Category Archives: ponderings

giving a hoot

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I have been having a bad day since yesterday. Do you want the concise version or the long-winded version? Stuff concise. I don’t do concise.

I’ve had my house in Fentonbury for sale since about the beginning of December last year, as you know. In this economic climate I was prepared that it might take a long time to sell it. I love that house and I didn’t really want to sell it. But things change and we decided to sell so we could have a better quality of life in our new place, less stress, less work. I put so much love and care into that house for 8 years that it pained me to have it rented and see the tenants not looking after it the way I would.

I was thrilled when, after only 2 months on the market, the first couple who saw the house fell in love with it. They gushed. It was their dream home. They made a verbal offer, lower than I’d listed it for, and I accepted it. I liked them. I loved that they loved the house. I could see them being happy there.

I trust too much, make friends easily, and I’m very honest. I told them everything about the house, good and bad. I thought they loved the house, liked me and Wayne, and appreciated my honesty. I thought I’d found buyers and had made two new friends into the bargain. That’s what they said anyway. I was really, really happy.

We had to wait 2 weeks for them to become ‘unencumbered’ for contracts to be drawn up. Meanwhile we were in touch via emails – they were so excited. Couldn’t wait to move in. They became free and the soonest I could see the solicitor to draw up contracts was Monday. I went in, drew them up, on the phone with my ‘buyers’ talking terms and clauses. They were supposed to come in that afternoon to sign the contract. I was bending over backwards with the clauses in the contract. I liked them. I wanted to help them buy the house of their dreams.

They decided to postpone coming in to sign till today. There’d been fires in the area and they had wanted to go up and have one more look at the house (totally normal) and bring a builder friend to look it over (also totally normal).

We were exchanging emails like crazy, setting up the inspection. The morning of the day before the contract I got an email at 8.30am confirming the inspection. At 9.45am that same morning I got a call saying they were pulling the plug.

Like: What the F@@@!

What happened in an hour?

I thought the bushfires might have scared them. In the eight years I lived there fire had never come so close to Fentonbury. A fire is a fire, and scary, but it sounded worse than it was. I drove up to look. There were burned hills, sure, but trees were still green, all that had burned for the most part was undergrowth in a wide front… And the worst fire in Tasmanian recent history burnt out Hobart, not the Central Highlands.

Again, they’d had 3 weeks in which to change their mind. They’d had 4 days since the fires to re-think the house. They could have voiced doubts. They could have slowed the process down. I didn’t need to draw up contracts (and pay for them!) till they’d seen the house again, gotten more sure about it, in fact, being their dream home. They were sure and they had sold their house and needed to be out by May 18, so they want to buy my house asap.

Maybe the sale of their house fell through? I dont know, but I bet that if that was the case it would have been the first thing they’d tell us. Maybe they found somewhere better? Fine. I’d understand that totally.

What I dont understand is a couple who were so thrilled, so certain this was their forever home, that we made such effort to help make their dream come true, suddenly bailing on me like that.

I feel betrayed.

Upset. Depressed.

My fault. I take things too much to heart. I can’t just do business. I have to go feel like I’ve made new friends. I should be more cold and matter of fact – sell a puppy and not make the new owners part of my circle of friends. Sell a house and not give a hoot about the people who buy it.

You live and learn I guess.

Back to the drawing board. The house is still for sale. Its still rented. Nothing changes in our lives, we continue as we were, working the same hours and doing the same stuff. Only a little wiser and maybe a little less trusting.

z

PS. I have a great house for sale. Please spread the word!

musings of a wandering mind

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The other day while pooper scooping in the yard (something I dont do nearly as regularly as I should given we have 4 dogs who can poop BIG) I found myself thinking about the joys and responsibilities of owning dogs rather than having children.

For one thing, as I scooped the poop I couldn’t help but notice that I keep an eye on the dogs’ health / bowel movements by doing so. “Ooh, thats a nice firm one”… “Hmmm… a bit soft and dark, wonder who’s got an upset tummy” … “Ah, nice. White and crumbly. Just the way I remember dog poop from my childhood” etc.

I belong to a poodle discussion group (one of many I’ve been on through the years) and on there discussions about such things as dog stool consistency, shape and colour is a regular occurence. Disgusting, I know. But no more disgusting than, I’m sure, a mommy group discussing diaper contents. Which I’m sure they do.

See, owning a dog isn’t that different from having children. Dog mothers and baby mothers talk about the same things – poop, eating habits, cute things their baby (furry or otherwise) does. They brag, they carry photos to show off to everyone they meet. They talk about their babies incessantly.

See? No difference.

The difference is that eventually the child grows up, the amount of care needed doesn’t so much reduce, it changes. You may no longer need to feed and change diapers but you worry about them learning to drive, date, smoking, drugs, etc.

I dont have children, thus I’m an expert at how to raise them. 🙂

With dogs, they never grow up to independence. With them you have to pooper scoop for the entire length of their life. You’re responsible for feeding them, caring for them if they’re sick, ensuring they eat well and exercise etc. In other words, dog owners are stuck in that ‘young child’ phase for the 10+ years of an average dog lifespan.

At least with dogs you dont have to worry about them hating you when they’re teenagers, crashing the car or taking drugs. And you dont have to lose your figure to acquire them!

The biggest differences, however, surround the fact that as dog owners we can control our babies’ sex lives. We can legally, and without repercussions, get them neutered. If we breed them we get to pick their mate. On the other hand, I have never, so far in my life, heard of a mother having to pay a stud fee to some young buck’s parents in order to impregnate her daughter.

Or, which is way worse, having to ‘take matters into your own hands’ (literally) and act as stud master to your inexperienced son first time he mates, to help him find ‘it’.

Ewww.

I guess there are benefits to both types of children… I could do without the pooperscooping though. I’m  tempted to train them all to squat on the toilet…

Anyway, enough on that slightly disturbing topic. On to more fun stuff.

A few months ago I found this image in an old magazine. I did what any self respecting DIY-er would do. I ripped it out and put it in a folder of things I would love to try when I found the time.

I kept thinking I needed to find the right box. I started looking. And guess what? We had one in the casita! It was just the right size but it was filthy. It was full of straw and I think a cat had been using it as a bed. It was a home made crate, made with chipboard and with an old real estate sign from Canberra. Who knows how that got here!

