen electrical conduit cemented together? Cemented as in joined, kinda like glue. Let me say right now, it is not "glued" together. Glue, according to dictionary.com, is "an adhesive substance used for sticking objects or materials together." Cements are not glue. Apparently, this is one of those trade specific OCD things. Glad that was clarified. Wouldn't want to call a chicken a bird. Anyhoo, or dare I say, anyglue.... Cementing electrical conduit together is a fascinating experience. Electrical conduit cement does exactly what the name states. It cements the two pieces together. Here's how it works: solvent is spread on both ends of the electrical conduit and then the two pieces are pushed together where they chemically bond together. That's right, chemically bonded. E-Z Weld best describes the technical process. "Solvents attack the surfaces of the pipe and fitting, causing them to soften and swell. The swelling of the pipe and fitting continues until the gaps between the two are closed. Resin fills any gaps that may remain open. Solvents are liquid and they evaporate. As the solvents evaporate, the pipe and fitting cure into a single piece of plastic." If done right, the electrician can see the pipe melting together. Ha! I didn't say gluing. What is even more fascinating, like you can't turn away from a bad car wreck fascinating, is the fact that the everyday Joe electrician can purchase this cement over the counter, legal to use without instructions, no safety requirements needed, at any store where conduit is sold. At that my friend, is a very scary thing. If you don't believe me, just read the warning labels on the front of the can.
Holy Beegeezeer! Don't worry, electrical cement is eco-friendly! It says so directly under the name and in a box to the left. Solvent cement is "low VOC". Low VOC, as defined by the EPA, simply means the volatile organic compound gasses emitted over the course of months and years are low therefore reducing the short and long term health effects. Uh huh. So this solvent that is so powerful it melts plastic is safe for long term usage. What a load of bullarky. Fret not, only two small cans were used while installing the electrical conduit.
One final thing. This same process of chemical bonding is used to join PVC piping as well. With PVC, the process is the same but requires two steps, a primer (softening the pipe) and a cement. The application of these two steps must be done quickly. The primer is to remain wet before applying the cement and meshing of the two pipes resulting in a newly forged bond. Electrical conduit cement was scary. PVC primer and cement left me speechless. Not literally, physically. Application of these solvents made the nose hairs singe, the lungs burn, and the eyes water when first opened. As the cans are exposed to the elements, the strong order dissipates, leaving you to wonder how well the chemicals are working at bonding pipes. And yes, in case you are wondering; this made in America; found in any hardware store, can be bought over the counter and is eco-friendly. That's right, as in low-VOC. Ain't American made products just great.
Plan473 and few others friends in the construction business have a running joke. Not a joke really, more like a statement, a mantra. "The one-inch mark". Never heard of it? Well, let me just say it is almost as good as the general rule of thumb that anyone who is anyone who works in measurements (seamstress, construction, electrician, plumber, hairdresser, etc..) follows: measure twice, cut once. One could even say the two mantras go hand in hand. The one-inch mark is as you guessed applies when materials are cut one inch too short. Oh yes, it is always too short. There is no such thing as one-inch too long. Good grief, everyone knows that.
The one-inch mark, oh how it rears its ugly little head at the most inconvenient times. Like when there is a limited amount of supplies, when materials being cut cost more than you make in a day, or when mistakes cannot be covered. Yup at the most inconvenient times. Some may say the mistakes are made because of time restraints or from not paying attention. But that is not true, not always anyways. The one-inch mark, it gets me every time. Would it help to say that I measured twice, cut once, and it was still one inch too short.
During the installing of PVC lines, the well water was used to wash out the IBC totes and freshen up the water before attaching it to the PVC for shower water. You read right, shower water. Just because there is no fresh water does not mean the well water cannot be used to shower. For Plan473, showering consumes the majority of our daily water usage. And since at this point, we are collecting our drinking and cooking water from other sources, we decided to shower with the well water. So as to not make a mess again below the well and in front of the conex boxes, the water and totes were dragged away from the work areas to in among the trees. To do this, the brand new, still in the binding, industrial strength garden hose was busted out. Oooh, how I do love a new garden hose. It doesn't pinch or bind, it re-rolls up easily, and it still smells of rubber. Yup, new garden hoses are great.
UNLESS, of course, you have purchased this garden hose. Oh sure it rolled out great, there was no pinching or twisting or binding, and once used, it re-rolled up great too. So what was so wrong you ask? GLITTER, freaking glitter. Yes, I said GLITTER. GLITTER on a garden hose. It is a garden hose, not a girly, girly, swirly tutu. A garden hose! And oh, this glitter, this glitter was the super fine glitter that sticks to your skin and can clog a pore. This glitter is the glitter that will not be rubbed off, washed off, or pinched off. This glitter is the glitter that eventually just disappears. Disappears to who knows where. It is probably absorbed into the skin. Ugh, GLITTER on a brand new garden hose. A GARDEN HOSE!
Argh. It ruined my whole new garden hose experience. Don't know what freaking genius decided glitter should be placed on the shell of garden hose but they should be dragged into the yard and beaten with a piece of this garden hose. I wanted to be like the little old lady from the Discount Tire commercial from the 90's. I wanted to throw my garden hose straight through somebody's corporate office for a full refund. No, wait, a full refund and compensation for my mental anguish. IT IS A GARDEN HOSE! For the love of peter, paul, and mary.
You've heard me complain several times about the crappy level of our well water. But nothing, I mean NOTHING, prepared me for what happened today. Standing over the IBC tote watching the water, one was assaulted by the smell being emitted. Guess not having the water moving allowed the sewer smell to strengthen, to gain intensity, to reach a whole new level of crap-aroma. It was awful, just awful. Words fail me. Then, when I think nothing could be worse than smelling sewer water filled with rotten eggs being emitted from our well debating if it will the smell would clear out, a whole new level of crapiness was reached.
Do not by any means add bleach to mineral-laden well water. Chlorine reacts with iron minerals resulting in poo colored water. And not just slightly, off colored water. I am talking about the results when poo in a cup is blended with a little water. Dee-sgust-ing. When the water finally filled the top, the color was still off. Now it was more like strong black tea, but disgusting all the same.
To the horror, it did not end there. Once the water was drained, the tote did not smell of sewer or bleach or any other funk but what remained was disturbing. Sand. Yes, yes, I know. We live in sand-clay land. The lab results did not show sand sediments in their reports. Trying to wash out sand from a tote with water that contains sand is a never ending process. At some point, a truce is called and the sand wins. Besides, there are other more important things to be working on while on this staycation.
Like acquiring drinking and cooking water from other sources. This was the first of two totes, each 275gallons, Plan473 will be using for the next month. At least. Hopefully. Like I said, showering in salt water will help conserve the fresh water.
With septic installed and working, water and electrical lines trenched and covered, IBC totes filled with water, the only thing for Thursday's agenda is the installation of the RV power pole and the running and connecting of the electrical wiring to the well and RV power pole. If all goes according to plan, the Airstream will be moving over on Friday. Hot dog, woo hoo, Plan473 is going to be home, not just the property. Here's hoping....
