Because I like it HOT and STEAMY and....

....it's The Husband's job to take care of those needs for (music of impending doom) THE WIFE (Psycho music). In all seriousness, the old bones have decided that they don't like cold showers this Summer. I have completely washed (ha, pun) my hands of this project. I'm sick of glorified camping aka off-grid living. I just as well light a match and not turn back but I promised project coverage and I know that after I get my hot, steamy soak, I'll be my usual sweet self. 

Project sprawling all over the back yard. I'm pretty sure that ALL these forms of horse power are not necessary for a hot water install so don't panic. Yet. The fence panels are to keep the tube racks from attacking Diesel again. (You may recall we had a bloody, screaming and cutting incident late last Summer.)

View from the South. The Husband in action.

A close up. Tractor holding the 4x in place while The Husband ties the 4x's in place. We did use 4 x 6's on the horizontal braces because of the size of the "feet" on the tube racks.

Even though I'm crabby as all get out, I'm proud of The Husband working on this. 

Next up: final squaring, leveling, and pouring some concrete down the holes; neighbor coming over with his backhoe to dig the trench for the lines. Anticipating Roger of Bob's Sheet Metal after that. And then, we should have the much coveted, sought after hot and steamy soak in the clawfoot tub and all will be right with the world.  

Getting closer to

Spring and hot water.

I'm a little hesitant to say it's Spring with the way Winter hung on and really, we're closer to Summer now.

I even took a little break, if you want to call it that, from the Winter weather in the Keweenaw by going "down South" to our Northern Ohio farm. While mid-April in Northern Ohio is Spring, there was a lot of complaints from the natives about their weather. I listened politely while dressed in shorts and t-shirt. By the time it was time for me to return North, the lilacs were in full bloom and I had mowed the lawn twice at the farm.

While the break from the weather was nice, my time at the Ohio farm was definitely no vacation. I was there to prep the farm to go back on the market and find yet another real estate agent. The farm is a small 20 acre farm surrounded by a corporate farmer to the South and East. Needless to say, the corporate farm was a bit of a bully to us. It was one of the main reasons we wanted to sell and bought the place here. This corporate farmer constantly trespassed onto our property, sprayed and killed our hay. They also sprayed me - I was sick for four days. They even planted their crops on our ground. They kept cutting the growth back on our property after repeatedly telling them not to, to which they responded by nearly running me over with their brush hog. They threatened to cut my trees down. It had gone on for far too long and of course the sheriff refused to do anything about it because when you're that big, you know people. Mike finally told the guy to knock it off and leave me alone. It was also a deciding factor in my moving here ahead of Mike while he finished out his career. Mike joined us at the cabin in November 2012. All was well at the farm when he left. When I went to the farm in mid-April, it was evening and already dark when I arrived. I met daybreak missing a 660 foot line of trees. They made good on their threat, trespassed, destroyed some major timber trees, and completely destroyed the view out the back of the house. Now, lights and noise from the state route were evident with the trees gone. Additionally, they dug up the property creating a huge ditch and ripping out an official staked survey survey pin. Those pins were two - two and a half foot long rebar "pins" that were part of a $1000 survey. So, I made a phone call to the farmer. The son runs the farm. The father was the one we were having problems with. Turns out they were not aware that the father was harassing me. Seems to be a bit of a "rogue Grandpa" situation only with heavy equipment in lieu of a walker. Don't get me wrong, livid is an understatement but the job this man in his mid-80's did was quality one. I am so proud of how calm and polite I was. I just stated that something was going to have to be done about this. The farmer told me to let him know about the survey pin (cost). I did notice that the timber destruction was glossed over. I said that I could do one better and just sell the place to him. Turns out one of the employees of this farm was looking for a house and the farmer is always looking for more land so we made an appointment for the farmer and the employee to come over and look at the place. My parents came over and we scrubbed the daylights out of the house. Remember I hadn't been there for nearly three years while The Husband was "baching" it there. Mess was also an understatement. I won't get into that part of the story but the words "divorce" and "throw your body on the insurance agent's desk while I hold out my hand for a check" have been bantered about. Appointment time came and I gave a very good tour of the house, if I do say so myself. It wasn't hard to do because the house really is lovely. They left and said they'd let me know. They came back ten minutes later and said they'd take it. It took two real estate agents six months to produce NO offers. I was at the house for a week and a half and sold it. I continued to stay at the house and along with my parents, get as much cleaning and maintenance done as possible-all work that should have been done or would have to be done for financing. I'm going to spare us all the usual joyful experience working with contractors tends to be. I don't know which is harder: getting the work done or staying a free member of society while one tries to get the work done. I got home mid-May. Mike has made two trips down to Ohio to get the remainder of our belongings and move the piano. We couldn't bare to part with the piano so as of this past Monday, she is on loan to and now resides at the Calumet Art Center. We're very excited about her career in show biz. Did I mention that the piano used to belong to the ex-wife of the gentleman buying the house? Pause for shocked gasps. I know. Small world.