First I cleaned it out. Scraped it out, disinfected it. Then I sanded down the edges where it was rough and uneven (someone had been gnawing on it) and I painted it. I dont have any ‘in progress’ photos as I didn’t think of it. I mixed up a colour using white house paint and acrylic paints. I mixed some yellow ochre into the white as I wanted it to be more cream than white, whiter than the cream on the sign, but closer to it than white would be. When the cream paint dried I rubbed in some burnt umber around the edges so it soaked into the dints and scratches.

I didnt have the same kind of magazine/newspaper to line the inside with, but I had tons of old poodle magazines dating back to the late 70s. So I used them. I used PVA glue to stick them down and painted them over with more PVA once they were dry to seal them. The old fashioned show poodle haircuts added the poodle touch and a bit of age to the box. As if it didnt look old enough as it was.

Then I bought some wheels off Ebay and screwed them onto the bottom. And voila! Coffee table/side table/rolling library!

I have a real thing for boxes. This is an old box I found at a tip shop somewhere which was missing one bottom slat. I asked Wayne to add another slat to it for me and he made me a lid for it too! He used weathered timber we had planned to burn when cleaning up around here, but wont ever burn since we use it for projects all the time. He hinged the lid with a couple of leather straps and made a wire latch for it too. I now keep some tools in it to keep them handy in the kitchen.

And then there’s the brilliant red box. This was another tip shop find. It was already red when I found it but missing a latch and handle. I dont have any before photos. I did take some but I cant find them.

Does anyone remember the box I made for Scooter’s ashes? I wanted something special for his ashes so I went and bought one of those little pine craft boxes from the hardware store. I primed it then gave it two coats of red. The red I bought was true red which was way too bright so I added black till I got the right colour.

Once the paint was dry I painted it with crackle medium, let that dry and painted the final red coat. Since I had red on red, you couldnt really see the cracks but I had a plan! Instead of letting an under layer of paint show through the cracks, I rubbed burnt umber into them. (Does that sound familiar? I do that a lot). I rubbed and then had to damped the cloth and remove the excess, cause trust me, there was a lot of it. It gave the box an old kind of grimy appearance. I loved it. It now sits in the bedroom on the dresser next to my old window/mirror.

Now back to the other red box. I loved the finish on the Scooter box so much that I wanted to do it again. Also, I spent $550 on an antique chinese dresser when we first moved here which is a similar deep dark red colour with aged cracks and I wanted to kind of match that.

Since the red box was already red I didnt need to undercoat or do much to it. I wanted the dints and scratches so I didnt sand either. I just painted it with the same red I’d used on Scooter’s box, mixing up a new batch so its a bit brighter. When the reds were dry I skipped the crackle stage and went straight to the burnt umber rubbing stage.

I decided not to put a closing latch on it its very heavy and there’s no way you’d lift it. I bought some small red wheels on Ebay, I think they’re a bit too small and too red but they seemed like a good idea at the time.

I asked Wayne to make a handle for it out of an old spoon and this is what he made. Excellent isnt i?

I am thinking rope handles on either side for pulling would be a nice addition…

I keep electrical bits in it, you know, all the extension cords, double adapters, timer switches etc that you always have lying around. I’ve used it as a temporary bedside table, but basically it just looks good with the bonus of being handy storage for those odds and ends I dont have a drawer for and dont want to go running to shed everytime I need something.

I’m currently working on a few other projects but really, its been so hot here that I’m too drained to do much at all other than lie on the couch and groan. They predicted 34 degrees C yesterday but it got up to 39-40C. Thats 104F! Same today. The house is a mess screaming out for a tidy. The To Do list sits here glaring at me accusingly and I sit and blog, thumbing my nose at the dirty dishes and washing to be sorted.

There’s a haze of smoke outside cause the wind and heat yesterday caused a few bushfires further up the valley. The plants are suffering and the poor roosters ran out of water halfway through the day. Lucky I checked and topped it up. I spent 1.5 hrs watering the garden and vegie patch yesterday evening.

I kept the dogs inside most of the day to keep them out of the heat. I did have 3 dogs to groom including 2 standard poodles (one being Little Zefi Munchkin from Pagan’s second litter). That coupled with the heat ensured I did nothing yesterday afternoon. I didnt even log on and thats saying something! I have an obessive attachment to my computer under normal circumstances.

I better go hang to washing out to dry (and get smoked) before it gets any hotter.

z

those voices…

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Photo: Wayne’s cartoon for a friend’s 40th birthday yesterday.

We were invited to Sharon’s 40th birthday yesterday and Wayne did one of his wonderful cartoons for her. I matted and framed it. The joke is that her husband is making chairs out of horse shoes and it takes 69 shoes  to make one chair. Wayne’s work is great isn’t it?

It was a pretty good night. They had a band and the music was good. I had a few dances with Leslie, a friend and neighbour from Fentonbury. She loves dancing with me cause I can lead swing and she loves learning new steps. Sometimes I really miss my old dancing days… I used to love dancing so much that when I’d get to a venue and the band was playing I’d have to run in so as not to miss one precious moment of dancing. I wish one of my old dance partners would come visit and I could show people how its really done! sigh…

Meanwhile, its Sunday night and what am I doing? I’m sitting in front of the computer. I just cant help myself. I’ve become addicted to Pinterest. I thought it was bad enough when I added Facebook and blogging to my computer time, but now I’ve found Pinterest… Thank you very much Diane! I thought you were my friend!

My eyes are sore. My butt is chair shaped. And still, I cant tear myself away!

Not only that, I cant wait to try the one million, fourty three thousand and fifteen projects, decorating ideas and clever things I see there. I just need a bigger house and a whole lot more time!

I want to redo my kitchen, re-paint the house, landscape the yard, create secret garden spots, cut wine bottles in half, learn to crochet, felt a mouse, make chandeliers out of jars and old fencing wire, build a couch out of used pallets, and thats just the start of it!

I always knew there wasn’t enough time in my day, but now its worse!

I can’t stop my brain. I lie in bed at night and my brain is buzzing and ticking. Last night I couldn’t sleep cause of the voices inside my head, saying things like “I wonder if the cupboard in the bedroom will fit beside the fridge if I move the coats to the mud room once its finished and put the metal suitcase underneath it to hold shoes… and what if I moved the bookcase from one side of the living room to the other or will it be too wide? must measure it… and I still have that felt, I need to make mug warmers out of it, not to mention the rug I want to make out of old tshirts… must remember to go buy more tshirts…”

Its a curse I tell you!

