In addition to the sweltering heat, I have had a birthday, attended a music festival, worked 40 hour weeks, got sucked into the Ender's Game series, and had my parents leave town multiple times to head to the beach (upsetting, since I couldn't go too). In spite of these roadblocks and distractions, I have finally gathered enough time and material to write another blogpost.
In addition to working on the electrical wiring (not as easy to electrocute yourself as I had assumed), and installing my new ceiling fan and air conditioner, we cut a hole in the back wall for the new custom door and installed it. I can now see all the bears that want to eat me! The door isn't yet sealed in, but it provides easy access to the back deck. All we have to do is pry off the boards holding it closed any time we want to go out there, and then bang it back closed when we leave. I received a propane grill for my birthday, so I'm ready for my first party! Just have to build the deck rails, install some steps, figure out my fire pit, clear some underbrush, and figure out where to hang a couple of hammocks, and we're in business!
Last weekend, my friend Katie and I, along with Mom and Dad, attended the Tiny House Roadshow at the Birmingham Jefferson Civic Center. We didn't know what to expect beforehand, but we went with the intention of collecting ideas for my house. Katie is a former tiny house occupant herself, and an all-around level-headed and practical kind of gal, so she's worth her weight in gold (probably more, since she's also a tiny person in general.)
The Roadshow was small, as far as convention center shows go (gun, boat, women's, bridal, etc.), but there was still a lot to look at. There were probably 20 tiny houses on wheels that had been rolled into the room, and you could go into all of them and check out what had been done. Some were unfinished, some were finished and for sale as-is, and some were people's actual homes. We saw a hunting cabin with a tree stand built over the front porch and a tree you had to climb to get into the loft. There was what looked like a mobile dorm room, complete with beer taps and a TV on the outside, decorated in a gross Auburn vs. Alabama motif. There was a tiny gypsy caravan (I wanted to ask how many horses I would need to buy in order to pull it, but I didn't think I could keep a straight face). There was one so big, with a gigantic porch, that we wondered how it qualified as tiny. And there were many more normal-looking tiny homes with various smart and innovative storage solutions. By the time we left, we had ideas running out our ears.
In addition to the actual houses, there were a few booths set up selling various products, either closely or loosely (if at all) related to the tiny house movement and sustainability (can someone explain to me why Scentsy was there?). There were two solar panel companies, a company that sold small space heaters of various fuel types, and I was thrilled to see that Nature's Head had sent a representative to talk about their composting toilets! I had been hating the idea of having to install a septic tank, and here appeared my savior in all its polyethylene glory! There was a special price if you bought a composting toilet at the show, and after having done copious research, I knew I couldn't beat that price. So I splurged and bought one!
Now, I can hear some of you starting to heebie and jeebie about the prospect of being forced to use this primitive toilet system if you ever come visit. I assure you, as certainly as I can (having never used one myself as of yet), composting toilets are just as safe as normal toilets, and you won't get poop all over you. I promise. Unless you normally get poop all over yourself, in which case there's not much I can do. Anyways, don't be scared. It will be like an adventure. Like the first time I ever used a squatty potty, in a remote village out in the middle of the Andes mountains of Peru. There was no door. Or toilet paper. And alpaca were looking at me the whole time. This will be easier that that.
Last week, I took my dad to pick up his truck from a man who goes to my parents' church. He works on cars, tractors, lawn mowers, and four-wheelers for a living. He also raises chickens. So I casually mentioned that I was interested in getting some chickens for myself sometime in the future, and the next thing I know, he offers his Silkies to me for free. So, in the span of about three days, I went from talking about the possibility of chickens to being an actual chicken-lady. I am still a little shell-shocked at becoming a mother so quickly.
We spent most of yesterday building a makeshift, yet secure, chicken coop out of an old dog fence and dogloo (a doghouse that looks like an igloo). My brother, Trent, is in town for a few days, so he helped, along with Mom, my sister Jane, and of course, my dear old dad. We used yards and yards of chicken wire to cover the top (to keep out birds of prey) and go around the edges along the ground (to fend off large earth-bound predators), some rebar to keep them from digging under, and a couple of sheets of bathroom linoleum for shade. Guess how much of that was stuff my dad just had lying around? And then we went to get the chickens. Here they are! Aren't they cheerful?
They're called Silkies on account of their soft, silky feathers that you might easily mistake for fur. There are three hens, a rooster, and a chick of as-yet-undetermined sex. Have I named them? Of course I have. The hens are Thelma, Louise, and Bonnie, and the rooster is Clyde. The baby is Dennis. Its little feet are so covered in long feathers that it looks like it's wearing fluffy white clown shoes. The hens lay smallish white eggs, or they're supposed to if they ever recover from being traumatized by the neighbors' dog Sunny D. She's completely obsessed with them and runs frantically around the cage like a maniac with crazed eyes. I'm gonna wind up spending an entire strip of fire crackers on that damn dog. She tried to dig under the cage last night, but Dad filled in the holes with cement and laid another layer of dirt, bricks, and concrete blocks around the edges of the coop. I hope it keeps Sunny and all other manner of critters out. If not, I might have to learn to shoot a gun**.