Closing is on the 29th. The hot water project should start up shortly thereafter. I will be covering the hot water install here in the blog. Hopefully, we will be able to end the hot water project coverage with a steamy bathtub scene.

In Other Off-Grid-y News....

I know the header picture of the Studio doesn't really fit but I can't bring myself to take it down yet. Having the Studio space last year was really a big deal for me. Yea, the roof leaked and it was raining down ceiling tiles in there and there's probably a structural problem somewhere where the floor was falling in in the one spot, but, man, it was such an awesome experience. I did get all my art supplies out by the end of my little three month lease right before the tax notice of impending doom was put on the door. I feel a little helpless when we drive by my former Studio space now. It would take winning the lottery to rehab the building. And that's just the one section of the building. It used to be a restaurant before it became part of the bakery. Anyway, I miss my Studio. On to more off-grid-y news....

We have another off-gridder amongst us. Mike met him at our local Cafe. You can meet him here at his Bootjack Cabin.

Also amongst us, a dead wind turbine. I could see myself spooking and running for my life right along side Diesel when I said that. Yes, it's the neighbor's turbine that I coveted a while back. They suffered a lightening strike this past Summer and it damaged some of their solar equipment in addition to the turbine. Still not flying so, it's been down awhile. 

And, finally, the honeymoon is over. No, not my marriage. I never even had a wedding yet alone a honeymoon. Gosh, a vacation sounds divine. Some place warm where scantily clad men feed you grapes and fan you with palm fronds. Anyway, I'm talking about the living off-grid "honeymoon." When you first go off-grid things are all new and exciting. Not any more. Sure, I still go wild when the Sun shines but I find myself muttering under my breath when I have to stop and think about flipping something on or plugging something in or starting the generator when I want to cook. Some days, I'm just not in the mood for what can feel like glorified camping. Some days, when I've haven't slept well the night before and I'm all crabby and achey, I think about bringing a line back and tying in. Some days, when I'm REALLY crabby, I just want to get the feLIONs out of the cabin, throw my favorite things out on the lawn, and drop a match as I close the door behind us. But that's when I'm REALLY crabby and Mike will give me a little bit of chocolate or the sky will clear and I'm okay again. I'm okay but, like I said, the honeymoon is over. I realize that's all dark and shadowy but I've always been honest with you and that's where I'm at in this journey. And, this has been your off-grid-y news update.

Hot Times Ahead

Okay everyone, up on your feet. Hands in the air. Whoot! Whoot! Oh yea. Oh yea. Do a little happy dance. Oh yea. Oh yea. Thanks for celebrating with me. You heard it here first. We stopped by Bob's Sheet Metal and finishing paying for the HOT WATER SYSTEM! The Husband is here at the cabin 24/7 now and we've got some help lined up for his portion of the project - sinking posts into the ground and building all the stuff the racks are going to be bolted into. Let's all dance about a bit more. Oh yea. Whoot! Whoot! And....you can sit back down again.

