The Half House Has Arrived

Look it, look it.  Conex one of two for the house has arrived.  One half of the house is visibly sitting at Plan473.  This is not to be confused with the halfway house as in the previous post.  This is just half of the total house.  Having been purchased many many months ago, the two conex boxes have been sitting in storage at the Worriers property.  At the end of February, the Worrier is retiring and moving to do fun things for a change.  And for all those people (Plan473 included) who have been storing crap at his property, they have to come to collect or it will be sold with the land.  YIKES.

Plan473 has made about four trips to and from Big City #1 to collect our goods.  Some of the goods were personal (old wedding dress and suit), some were work-related (materials bought in large quantities for cheaper costs), and some were Plan473 (house boxes). But as when most people move, they end up selling or donating lots of good stuff so they don't have to pack it, move it, and unpack it. The Planner made off with some good stuff for future usage at Plan473.  Those things will be mentioned as they are used.  Thank you, Worrier, as all of this good stuff was free.  The best kind of stuff, good, free, and useful.

Having to bring home the boxes required some planning.  Where were they going to be placed where they would not be in the way?  Where were they going to be placed where they would not float away?  Where would they be placed where they could be easily reloaded onto the trailer again if needed?  The best area for ease of drop off and pick up holds water.  Wait, everywhere holds water it seems.  To off set the water issue, we used a mumbo-jumbo telephone pole as corner blocks.  The poles once belonged to my neighbor who told us we could have them if we needed them.  That was two years ago and the need was not needed.

Now with a need, the pole was pulled out of the pile of rubble.  It was so big and heavy only the end could be picked up by the tractor.  A section was cut off and then cut again into 1-foot sections.  Four were needed but five were made.

Cutting them was a little more than the saw could handle.  The wood was wet/rotten in the middle and the blade did not reach all the way across.  Never having let this stop us before, the sections were cut in stages and life proceeded. A newer blade and a better running saw would have helped too.  But hey, this saw has not been used since Harvey over a year ago so the fact it started and ran on the first pull was a testament to its great product.  A little blue smoke never hurt anything.  It got the job done all the same.

How do I know the saw needed a new blade?  The blade produced dust, not chips.  With a new blade, this would not look like dirt, it would like pencil shavings.  Notice all the color variations.  Some of this is wet wood, some of this is old dry wood, but most of this is oiled wood. Overall the blocks even with the wet/rotten middle, will work for the conex box.

With the blocks ready, now it was time to slide the box off.  But first a quick fix of a mishap on my part.  In attempting to remove the ramps from the storage box, I hooked the tractor fork over one brace and under the second.  When the ramps were lifted off the ground and into the air they slide down the fork and got stuck.  Like stuck, stuck.  With time not on our side as the rain was coming yet again, the Planner simple removed the second brace and life went on. To my credit, I was unaware of the bracing under the ramps as this is normally not my job duty.  It has always been done by the Planner or the Worrier.  And to think I was just trying to be helpful.  Good intentions all that...

Once fixes, the ramps and tractor were aligned.  The conex was chained to the tractor and away I pulled with the truck.  Easy peasy, so to speak.  If I were being honest, it really was one of the best pull-offs.  I personally just can't stand the What Ifs.  What if it wedges against the slide rails?  What if the chain breaks?  What if the slides off the ramp crooked?  What if, what if, what if?  It is all undue stress and it wears me out.  My stress wears out the Planner and the Kid.  Pull-offs are exhausting work.

Don't take my word for it even the dog-o is exhausted. Turned her heating pad on for her old crunchy bones and she was done for the night.  It may only be 3:53pm according to the date stamp on the video but the dog-o is done-o.

I'm telling you, pull-offs are exhausting.

Double Digit Plus One

When the Kid was a toddler and his age was asked, I was NOT one of those parents who held onto the month's stage.  Oh, he is 18 months, 24 months, 36 months.  No, the Kid was a year and a half, two years, three years. Last year he was double digits and being a deal to kids I did not steal this moment from him.  However, from this point forward he is now just 11, 27, 57.  He is not double digits plus one nor will he be one year shy of legal drinking or the big 4-0.  What this means is the Kid is simply eleven years today.  Eleven!