For a minute today I thought I’d lost my notebook – the one I keep ideas in as well as my To Do lists. The thought of having to start a new list of To Do lists boggled my mind. Thankfully I found it. It was under the pile of ‘stuff to file’ on my desk.

But I’ve had a productive day. I’ve managed to cross quite a few things off my To Do lists today.

I say lists, plural, because I have more than one list. I found that having one list was just too hard. The list got too long and unmanageable. I’d look at it and my mind would go blank.

By breaking the list up into segments I’m able to ‘see’ more clearly what needs to be done. I have the lists sorted by area of the house or type of activity. ‘Kitchen’ ‘Deck’ ‘Sewing’ etc.

Today I tackled the sewing. Finally. The funny thing is that once I actually got started it didn’t take that long at all.

A lady who’s dogs I groom gave me some alpaca fleece when she had her boys shorn. It was sitting in bags in my workshop for ages. She said that she makes dog beds out of it every year for her dogs and they love it, so I decided I’d do the same.

Montana and Romeo (the poodles) sleep in the living room on the couch or armchairs as they don’t shed. Mischa and Barney have their own beds and, thanks to Barney, most of their bedding is in tatters.

Long story: when we first moved here Mischa and Barney were outside dogs. They had beds in the garage, then on the deck. When Wayne went to Adelaide on holiday I made a bed for them in the entrace and they’ve been sleeping in the house since. In fact we now have to pry Barney out of bed in the morning or to go out and pee at night.

I found a great, big old box at the tip shop. It was like a large drawer, about 3ft wide, 2ft deep and 7in high. It was painted a mauvey colour and was a bit rough. I sanded it back enough to remove most of the old paint but not totally, cleaned it up, then painted it a pale green. In order to give it a more interesting, aged, appearance, I wiped some of the paint off to expose some of the grain, giving it a limed appearance. I then gave it a couple of coats of estapol to seal it and make it easy to wipe clean.

Once it was finished I put it in the entrance, put in some dog beds and Mischa and Barney curled up together at night. Lately however Barney has claimed it as his bed and Mischa has been sleeping on a thin pad in the hallway. She really needed the new dog bed.

I found some old curtains I’d taken down from the dog grooming room in the casita. They’re lined fabric in orange. Tasteful. I cut off the tape, sewed them together, stuffed them with alpaca fleece (after picking the odd stick out of it) and voila: dog beds. Oh, I also put another cover on the outside. I stitched that closed as they both have a bad habit of taking covers off things. This way I can remove and change covers when they get dirty without then ruining the actual bed.

This is Barney’s bed.

 
And here is Mischa on her new bed. I am experimenting with a hessian bag I got from the tip shop. She seems to like it and I love the look of it.

It goes with my postal bag come laundry basket! This post bag was going to be thrown out so we gave it a home. Took me a while to figure out what I wanted to do with it but I love it. I put 2 hooks in the bathroom wall and hang it there. When its full I sling it over my shoulder and take it down to the washing machine. (Our bathroom is Ugly with a capital U. One day…)

The sewing extravaganza didn’t end there. Last week I went into an outlet store having a huge sale. Jeans for $10. You just cant go wrong at that price. I bought 3 pairs, one short and 2 long. Or they’re meant to be long. They’re just not quite long enough for me. You know what I mean… I’d have to wear them like those homeboys you see getting around with the top of their shorts (or more) showing and the crotch of their pants somewhere down between their knees. (What is it with that anyway?)

I had some samples of upholstery fabric which I was holding onto to do something with one day. That day came today. I cut it up, stitched a cuff and sewed it onto the bottom of one of the new pairs of jeans. Now I’m looking for another interesting fabric to do the other pair… paisley would be nice. I’ll be wearing this pair to work on Tuesday. I’ll let you know how it goes. 🙂

So I got a few things done today. But you see what I mean about crossing one thing off the list and adding another five? The dog beds were on the list. The jean cuffs were a new addition.

We took Ben up to Ashley to have him saddle broken. Or ‘backed’. He’s had a saddle and bridle on him and we’ve done plenty of work with him. Neither of us has had the guts to get on him. When he’s ready I’ll be going down for a few lessons on his back before bringing him home. Wally and Dancer have been unsettled over his absence.

I also rearranged the grooming room and cleaned it. Dog hair gets everywhere! I removed the lino from the toilet floor to allow the floor underneath to dry (if its not already beyond repair). We are now closing the door to the toilet but its almost impossible to get in cause Wayne has hung a tarp over it to keep rain out. And its been raining today. I did some washing and hung it out just in time for it to get wet. Eh. We have good clean rain in Tasmania.

All in all, its been a good day. I feel good. Hopefully the voices will be quiet tonight.

z

Stalag 13 and other undertakings

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Once again I’ve been slack in keeping a blog. I used to blog religiously. Then again, I was on holidays back then and everytime something happened, one of my cousins said something funny or I remembered a story from the past, I’d jump on my little netbook and pour my guts out.

But life has changed for me in the last year. Wayne and I got together in a search to buy a property together, we moved in, bought a horse, then another one. Inherited ducks and chooks. Buried ducks and chooks. Lost a dog. Bought new chooks. Learned how to do decking. Found out just how hard it is to maintain pasture where prickles love to grow.

It never ends. Life has become one gigantic ‘To Do’ list for us.

Over the last few weeks a ton of things have happened. Not all of them good. One of the good ones is that we’ve decided to relocate the ‘boys’, aka Boris as they’re collectively known, (the light sussex roosters) into more natural, roomier, accommodation. Wayne has been busy building Stalag 13 for them between the casita and the vegie patch. He’s been re-using and recycling materials on hand to create fences (see the old sheep grid from the casita, the trellis from the old deck…). Its almost finished now. Some wire to line the fences and the boys can move in. I’m guessing they’ll love having a bit more room than a dog run offers and I think they’ll love having dirt and grass under their feet.

For our part, we’ll love not having roosters crowing right outside the bedroom at 4am.

Did I ever mention that? When the roosters were first moved into their current digs, it was in response to the neighbour who said he never minded the boys visiting his girls, but when they started helping themselves to his vegetable garden he had enough of being Mr Nice Guy. If we didn’t put a stop to it, he would. Thus the boys were nabbed and bundled into the dog run. Which has started to smell. Ugh.