Tonight, I borrowed my grandfather's large truck and went to Tractor Supply in order to buy a large, galvanized metal horse trough with high sides and a nice, shiny, silver exterior. And while I may someday acquire a horse or three (Horses in the woods! What an idea!) this trough is for me to use as my bathtub. I've seen it done on the show Tiny House Nation, and horse trough tubs are all over Pinterest, so, unfortunately, I'm not being original here. But ever since my legs grew to adultish sizes, it has been a pain to take a bath in a normal-sized bathtub. Either my top half winds up exposed and cold, or my bottom half does, and I have to keep alternating positions to maintain uniform body warmness. It is not relaxing. BUT NOW! Now, I will be able to stay warm from toenail to earlobe. However, since it will take a LOT of water to fill that thing up, baths will be a very occasional treat. But even knowing I could take one if I wanted to feels like a luxury. Here's a sneak peek:
* I hate when people abbreviate words for no reason. Cray is short for crazy. Not sure why I went with the annoying version of the word. But if I go back and change it now, I will have to reorganize all the asterisks in my footnotes. And that's asking a bit much***.
**I hate guns. Completely detest them. Which is weird since I was born into a family- nay- a CULTURE of gun-lovers. Please don't try to argue with me about this, or convince me to like them. You will fail, and you will stress me out. However, in order to compromise, I have agreed to get a tranquilizer gun, and to also practice my archery, sling shot, and knife-throwing skills. I'm pretty sure pumping someone full of drugs and then flinging arrows, stones, and knives into them will keep them from hurting me or my chickens.
We spent most of yesterday building a makeshift, yet secure, chicken coop out of an old dog fence and dogloo (a doghouse that looks like an igloo). My brother, Trent, is in town for a few days, so he helped, along with Mom, my sister Jane, and of course, my dear old dad. We used yards and yards of chicken wire to cover the top (to keep out birds of prey) and go around the edges along the ground (to fend off large earth-bound predators), some rebar to keep them from digging under, and a couple of sheets of bathroom linoleum for shade. Guess how much of that was stuff my dad just had lying around? And then we went to get the chickens. Here they are! Aren't they cheerful?
They're called Silkies on account of their soft, silky feathers that you might easily mistake for fur. There are three hens, a rooster, and a chick of as-yet-undetermined sex. Have I named them? Of course I have. The hens are Thelma, Louise, and Bonnie, and the rooster is Clyde. The baby is Dennis. Its little feet are so covered in long feathers that it looks like it's wearing fluffy white clown shoes. The hens lay smallish white eggs, or they're supposed to if they ever recover from being traumatized by the neighbors' dog Sunny D. She's completely obsessed with them and runs frantically around the cage like a maniac with crazed eyes. I'm gonna wind up spending an entire strip of fire crackers on that damn dog. She tried to dig under the cage last night, but Dad filled in the holes with cement and laid another layer of dirt, bricks, and concrete blocks around the edges of the coop. I hope it keeps Sunny and all other manner of critters out. If not, I might have to learn to shoot a gun**.
Tonight, I borrowed my grandfather's large truck and went to Tractor Supply in order to buy a large, galvanized metal horse trough with high sides and a nice, shiny, silver exterior. And while I may someday acquire a horse or three (Horses in the woods! What an idea!) this trough is for me to use as my bathtub. I've seen it done on the show Tiny House Nation, and horse trough tubs are all over Pinterest, so, unfortunately, I'm not being original here. But ever since my legs grew to adultish sizes, it has been a pain to take a bath in a normal-sized bathtub. Either my top half winds up exposed and cold, or my bottom half does, and I have to keep alternating positions to maintain uniform body warmness. It is not relaxing. BUT NOW! Now, I will be able to stay warm from toenail to earlobe. However, since it will take a LOT of water to fill that thing up, baths will be a very occasional treat. But even knowing I could take one if I wanted to feels like a luxury. Here's a sneak peek:
 |
| I really hope that "CountyLine" sticker comes off easily. Stickers are my nemesis. |
* I hate when people abbreviate words for no reason. Cray is short for crazy. Not sure why I went with the annoying version of the word. But if I go back and change it now, I will have to reorganize all the asterisks in my footnotes. And that's asking a bit much***.
**I hate guns. Completely detest them. Which is weird since I was born into a family- nay- a CULTURE of gun-lovers. Please don't try to argue with me about this, or convince me to like them. You will fail, and you will stress me out. However, in order to compromise, I have agreed to get a tranquilizer gun, and to also practice my archery, sling shot, and knife-throwing skills. I'm pretty sure pumping someone full of drugs and then flinging arrows, stones, and knives into them will keep them from hurting me or my chickens.
***Ok, so there are only three footnotes****, and two of them are pointless. Oh well.
****Now there are four.
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