Every time I turn around another part of his childhood is gone. Take these feet.  Look how big they are, how long the toes are.  Is this normal?  Should the second toe be longer than the first toe? Don't mind he is standing on top of the table to admire his concerte chair tower, just notice the feet.  They are the focus here, not the fact that I am letting him stand on a table that is broken and wobbly.

Of course, there are days when he is still kid like in actions.  But then again what full grown adult does not like snowball fights?

When working with metal, he remembers to wears gloves without being reminded.  It happens this was cold and that helps.  But here he is helping with a smile.  A SMILE! Making a spiders web mess ensuring the job is done right the first time, but helping all the same.  As to why he has a flashlight on his head in the middle of the afternoon, well he is a kid after all.

Sometimes I catch glimpses of the little kid like in this picture.  Sweet, simple, innocent smiles. Ten thousand hair ties on his arm and a book in lap.  However, as this picture is taken at the club waiting for sailing, it only shows how adult like he is too.  Being productive while waiting for coaches to arrive when he could be just running around like a crazy kid.

Other times I go looking for the kid and see the mini adult.  Wanting all the sailing participants to have a swag gift when attending his local club regatta, he diligently (and sometimes painstakingly) made over 70 monkeys fist.  He thought of the idea, he found the perfect gift, he made sure I ordered the string.  When the going got tough, he sought out help in the form of an aide.  He found the aide and had the Planner help make the aide.  He made all the gifts.  Each took about 7-10 minutes each.  A few each day and over several weeks he was done.  What an adult thing to do.

Then again, there are the days where the kid is 100% evident.  The face may be thin and void of baby chunk, the attitude is kid.  The body is tall and lean, the muscles are weak and underdeveloped.  Look at him struggle to lift this box full of parts.  Stubborn and proud, he tried his best.

And when the solar eclipse lenses were rediscovered, he took every opportunity to use them and ahh in the amazingness produced, even if it is just from the regular sun.

Growing up must come in stages.  After having to strive and test his endurance to finish a challenging regatta, he was seen for days playing with kid toys. Hot Wheels, Tonka Trucks, and John Deere equipment.  Roads, bridges, and tunnels. Shovels, rakes, and wagons.  No adult actions here.

But every night as he is tucked in, I am reminded that while during the day he struggles with the internal conflict of kids vs adult, he is still my kid and I will let him kid as long as possible because there is plenty of time to adult.

In fact, there is too much to time adult and not enough time to kid.  So with his much beloved Raffi and his new found favorite blanket (it is sailing associated), he can kid all night and morning long.  If he wants to suddenly cuddle on the couch, so be it.

If he wants and wishes for LEGOS, so be it.  His needs are simple.  Sailing, LEGOS, Raffi.  Everything else is hit and miss, come and go.

He is a great kid when he is a kid.  He is a challenging mini adult when he is mini adulting.  Of course, having the Perfectionist Planner and the crazy mama as parents he has every right to have difficult adult days.  We make parenting interesting.  He makes parenting interesting.  Better interesting than boring.  Happy Birthday, Stinky Feet!

Halfway House

 

There are several modes of thought when it comes to job completion.  Depending upon the situation Plan473 has used all of them.  Everybody has used them all unless you are a freak of nature.  Even still, I bet there is that time.  That time that is hidden deep in the dark corners of your personal skeleton closet.  You can lie to others but cannot lie to yourself.

Get It Done.  The job may be done but it probably done wrong or not done to the best it can be done. The Kid falls into the position daily.  For example, the bed is made as in the sheets cannot be seen.  However, the edges are not tucked in and the pillows and stuffed animals are askew. I am not asking for military edges but come on.

The dog-o recently fell into this category.  Having never been a burying creature before, she recently decided this was the best way to ensure the bone remained hidden from the chickens.  What she fails to understand is that to bury is to be completely hidden.  Dig a hole, place said object into hole, cover hole.  Many woodland creatures with fewer brains cells do this daily.  Placing a bone on a pile of leaves a scratching over it as a cat would cover is waste is not burying.