So, they first moved in there (always as a temporary measure) it was cause we couldn’t bring ourselves to eat them, much less let anyone else eat them. Being confined to a dog run seemed much preferable to being Sunday roast. Not sure they grasped the concept though, as the first night they started crowing every half hour from about 4am onwards. I’d just be falling asleep again when another rooster would start crowing.

I was about to go out there and strangle them with my own two hands by 6am.

However, its amazing what the human mind/ear can get used to. I never hear them any more.

Still, it’ll be nice to give them a bit more space. And the shadecloth lined dog run will most likely be converted to a greenhouse if Wayne has anything to say about it. I’m not too sure. We shall see.

As I mentioned, there were other adventures. A couple of weeks ago, when the deck was finished in fact, we had a real doozie of an adventure. Well… Wayne did.

He and Chris had been relaxing and drinking (it was a HOT day). Wayne had found and pulled out his hammock. It was great. What a way to relax! I had a go on it for a while then went off to do something in the paddock with the horses. Chris went and lay in the hammock and RIIIIIP. That was the end of the hammock.

Wayne, being a useful kind of guy, went and got out his eyelet kit to put eyelets into the hammock, strengthening it by doubling it over and all that. He’s good with things like that. Then he went and hooked it onto the frame… and RIIIIIIP!

Another man on his ass!

That hammock is history. (Its also good to know it could hold MY weight! LOL)

But the fun and games didn’t end there. Wayne went into the paddock to check the sprinkler and tripped over right next to Wally who probably thought another of the horses was muscling in on ‘his dad’. Result: Wayne got a wallop of a kick in his arm. It swelled up like a melon and started turning colours.

Being a man, Wayne refused to see a doctor despite having me, Merrill and Chris on his case. Mind you, there had been a fair amount of drinking involved. Remember the photo of Barney with the beer bottles? Do you seriously think he drank them all?

Anyway, suffice it to say, Wayne is still sporting a very impressive hoofprint on his upper arm. He has been to see the doctor and will have a follow up appointment soon. Just in case. I won that round. I have no illusions however. If he wasn’t really sore, he wouldn’t have gone!

With the deck finished, we now have to enclose the ‘mud room’ – ie the original old small deck. This will do two things. It’ll bring the toilet INTO the house (much more fun in winter!) and it’ll give us more room for Wayne’s huge collection of coats, jackets, hats and boots.

However, till we get our new guttering (waiting on quotes) and flashing, there’s no point in enclosing the room. Naturally, after weeks of sweltering temperatures, this is when the weather decided to change. Cold, windy and wet. Naturally.

The other day the wind and rain was so bad we needed an umbrella just to get into the toilet. And a boat once we got in there. We had niagara falls at the toilet door and rapids around the toilet bowl.

We dried it out, put an extra bit of corregated iron to catch water coming in where the flashing should go, hung a tarp on one side to protect us from rain blown in sideways and put plastic on the floor with some blocks under one end to create a kind of ‘ramp’ effect so that water going in slides back out.

It should work. In theory anyway. The downside of course is that the ramp interferes with the normal function of the door… therefore we have a toilet with a view. When we sit there we can see over the valley. Lucky none of our neighbours are close enough to get a view of us.

I’m so over this. I want a proper roof over the future mud room and a toilet with a closing door.*

*This is not my first toilet without a door. In my house in Melbourne, my then partner Simon decided to rennovate the bathroom. He ripped out walls, made the tiny bathroom bigger, moved the toilet from the behind the laundry into the new improved bathroom… but failed to put a door on it for about a year. Which was unfortunate cause the new bathroom/toilet was directly off the living room. I lived in a house I couldn’t invite friends to cause for one year I had a sheet hanging over the bathroom door.
When I told Simon it was over, I was over him, pack up and leave, he made a last ditch effort to win me back. I came home from work one day to find he’d cleaned the house (as much as you can when you have exposed beams where walls used to be, tiles sitting over holes in the floor where (again) walls used to be), moved furniture to create a proper dining room, had take away on the table and a lit candle… and TA DA! a door on the bathroom!
I was bowled over.
But perhaps its a failing on my part that at that point in time the first thing that came to my mind to say was “That wasn’t too hard, was it?”

Not, “Oh honey, all is forgiven”. Nope. Not me. Is there something wrong with me as a human being? Am I missing some integral part which makes me better at relationships?

Meanwhile, it seems my blog is more than simply a place to share events and vent about things. I am now also going to share stuff I do and make. I’ve found over the last couple of years, that I love making stuff. I love learning new things and trying new things. My only regret is not having enough time to do it all!

I’ve always drawn and done some crafty stuff, but lately I have become obsessed. So this is where you close the window if you’re not interested in hearing about my latest accomplishments cause I’m about to share!

I’ve discovered http://www.pinterest.com and I love it. I spend an unhealthy amount of time on there just browsing and getting ideas for things I want to do/make/try. I love it.

One of the things I found was that if you cut old T-shirts into strips you can make them curl into a kind of string. A couple of weeks ago at work I took one of my clients (a lady I work one on one with once a week) to an op shop and bought some cheap T-shirts. I cut them up using one of the pinterest ideas to make a couple of vests for her. I decorated one of them with T-shirt flowers as well (another pinterest idea). If I can I’ll take photos to share when I see her next.

I had an extra couple of T-shirts… so I decided to try making a headband for myself. I took the brown singlet I’d bought and cut off the bottom hem, split it up one side seam and proceeded to cut it into strips.

I discovered that there are some T-shirts that wont curl. This was one of them. Its more a knit than a Tshirt. Oops.

I then cut up a few strands of purple T-shirt, which DID curl. I tied up the ends of the strips at the size I wanted for my head. I wrapped and stitched the knots into a neater looking sausage shape, and voila. Headband!


Other things I’ve made recently after being inspired to use my downtime to create all kinds of interesting useful things, is a diary cover.

Basically, I couldn’t find a diary I liked more than my filofax, but I wanted to try a day to a page so I thought I’d get a cheap diary and make a cover for it to hold a pen. This is what I came up with. I made the cover using felt and covering the diary pretty much as I used to cover schoolbooks when I was in grade school, only I sewed rather than taped. I decorated it by stitching on the monster with its pen holding loop/hand. I used a hairband as the elasticated closer.