This photo is prior to one of the racks maliciously attacking Diesel. That's Diesel's story and he's sticking to it. It was very traumatic so we're really not talking about it. We will get new photos of all the damage as we get closer to the install - both the rack and Diesel's leg. You have been spared the worst. Diesel's leg is pretty well healed. On second thought, you will get the picture of Diesel's leg only if he decides it okay for me to take a picture of it. Like I said, he's pretty sensitive about it and we're not allowed to stare. Nobody likes to be stared at. It's not polite and in the animal kingdom it is REALLY not polite, it's predatory.

So, we're all waiting on the weather now. As soon as it's green (versus it being Winter) we are a go and, did I mention, in HOT WATER! Oh yea! Whoot! Whoot!

Still breathing, screaming, and kicking.

Today, out the front door, snow and a truck.

Quite literally all three of those things.

As you saw, I dropped off the blogosphere there again. We had a little incident that involved Diesel, the racks for the hot water system, a lot of woman screaming, a lot of horse kicking and screaming, and a lot of horse blood. It also involved a rude, not as talented as I needed veterinarian. Then we had a special needs feLIONs emergency. Also involving another inadequate veterinarian. I do NOT want to relive any of what happened by rehashing it here for you. Bottom line is that we now drive two hours one-way for serious veterinary care. We also really like Dr. Ladd and his staff near Baraga. The main thing is that other than a couple more grey hairs for your's truly and a few more hard miles on the ol' ticker, we're all okay. Mostly. Diesel will have a couple of scars and his confidence is rattled. Time will tell if he's going to stay sound. At most, he's on light duty anyway and should be fine. Tiffany Anne is back to her Princess-y self. Fancy was in good hands in Marquette and is fine. Though, I still feel strongly that a veterinarian should be allowed to legally administer a sedative for the animals' owners.

The Husband is home at the cabin all the time now, and again, there is still breathing, screaming, and kicking there too. I'm glad he's home but it's a little more work in one way than bachelorette-ing it. Easier in another way by having help with all the chores. I'm relieved and grateful that he had a 25 year career and nobody crashed and burned and died on his watch. He's got his little jacket that says "Retired" and his "Thanks for 25 years service to the US" plaque.

As I come out of this animal and retirement induced tail spin, I enter a new stage of life. All my life, I've done what I was told to do. I did what other people wanted/demanded that I do. I played the hand I was dealt and flowed with it the best I could. Finally, all of a sudden, it's still and quiet. The demands are gone. There's too many extra pounds, old fractures and bone spurs, I'm exhausted and there's this person that stares back at me from the mirror that is shockingly a lot older than I remember. Then there's all these little boxes of who I wanted to be, what I wanted to do, and labeled "Your LIFE" that I've been stacking one on top of another since my years actually comprised of single digits and shoved in an hasty heap in a dark corner. I look at this heap of dusty hopes and dreams and what I wanted through angry tears cursing those I put before myself for fear of rejection - angriest at myself that I didn't tell them to go F off. People want you to live your life the way they want you to live it because they either didn't get to live it themselves or they're not brave enough to live it themselves. Lesson learned. So, I carefully try to unpack those hopes and dreams so old and brittle they disintegrate at my slightest touch and I feel the disappointment and heartache of what dreams and parts of myself are already gone but I still have yet to accept and release. As I look for what can be resuscitated, I realize the boxes are now empty while I feel the loud, echoing ticking of a clock not that far away anymore. Breathing, screaming, and kicking.... I just begin again. 

Pigments were a flyin'

I'm on a total Painter's high. Probably should clarify that a bit least someone gets the wrong idea. Flying pigments NOT sniffing pigments. It's like a Runner's high. You know, a natural high. Anyway, I'm still too wound up to write so here's the visual scoop.

Art Cart locked and loaded.

5 foot by 12 foot canvas stapled in place. Art Cart in position.

Breaking the ice. No more dreaded blank canvas. Plus I got to try out my new paint marker.

Oops. Pigments miss their approach during landing attempt.
 (Why yes, that's some Air Traffic Controller Speak I picked up from The Husband.)

Hi!

Proper working setup and ....

.... a peek into my journal.

Brushes, paint, water jars, journal, and feLION Studio Assistant. Why yes, there were tiny little black hairs in my watercolors. Why do you ask?