Some would call Get It Done half-assed.  Not being half-assed was drilled into our head a child and carries into adulthood as guilt.  Daddy would say "what the point of doing it if you ain't gonna do it right. You've just wasted your time and mine as I have to fix/finish/complete it."  He's right.  Doing something right the first time is always easier.  Not always faster, but better.  Half-asses guilt is the worse type of guilt.  It is guilt that comes from when you know you can do better but didn't.  Even when the half-ass job was justified, the guilt still comes.  Such as the Shop Box or Work Box.  Neither one is complete just workable.  Justification says to get enough done to move onto the next project.  Guilt says the project will never get done if you don't do correct the first time.  The work may be half-assed, but the guilt is fully complete.

Best of the Best.  The job is done to the best of the best that it can be done. Daddy had his own lawn business for years and years and had no patience for anything but perfect for yard maintenance.  It did not matter if the yard was in the elite district or in the ghetto, his work was primo.  Grass is collected not blown into the street for cars to sweep away. Leaves are collected not mulched into the yard (unless requested).  Trimming is done with both string and blades to keep crisp lines.  Yard work is art and a representation of your abilities.  Nobody buys crappy art.

Having worked for him since I was ten, then taking over the company myself for a bit as an early adult, I too have NO patience for less than perfect yard work.  The Planner having worked for him as a way to spend time with me (what young love will do), he too has little patience for scraggy yard work.

Plan473 does not believe in park-like settings.  We want natural landscaping to beautify with so as to attract wildlife.  There are times, grasses are three foot tall and only walking paths are maintained.  Then there are times such as in winter when the yard is trimmed and mowed to perfection.  American Beautyberries, wild butterfly plants, coral both bushes and vines, brambleberry, and numerous other native grasses are all removed and prepared for winter months.

Mowing takes hours.  Trimming takes all day.  Sometimes two. But when it is done, boy howdy what a picture.  Nothing but the best of the best job done.

On a side note look how well the trees have bounced back 14 months after Harvey.  They will never be what they were before but they are making some nice headway.  All this rain has been sure to help.   Halfway trees are better than no trees.

Speaking of halfway, Plan473 has turned into the underground poultry halfway house.  A friend of mine works for the local bird rescue center.  Not certified for game birds, she asked if I had room for one very frightened young bird.  Unsure if was male or female, if it would be accepted or not into our flock, or if she would stay once allowed out of the coop, we brought her home at the beginning of November.

Poor thing was attacked and missing feathers on half her back, half her neck, and half the side under one wing.  After being left in the dog kennel for a week, the kennel door was left open to allow access to the coop on the bird's terms.  There was some squawking and pulled feather as the pecking order was realigned, but the new bird found Plan473 satisfactory.  As with all the other birds (who are not pets as I keep reminding the Kid) the bird was properly named B.U. (pronounced boo).  Under the circumstances, the name is fitting as the bird is Butt Ugly.  I wanted to name her Darth Maul after the Star Wars character but was decided against.  "All of our birds have unique names!", squawked the Kid. And yes, I named her B.U. as the Kid named all the other birds.

Since Plan473 doesn't like to do things half-assed, another chicken arrived through the underground halfway channel.  This one, similar in breed to B.U. arrived under his own accord right after Thanksgiving.  He is skittish and thin and not accepted into the pack.  Some of the hens tolerate him if he is close by but others become agitated and chase him.  The rooster is beside himself as he feels his pack stance is threatened.  He never lets an opportunity to chase the young rooster slip by.  The rooster chases the young rooster to the far ends of the property and then returns to flock his hens.  This action then enrages some of the hens who don't want to be flocked about.  These have been some tense days for the chickens.  With time, I am sure they will all settle into their routines again.  To think I just wanted a few chickens to help with the bugs and to lay a few eggs.  Now there are 10 hens, 2 roosters, and one unknown.  If the young rooster stays much longer, the Kid is going to name hmi so he better decide quickly. Unlike myself, the Kid will plan and debate over naming the new chicken.  Names are not given with half-assed thought, they are chosen.

There are many jobs at Plan473 that are completed in the half-ass fashion.  They were done out of necessity, not a choice.  When but given a choice, jobs are done and completed in the Planner perfectionist style.

Perfectionist: This is the job that is completed above and beyond resulting in excess.  Jobs in this category usually takes too much time and cost too much.  Yes, the job was done and it was done right but it could have been done quicker and easier and just as completed without errors.