I kind of stuffed up so I had to put the button on the back. So I added another smaller monster there. 🙂 Its a bit wonky having to close the diary at the back, but it works!

Another thing I made was a spot to put the mobile phones while they’re charging. Up till now they’ve sat on top of the two old tins I have decorating my counter top. What I did was get some cardboard (every self respecting crafter has bits of that lying around). I cut it to the shape I wanted, made a pocket using glue and bits of cardboard to give it the depth I wanted. I reinforced the middle with an extra sliver of cardboard, creating two separate pockets for our two phones.

First I covered it in some craft paper I had lying around but I hated it. So I recovered it using some scraps of fabric. Then I loved it.

The only problem with this amazingly handy little contraption is that now I forget to take my phone to work cause its ‘in its place’ rather than on the counter!

Lastly (for this blog anyway, you’re never going to safe again) is a gift box I gave Wayne for his birthday last month. I’d seen something which gave me the idea in a book. It was a tiny memory box thing. What I created for Wayne was a ‘home box’ – a box with special memories and bits of home so that he can always have a bit of home with him wherever he goes.

First I bought a small craft box and created the message ‘home is where the heart is’ using the age-old blackmail letter technique. I then filled it with all kinds of goodies. Three horse hair locks from each of the horses. Tiny photos of me and the dogs. A feather from Boris (and by extension, all the chickens). The wire ‘W’ I’d made as a gift tag for his first Christmas present at the farm. Tiny bags with dirt from our land. A knot of leather. Some rusty nails from the old shed/now stable. All little things which are part of this place, or symbolize home. It lives on his bedside table. 🙂

Well, enough for today. I’ve been on here long enough!

z

Missing in action

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Yes, its been a while. Things have been rather hectic at Wind Dancer Farm. Christmas was a time of friends, family, over-eating, fun, frivolity and WORK. I haven’t written much (at all) in a while cause the days are so lovely and long, yet somehow not long enough!

We’ve been getting up later than normal (which is 6am for me, earlier for Wayne) and going to bed later and later. The days are sometimes perfect, sometimes too hot. The late afternoons are lovely and so long that instead of winding down, we gear up and do more. Its easier to get going once the heat of the day subsides.

Dinners have sneaked down to 8pm, watering the garden often after dinner, then some relaxing and catching up on movies late into the night. I’ve been working on a new photobook for our first year on the farm, it’ll be our anniversary gift, so I have to have that finished in the next two weeks so I can get it printed in time. I’m about halfway there. Its actually great to look back and see how things have changed in just one year.

The paddocks are really dry looking now so Wayne has figured out the sprinkler system and has been watering areas to keep the grass growing for the horses. We had a call from the original owners of the place (they want a dog groomed!) and they came over to visit and see the changes we’re making. They’re really nice people and I look forward to getting to know them. Their daughter rides in a local riding club so I’m interested in finding out more about that. Anyway, they showed Wayne where pipes were (to hopefully avoid further “digging = holes in pipes” episodes) and how the irrigation system works.

Man… I must learn all this too!

Meanwhile Chris has been coming and staying for a week or two at a time and the ‘boys’ have been building our new deck while I’ve been spoiling Chris by cooking food and making desserts he loves. Its really an extension of the old deck (kind of joining the two smaller ones we had) and giving the old deck a new railing to match the new one and prettify it. We’re also enclosing the original old front deck to make a mud room and bring the toilet inside. Which is a nice thing to have really. Don’t get me wrong… I like getting fresh cold air when I go to the toilet late at night or early in the morning in winter, but an indoor toilet is considered to be quite the thing these days.

We love our new improved deck! Its made the ugly little house look a million times better even though its still not painted. I plan to stain the deck grey and will repaint the house a warm grey colour called White Pepper. The trims will all be Antique White USA. So far all I’ve done is undercoat the window frames.

Interesting story which proves that being brave/brash/brazen pays off. I’d been driving around dangerously for a long time, looking at houses as I drove to find the colour I wanted to paint our house. There’s this gorgeous place near where I work which is a colour I adore. Of course, the house is also beautiful, something ours is definitely not. So, one day after work I put a note in their letterbox asking what the colours were. They send me an email with the names, I got sample pots and I’m ready to go!

So with the deck finsihed its a matter of waiting for the timber to dry out and I can get to painting. This the house before, with the awful blue window trims, yellow walls, sink and other paraphenalia:

And this is after with the extended deck (or as its become known around here, ‘Wayne’s Big Deck’):

So, as you can see, we haven’t been slacking off around here. The guys have been flat out building and resting and going through an insane amount of beer in the good ol’ aussie way. And I’ve been working on all kinds of odds and ends and grooming dogs.

I’ve made a sign for down near our front gate so grooming customers know they have the right house. I used a poodle cut out a friend gave me as a gift a few years ago. It seemed appropriate. Looks kinda funny in the australian bush setting…

I made a lead hanger for my grooming customers as I’m always forgetting which lead goes with which dog. I took 2 offcuts of decking from the growing pile on our front lawn, and joined them together to make an L shape so I would have a small shelf. I then painted them using sample pots I had on hand – a dark grey and a pale green. Very retro colours.

I think got out my collection of old knobs which I’ve been picking up at tip shops* or anywhere. These aren’t antique knobs, just mismatched knobs. I used glue to stick them onto the timber as most of them were broken (hence why they were at the tip shop). I had to drill holes into the timber for some of them to sit in properly.

Once dry I screwed the shelf onto the wall between the hydrobath room and the grooming room, clearly visible and in easy reach.

I then found an old piece of coreflute sign which I’d kept for some obscure yet very handy reason. In the spirit of recycling materials on hand I undercoated it with prepcoat and then painted it with chalkboard paint… which turns out to be oil based. Sheesh. I wish I’d read the tin before I bought it. Another brush bites the dust.

However, the result is one I’m really happy with. A handy spot for customer dog leads, a place to put business cards so customers see them, and a little poodle figurine which I rescued from the throw out pile at one tip shop. I like it.

*Tip shops are recycle/reclaim centres where things other people throw away are sold. One person’s junk is another’s treasure.

z

Eat and be merry

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Things really have been busy around here lately. We are now 2 weeks down of our 3 week holiday and I’m trying hard not to think too much about work looming closer by the day. That’ll ruin your holiday every time.