Such example is the halfway step. Stepping in and out the Rainstream door with an overflowing laundry bucket, bags full of groceries, and carrying the dog can be challenging.  The step is quite high and sometimes requires the use of holding onto the door itself for support.  Being the trailer is fifty years old, bearing down on the door is causing the door to sag.  To fix this, I asked for a simple half step.  As you can see, this was not a half-assed job completed.  This step is just one of the many examples of the Planners perfectionist taking control.  Is it a nice step, yes.  Could it have been done simpler, maybe?  Did the screws need to be positioned symmetrically, no?  Alas, it works and I did not have to make it.  Let me assure you, had I made it the final result would have been closer to half-assed as I lack the skills to make it this nice.

Half-asses jobs have a time and place and are not always bad in connotation. I prefer to make tasty lemon deserts with lemons.  It's all about perspective.  Just like this hummingbird feeder.  To me, it is murky and needs cleaning.  To the honey bees, it is perfection.

Perception.  The glass is half _____. With rain, comes ______.  From dark, ___________.

But Why the Boot?

Have you ever seen the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie?  The original movie, before Disney went crazy with sequels?  There is a scene where  Miss Elizabeth has left on an island and she burns the rum in order to be saved and Jack Sparrow keeps muttering about why the rum. That has been my line for the last three days.

WHY THE BOOT! Why!

After weeks and weeks, no maybe even months and months of rain, the last three days have been dry and I decided to air my boots out overnight as I frequently do during the summer.  I believe it helps warrant against foot funk.  No research to back that data up, but as I had foot funk only once, I will continue to do so until proven otherwise.  Besides, leaving a shoe outside doesn't hurt the shoe.  That is unless a near do well runs off with it.

Wednesday morning, thinking the Planner or the Kid came up with some agenda to drive me crazy I let it slide.  Thursday morning I was really wanting my shoe but was willing to hold out and win this crazy game they concocted.  Friday morning I was done.  I wanted to wear my shoes.  When asked about my missing shoe, they acted all innocent and charming.  "What, where is your shoe"  Yadda Yadda Yadda as so forth.  By Friday afternoon, I was beside myself with the missing shoe.

Well as it turns out, the near do well was not the Planner nor the Kid.  It was an honest to goodness true shoe theif.  Plan473 searched high and low, through thick and thin grasses, over and under all bushes and the shoe has yet to return.  Dammit!  What the heck am I supposed to do for a boot?  Can't be expected to wear mud boots until it is found.  Can't be expected to wear thin sided Chucks with standing water everywhere.  Can't be expected to wear flip-flops as its COLD outside.  Argh!

WHY THE BOOT?  Because it is easier to run off with a leather steel toe boot than it is with a rubber flip-flop?  Why the boot?  And I only wanted to air out the boots, jesh.  Now I am bootless.  It would have been better to steal both.  Just saying.

Like I said, the rain had finally stopped. By Friday, the sun was actually showing through the clouds.  Saturday morning dawned clear and cool.  What better way to spend the day than a bike ride! The Planner had bought a bike in the last month and had not been able to test it on long trips yet.  Well, yesterday was the day.  We rode and rode and rode.  The boys jumped curbs and raced and did boy stunts.  It was great!

Sunday, the air was a little chilly but the sun was out and the breeze was gentle. What better way to spend the day as with some competitive boat races.  The Planner and the Kid in one boat, a couple of other kid sailors in another boat, the coach and a new sailor in  another boat, and a couple of other boats with college sailors.  Having never been on this boat before, the Planner relied on the Kid for complete instructions and directions.  After a few moments of bickering, the two were off.

Sitting on the dock watching the races, my mind was reeling with all the things needing to be done at Plan473.  Work that can only be done with full sun and dry weather.  Grass needs cutting, trees need trimming, and chicken coop needs cleaning.  Shop box needs repainting and Kid Box needs to placed on framework.  However, I hear the squeals and giggles of boat races I try to tell myself sometimes a break is needed to spend time as a family. Yes, both the Planner and I work from home and the Kid schools from home.  But this structured time is not the same as spending free time together.  Time with no agenda, no time constraints, no requirements to fulfill.  The Kid turns 11 next month meaning is only a matter of moments until he will not want to spend time with us.  So yes, we took the whole weekend off and spent it doing nothing.  It was great!

A Great Shower

Holy moly batman.  Plan473 has gone from cooler fall days to full on winter! Last week the Kid and I worked up a sweat on our 5mile bike ride.  The weather was cool enough to warrant a long sleeve shirt in the AM but nothing more.

This week, it is dark and gloomy, cold and windy, and wet.  Temperatures never reached above 60's and the sun was missing in action.  Cold winter days are nice in winter.  Hello, it is not even Halloween.  South Texas children do not have the luxury of participating in warm Halloween activities such as spiced drinks and stewed apples.  South Texas trick or treaters want cold punch and air conditioner.  However with Halloween just a few days away and winter seeming to already be upon us, the Halloween may be a true fall event this year.  

The problem is not that winter seems to have come early with more cold weather on the way.  The problem is that winter has come early and the outside shower was not ready for winter temperatures. Cold showers when the temperatures are a thousand degrees outside is fabulous.  Cold showers when the temperatures are in the upper 70's is manageable. Cold showers when the weather is cold and wet is not fun.

To shower in this condition once or twice is not fun but can be done.  We've all done it.  Gone camping for a week with the only shower is in a cold creek.  Rented a room in a seedy hotel with no hot water.  Hot water heater dies on a Wednesday at 8pm.  It has been done, at least once.  Plan473 did it just last year on our road trip to see the Solar Eclipse.  Bathing in a Colorado mountain feed spring is cold, cold, cold.  Cold, even in August.  But we cheated.  After a quick rinse off, one pot of warm water was splashed over the body.  Kinda of like a jump start in reverse.  Have to say after a cold shower, the outside air temperature in CO did not seem so bad.  As they say, cold is relevant.

To shower when the wind chill is in the 30's and is raining on your head with only cold water is NOT happening.  There is no amount of jumping up and down that will help.  Having a hot water heater outside has always been in the plan for the shower.  For some reason, it was not done last year. Winter showers were crouched low and managed in the Rainstream shower.  After great research, the propane on demand hot water heater was installed.  Two valves to control the water regulation of hot and cold water and a ball valve for easy off and on and the shower was complete.

Unlike all these other pins, feeds, posts, and images seen, this is a true working industrial creation. All galvanized to help against the ever-present salt air.  All easily modified if need be for future alterations.  All Planner created and designed.  All working and fantastically HOT.  Having a hot water heater will lead to an issue if not careful.  Standing in hot water feel fabulous and refreshing. Nice.  Standing in hot water for no other reason than because it is hot depletes the water source. Not so nice.  Plan473 will have to make a conscious effort to not waste water.  Maybe once the rain water collection system is up and fully working, then maybe a few minutes can be spared. Until then, it is still and in and out shower.  A nice hot in and out shower.

And let me say it was installed in the nick of time.  Feels like 46, hah.  Let those weather forecasters come stand outside in the shower and tell me it only feels like 46.  I think not.  I think it was more like 36.  And do you see it, more rain?  Rain rain go away....

The second or third day after the water heater was installed it was commandeered by green tree frogs. Six of them in all colors and sizes.  Some inside where the wiring was exposed, some on top directly next to the propane outlet, and some just hanging on the outside under the tin cover so they were out of the wind.  Not that frogs in the shower are new, just having so many at one time is a little unnerving.  Taking a shower with little green tree frogs watching from between the slats is a new (not likable) experience.  The Kid felt as if they were waiting for the perfect moment to jump into the water stream and land on him.  As this happens occasionally with tree frogs on the top of the shower head, it is not an unfound concern. One every now and again is one thing.  Six at one time, not so much.  Time to relocate tree frogs.

But because it was already cold with this second or third sudden winter snap, the tree frogs were docile.  In attempts to relocate so they were not burned (frog legs anyone?), the green tree frogs did not resist collection.  They just squatted as ready for flight but stayed poised. How many times have you got to hold a green tree frog without being peed on and for longer than 2.3 seconds?  Not often, right.  This the smallest of all removed was the most curious.  He/She watched with cold sticky feet to the Planners finger as if this mode of transportation was the best thing ever.  Or maybe he was mourning the loss of the great shower location.  Understandably, it is a great shower.