For the last 2 weeks we’ve pretty much had a full house. Wayne’s friend Chris has been up here helping with the stable and with the deck rennovation, and his daughter Caitlin is over visiting. The guys have been working their butts off – I can hear Wayne swearing all over the place when things don’t go the way he wants them to. Chris says Wayne’s nickname should be Breaky or Smashy cause those seem to be his strengths.

Still, things are getting done. Today I got to use the nail gun to put down some decking. My first time with a nail gun (and this is nail gun 3.0*. I’m already looking for other things to nail down… Hm… If it moves and it shouldn’t, nail it there. One of these days Wayne will come home and find I put his boots ‘in their place’ and nailed them there.

The saga of the nail gun

Wayne bought me a nail gun pack for my birthday. Basically, brad nailers of different sizes. All very well till we tried to buy nails for them. Apparently Bunnings sells these home quality nail guns but you can’t get nails for them to do real jobs. So I took it back and exchanged it for another nail gun, a coil gun this time – not a pack and for more money, and once again… guess what? Bunnings doesn’t sell nails for it! So I drove around town looking for a specialist store who would sell the nails I needed. Found them. Great! Get home and guess what? The nail gun will take the nails but they don’t work! So this morning I chose to withdraw from the adventure. I sent the guys into town on the ‘great nail gun’ search. They returned the gun to Bunnings (again) and went to Mitre 10 where they found a nail gun which fit the nails AND (would you believe it?) actually nailed them!

I’ve been cooking up a storm too. For the first time in my life I understand how people gain weight on holidays! Normally I’m too busy to eat too much, but with guests food is a bit more important. We’ve had scones with cream and jam. Cheesecake. Chocolate cake. Thai green curry. Fettucine with mushroom cream sauce. Lasagne.Pasta Amatriciana. Home made pizza. Heaps of salads. Home made pickled beetroot from our garden.

Which brings me back to the garden. Its going well. Too well! Even the eggplants seem to have bounced back from being chewed on by bugs. The lettuces are ready now and I’ve discovered something about myself: I prefer my vegies clean and bug free, preferably wrapped in plastic.

I’m also learning lessons about how far apart to plant some things, never to plant anything close to the brocoli or it will be completely overwhelmed by its huge leaves, and not to plant things I don’t know how to cook cause they just grow and grow and I have to kill them.

We’ve been out and about a few times too. Took Caitlin to Salamanca Market and to see the yachts from the Sydney to Hobart race.

And the gorgeous sculptures at Constitution Dock.

I took her to visit Cascade and to the tip shops cause I thought she needed to be exposed to the bountiful possibilities of tip shopping.

I introduced her to Banjo’s house cakes (a Tasmanian institution) and gave her dog grooming lessons.

(Tip shops are recycling centres for things people throw away.)

I’m exhausted!

z

Why I need to start drinking

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Today is a day I’ll never get back. It started innocently enough. Caitlin and I went to the Cadbury factory in Claremont to see the end of the marathon and to visit the chocolate shop. A real non-event. Since they stopped doing factory tours (I mean, who doesn’t want to see huge vats of liquid chocolate?) there seems no point in visiting Cadbury’s. We wandered in, looked around and left. We then visited the Glenorchy Sunday Market at the showgrounds… just another market, therefore nothing special. 
So we then decided we’d visit MONA, the Tasmanian Museum of Old and New Art.
Hmph. Maybe MOANa is a better name.
Its a very interesting looking building on the bank of the Derwent River just inside the Moorilla Estate Vineyards. The vineyards are gorgeous, as are the surrounds, the buildings and the views.
There was a sewery smell on the air which seemed an omen of what was to come, cause let me tell you, it was crap. Literally. One of the exhibits was a panel of monitors showing various videos on loop. One was a worm’s eye view of someone taking a big dump.
Nice.
It was one of the first things we saw when we entered the catacombs of the building (“Go straight to the bottom floor and work your way up” we were told by the helpful staff who gave us an ipad to guide us through the museum.
I know why they want you to start at the bottom. So you can’t just simply walk out! I thought I’d never find my way out of there at one stage.
The other art and installations included such intriguing items as:
Pig skins with tattoos on them, accompanied by video of the tattooed pigs in their pens while still alive.
A sculpture of a man, hung upside down with what looked like his skin melting/peeling off.
An installation of a group of male mannequins who’d been castrated, hung upside down and dismembered.
Videos of all sorts of things which defy description.
A sculpture of a dead horse, hung from a rope around its middle.
 
My personal favourite – letterhead paper with what looked like, at first glance, kisses in lipstick, but upon closer inspection proved to be the puckered lips of an entirely different part of the human anatomy. Tasteful.
An entire room of x-rays of rats, including one crucified rat with onlookers.
Hundreds of plaster casts of womens’ genitalia. That one really gets me. Did this guy (woman?) have sex with all these women or did he actually just approach them and say ‘Hey, I’m an artist and I’d really like to take a plaster cast of your pussy’.
Seriously. This is art? There were some beautiful items in amongst all the disgusting, disturbing, gratuitously shocking crap, but for the most part it was unadulterated crap.
No, really Zefi, tell us how you really feel. Don’t hold back now!
I have a real problem with “Its art cause I call myself an artist and I say its art”….
If I’m offending people (like the artists, after all, they have feelings too), then so be it., though I doubt it. I’m sure this is the reaction they want. I just cannot understand how videos of someone stabbing himself so his guts fall out, or someone urinating and defecating can be art. 
Leonardo is turning over in his grave as we speak!
This is why I have a real problem with being an ARTIST, why I will now go ahead and believe the idiot art lecturer that told me, at art school, that I would never amount to anything cause I had no ‘theory’ (ie bullshit) behind my work*. If that’s so, fine. I’d rather be someone who can produce beautiful pieces of work than someone who smears excrement on photos of vaginas and amputated penises then spews forth theories of my work and what it all means.
*The particular lecturer raved on and on about the work of a fellow student who’s bland, murky, tonal abstracts “showed the futility of living in an urban landscape and people’s struggle to come to terms with their life in the inner city, blah blah”. Then turned to me and asked what my work was about. I said “This is a leather jacket, this is noodles, this is licorice and this is a fish”. I could have given him a lot of crap about focusing in on small objects and blowing things up to the point where the object almost unrecognisable – the images were about the light and dark, shapes, curves, more like landscapes than a jacket, noodles, licorce or fish. But I didn’t. My work is what it is. Like it or lump it. I shouldn’t have to explain or justify my work. If that makes me less of an artist than the guy who put lipstick on his asshole and pressed it to letterhead, then GREAT.
z
xxxx
 


A work in progress

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Wayne’s been working flat out on the stable for the last few days. I think I’ll take you for a small stroll through the history of the stable thus far.