Never Again

Somethings in life fall into the never again category.  When summer is beating down, the mosquitos are ramping up, and the relentless winds are blowing away your resiliency, one being to ponder if fall is never again going to come.  This pondering always leads to the whys.  Why does anyone voluntarily live here?  Why did I move back again?  Why do I live here now?  Why, why, why? But just as you are debating the ramifications of moving away to never again return to the dreaded existence of summer coastal life, fall arrives.  Texas Fall is the best.  The weather cools off just enough a jacket or long sleeve shirt is not needed. It is cool in the am and evening and still warm all day long.

With the return of fall, comes the return of happy humans.  This fall with all the added rain, wildlife has made a giant return.  Every time the front window is opened on the Rainstream there is a green tree frog.  Every time a mud boot is pulled from it resting post there is a pill bug or other creepy legged insect. The bullfrogs croak in every standing puddle of water. The unseen crickets sing morning, noon, and night.  The last of the hummingbirds buzz by.  So yes, it seems even the wildlife are happy at the return of fall.

With the rain still holding out for over a week now, the Kid and I take every opportunity to take evening bike rides.  All summer long you look longingly at your bike and think the time will never again come where you can ride your bike longer than ten minutes without dying of dehydration and heat exhaustion.  Oh, lovely bike will I never again be able to ride with you?  But then fall arrives.  As you can see, with a Texas Fall it is still warm enough to work up a sweat.  This kid who drinks as much water as it takes to subsidize a small succulent drained this 20oz bottle of cold water.  I offered to drop him in the bay for a quick cool down but he didn't want soggy bottoms for his 4mile trip home.  Good thinking that kid.

As you sit in the evenings pondering the cooler weather and planning all the warm dinner meals that you thought you could never again eat, it happens, a blue northern.  Bamm! Out of the north without any warning the wind howls, the trees protest, and temps drop fifteen - twenty degrees in a few short hours.  Hot dog! More tasty, heartwarming, soul-filling, winter meals ahead this week.

Or not. NEVER AGAIN will this dish be made in my pressence.  It all started so innocently.  The Planner wanted a tried true (and reviewed) tasty New Orleans dish of Dirty Rice made simply with the holy trinity (onions, peppers, celery) with ground pork and chicken livers.  I make a poor mans version of Dirty Rice all the time with just ground pork, rice, and Canjun seasoning.  It must be good as there are never left overs.  The real deal he said.

Chicken livers are not for human consumption! I repeat, NOT for consumption.  At least not when I make them, anyways.  Chicken livers did not smell gamey as I was expecting them too. But they did feel gamey.  What does gamey feel like you ask?  Oh, let me describe it to you.  Dog grass yak.  Cat horkedup full balls.  Cold sticky speghetti with chuncky sauce. Grainy not fully scrambled scrambled eggs. No wait, that is what it feels like after it has been cut up into strips.  When the liver is first pulled out of the container it feels like a soggy chicken fried steak drenched in curdled milk slime.  Yeah, chicken liver feels gamey.

Not wanting to judge a dinner by its looks, I pressed on with the instructions.  Cooked chicken liver is dog food.  Still not gamey in smell but most definitely gamey in texture and apperance.  The whole process up to this point was repulisive which I found to be odd since I was raised on game meat.  If you shoot it, it must be ate in its intiriety.  My dad was not of the belief that a deer was only for the back straps and rump roasts.  My dad was the true epitome of waste not want not.  He was the only person in the world that I knew who actually took the time to painstakingly remove meat from a Hill County white tail deer.  These are not trophy deer.  These are deer who in their prime weigh less than the avaerge male in high school.  We ate the heart, the gizzrds, the feet, the brains, the tounge, the things most people don't consume unless it was a speciality fancy $300 plate.  We ate these things willingly.  Liver however some how never crossed my plate as a child.  Now I know why.  Becuase it is dog food.

After suffering through dinner and feeding the left overs to the chickens, the remaining chicken liver was cooked for the dog.  As I said, I was raised not to waste food.  Never said it didn't feed the dogs.  In case you are wondering those green things are not bell peppers added to flavor the dog's dinner.  Those green things came in the bucket of chicken liver.  Dont't know, don't care to know.

I'm telling you chicken liver is dog food.  There are numerous dishes that have chicken liver in them.  I have had some very yummy boudin and they are always made with chicken liver.  Cooking chicken liver is just not for me.

Chicken liver for dinner.  Never again. Unless I want to treat the dog to a special dinner, maybe for her next birthday or something.

Seriously, what was I thinking????