This is what it looked like when we first saw the farm. It was an old shed, housing a tractor and many bits and pieces of rusty engine parts, broken plowing implements, trucks, boat bits, drums of oil and a truck parked next to it. The roof was being held in place by spit and a collection of old tractor wheel hubs and besser blocks.

Before we moved in the previous owner took away everything he wanted to keep. Most of the truck parts, boats and tractors went. All that was left was a falling down shed and a whole lot of rubbish. Really. A ton of rubbish that we are still coming to terms with.
So Wayne started looking at it, considering how to go about converting it into a stable for 2 horses. We only had Wally at the time but were planning to get a horse for me. He found that the roof needed replacing entirely, that the low ceiling on one end of the shed was too low for horses, and that one post wasn’t holding up the wall let alone the roof. It wasn’t even in the ground.
 
Slowly, over the next few months, Wayne started to rip the old shed apart. He dug holes and put in posts to hold up a new roof for the ‘extension’… only to find the irrigation pipes. Twice. Seems like every single hole that Wayne dug for a few weeks had a pipe going through it. I think we spent more on mending pipes than on anything else during that period.
One weekend our friend Chris came up and together the guys put the first half of the roof on. By then we’d already had Ben join our family so the two bays were perfect for the two boys. Of course, now we also have Dancer which means that the work is far from finished. We need another bay, so Wayne is considering a ‘lean-to’ bay added to the side of the current structure.
I suggest he builds another, similar structure at a right angle to the one we have now – another 2 bays…. Cause you never know when you may need another stable… 🙂
 
 
 

 z


Boots and all

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Its been a busy few days. Firstly there was the crazy build-up to Christmas, then somehow instead of collapsing in a heap, we found ourselves doing MORE.
Christmas was fantastic. We had 3 friends come up from Cygnet to stay, and another two good friends who came up for the day with their gorgeous dog, Harvey. Montana and Harvey have the kind of relationship where there’s nothing they wouldn’t do for each other – so they spend their time together doing nothing for each other.
First time they met was at a park near my house in Fentonbury. I thought it was wiser to introduce them on neutral turf given he was visiting us for the first time. They met, sniffed and basically ignored eachother in perfect harmony. Then we all drove to my place and soon as we arrived Montana turned into Ms Protector. She rushed up to Harvey as he bounced out of his car. Harvey turned on her and gave her as good as he got. Montana turned around and jumped back into our car and stayed there till ‘that nasty Harvey character’ had gone home. Ever since then, every time Harvey comes over I just open the back of the car and Montana spends his visit in there.
That’s where Montana spent Christmas day.
She kept an eye on things from afar, making sure ‘that Harvey’ didn’t get up to anything.
Romeo on the other hand kept a closer eye on Harvey. He never let him out of his sight. When the rain started and we went inside Romeo was there, watching, while Montana stayed in the car in the carport.
At one stage Romeo just couldn’t contain himself any longer. He snuck up behind Harvey and tried to nip him on the butt. Harvey (who is wise to Romeo’s butt-nipping tactics) whirled around like a flash causing Romeo to virtually spring over the coffee table backwards, narrowly missing the coffee cups.
Yes, I did mention rain. Rain is too mild a word for the downpour. Firstly, let me mention that I’ve been in Tasmania for 8 Christmases now. And not a single one of them has been good weather. Once it even snowed. And before you ask, yes, its summer here. 
This Christmas was almost an exception. The day was hot and still. I’d put up the gazebo but made the executive decision to eat inside cause it was actually cooler in there with fans on. Lucky too. I was outside picking fresh raspberries for dessert when the wind picked up and the rain started. I tried to brazen it out a while, but the raindrops started coming down hard and I had to make a run for it. I got everyone galvanised to help take down the gazebo cover before it became airborne, take in the chairs, rescue one umbrella as it sailed off down the road. 
We sat inside and watched the rain come down in sheets and turn to hail. Then we watched in horror as the footpath turned into a mini tsunami that washed down the steps and into the casita, through the laundry and the workshop area, then down a crack in the floor, at which point it disappeared from sight. (I sure am glad Wayne isn’t a great carpenter and that he left a small gap between the old floor and the new!)
Wayne and I both waded out to make sure tools and other stuff was safe from the path of the water. It was coming in through the walls in some places.
In all the excitement we forgot that all the windows in the house were opened (it HAD been hot!). All the bedrooms are on the back side of the house – and the rain was coming down from that direction… straight into the bedrooms, soaking the single bed in the tiny room, the carpet in the main bedroom and guest room, and the office desk. ugh.
Anyway, no real harm done. Things have dried, things have been washed, and all seems ok.
So Christmas was exciting.
When everyone had gone the next day and 575 dishes washed, Wayne and I looked at the garden. The new deck will be going up soon and a couple of shrubs needed to be moved. A salvia and a hebe, both flowering gorgeously till we attacked them.
See, they were right in the path of the new deck. They had to go. So, going by what I’d been told, I cut  them right back and Wayne dug them up. I figured they were going to die anyway, we could at least try to transplant them… nothing to lose right?
Well, turns out the salvia wasn’t too hard to get out, though it came out in 2 pieces. I potted one up for a friend and planted the other. The hebe though wasn’t going to go peacefully.
Wayne dug and prodded and heaved with the crow bar. Nothing doing. So he got out a chain, wrapped one end around the bush and hooked the other end to the towbar on the ute. I watched as he accelerated slowly, carefully… and obliterated the bush, breaking it off at the base.
So much for transplanting the hebe!
I took cuttings from both bushes. Maybe I’ll get lucky and a couple of them will take.
We never claimed to be great gardeners. In fact we have a vegie patch which is growing in leaps and bounds and we have no idea what to do with the stuff in it! We don’t know when things are ready to pick or how to cook some of the stuff in there (the packet said ‘asian greens’ and it seemed like a good idea at the time! Now I have a patch of overgrown asian greens I have no idea what to do with!).
I put in about 15 silverbeet plants. Not my fault. That’s how many the punnet had in it! Wayne watched me plant them all. Then our neighbour gave us another 3 plants. When they were ready to pick Wayne told me he hates silverbeet. What on earth am I going to do with half an acre of silverbeet? sigh.
Luckily for me 1/3 of the stuff I put in died, or we’d be totally sunk. I think I may have to be more sensible next year. Put in less of some plants. Like the lettuce for instance. You can’t cook or freeze lettuce. What on earth am I to do with 613 lettuces? 
I need rabbits…
So. Once we’d pulled out the bushes, we had to put them in somewhere right? We’d prepared an area above the driveway, a bit of a slope. I’d bought some topsoil in anticipation of putting in a garden bed in that area. My idea was to create ‘steppes’ out of some cement blocks we inherited with the property. 
This is what the area looked like originally – the tarps were my way of passively killing the weeds. It didn’t work, they were still alive, but they did have a bit of a headache.
Wayne dug holes, we shovelled dirt, mixed in some horse poop and finally we were able to put the plants in. I put in 2 different daisies, a lavender, some seeds and a plant called Cherry Pie… Fingers crossed they grow. The dirt in that area is poor and I’m not sure we had enough topsoil. My theory is that if I feed them regularly they’ll be ok. If I’m wrong I’ll know soon enough.
It was hot too, though overcast. Wayne worked topless, and though he was all for me immitating him, I opted for the midriff look – tucking my T-shirt up into my bra at the sleeves and above my waist. We’re both sunburned. Wayne is lobster red all over his back. Me, I look like a belted galloway in negative.
What’s a belted galloway?
Meanwhile, Wayne saw his first snake the other day. He was walking through the bottom paddock, which looks like this:
He’s let the horses into the bottom paddock now so he had to set up water for them. While out there Barney apparently warned him about the snake he was about to step on. Damn lucky too, cause all he had on his was a hanky to beat it to death with.
So, life has been exciting here at Wind Dancer.

z

What goes around

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They say that if you do good things, good things will happen to you. I’ve always been amazed by how this works… All my life I’ve had good things happen to me in the most unexpected ways. Then again, I do good things for others too.

Its never a quid pro quo arrangement. I don’t do something good for someone who’s done something good for me. For instance, I give things away to people who need them, I rarely sell things I no longer need. Then, when I need something, someone else will give me something to help me out.

Its really quite cool how that works.

Many years ago, I lived in Melbourne and used to dance rock’n’roll about 4-5 times a week, going to pubs to follow bands. One of the most popular places to go on a Sunday afternoon to watch a band and dance had changed hands and was no longer doing rockabilly on Sundays. I missed it. So, when I bumped into an old classmate from art school who he told me his family had bought the pub, I instantly asked him to consider bringing back rockabilly. I gave him the phone numbers of the bands I knew, I recommended good bands which would draw a crowd and gave him advice on how to run it.

A few weeks later, rockabilly was back on the menu on Sunday afternoons.

It never occured to me to ask for anything in return. I gave my advice cause I wanted somewhere to dance again on a Sunday (selfish!), but also to help out a friend who said that their Sundays were quiet. He was happy, I was happy. I went there every Sunday and paid a cover charge just like everyone else. Until another friend of mine pointed out to the owner that he owed the Sunday success to me. From that point on I got in for free (a saving of $5), but I already had what I wanted. I felt good.

I asked a friend of mine at the time if she could give me the phone number of another band she knew well, so I could pass that on and they could be booked to play on the occasional Sunday. She wanted to know what was in it for her. Getting the band a gig and having somewhere to go to enjoy their music wasn’t enough for her. She wanted a spotters fee.

I never understood that mentality. When you do something for someone, you do it cause you want to, otherwise don’t do it at all. A friend will help you paint a room or move house cause that’s what friends do. Sure, I’ve offered to pay friends to do jobs for me, but in most cases its cause I wanted more help than they were able to give me on their own terms. When I was getting my house in Melbourne ready to sell, a good friend helped me repaint it. We didn’t get enough done on the weekend so I paid her to stay a couple of extra days. She was a student and needed the earnings from her job to make ends meet. I couldn’t ask her to miss work for nothing in return.

When I broke my ankle a few years ago and was laid up in my house, in a new state and knew only one neighbour, I got the most unexpected gift. Someone I’d only ever heard of from a discussion group called the local store and sent them some money for my groceries. I’m amazed that someone would do that for a stranger.

People can be so surprising. Especially when you don’t expect it.

On the other hand, I’m also a great believer in asking. I figure there’s no point in being shy or afraid to ask. The worst that can happen is you get a no. My ego can take that.

Yesterday when I went to pick up the work van I noticed a trailer load of rough timber boxes on the back of a trailer behind the business next door to work. There was a man working in the garden. I asked if the boxes were going to be thrown out, and if so, could I have them. He asked if I wanted them as planter boxes cause that’s what he’d thought of using them for, offered me some of them, then said I may as well take them all (9) and save him carting them around. I now have a stack of boxes in my drive waiting for a new home and plants!

Wayne was like ‘What’s that? More stuff!’ and this morning he was ‘I like those boxes, I may steal some…’

But the best was a phone call I received yesterday afternoon. On Sunday, when I picked up Merrill to take her to the airport, she pointed out a stack of underlay and carpet in the neighbour’s carport. The house has recently sold and they’re obviously rennovating and the old carpet is in the carport, most likely to go to the tip. She suggested I take it for the casita. I said I couldn’t go into someone’s yard without permission to take something which may or may not be destined for the tip. Different if its on the nature strip. Then its first come best dressed. For all I knew the guy had another use for it. So I went in and left a note on the stuff.

Yesterday afternoon I got a call from a man who was so thrilled that I left a note. He said he thought it was nice of me and cool to find the note, and that I’m welcome to take as much of it as I want. He was planning to take it to the tip on Saturday. He also asked me to stop by and introduce myself if he’s there next time I see someone in the house.

I made his day and that makes me feel nice. Plus I get new (old) carpet and underlay for the studio area of the casita and the grooming room! 🙂 Win win.

Well, the pre Christmas stuff won’t get done by me sitting here writing blogs. Better get off my butt and get started.

z