Archives for the month of: June, 2008

Incompetent Farm Woman

June 29, 08 //

I am not completely incompetent. I can dig holes with a shovel and I can bake my own bread.Â I can wield many types of saws and I can tell you exactly how to plumb an entire house. However, I have just discovered that I can’t dry laundry.

Now, I have hung laundry out to dry before with great success.

When I hung up yesterday’s load of laundry I thought all was well. I strung a nylon rope across the yard, and attached it firmly between the house and a giant tree.

After a number of hours on the line, the clothes were dry!

I know this because I happened to be outside,Â and I felt them–yes, very dry. I looked them over and said, “I am sorry, clothing, but I don’t feel like dealing with you right now!” I then went inside and fiddled around with my computer for, oh, the rest of the entire day. Then, I went to bed!

Upon waking in the morning, I looked outside at our clean socks and pillow cases flapping in the wind. Oh yes, I saw the sky threatening to turn; I saw the clouds rolling in. “I am sorry, clothing, but I do not feel like dealing with you right now.”

And then the rain began to sprinkle. “Clothing, stop bothering me!”

After three hours of heavy rain, not only are the clothes soaked from top to bottom, but the sheer weight of all this water has weighed them down to such an extent that clothes are now dragging on the ground. And for the life of me, I cannot lift the rope more than two inches, no matter how much I yank and strain.

A few months ago we received a glorious super-heavy-duty steel clothesline as a gift, and I think that it’s about time that we made time to set it up, so that I can ignore our clothing in peace– without fear of the drag-effect.

Montague Summer Days Scavenger Hunt

June 28, 08 //

Normally, we are slaves to our house and we only leave the borders of our property to:

A. Purchase building supplies; and

B. Purchase food;

C. Nope, there’s just A and B.

However, this weekend is a big weekend for our community–it’s the weekend of the Montague Summer Days festival.

This morning we drove the six-minutes to get to downtown Montague to watch the parade, which included tractors, horses, and the usual stream of children and community groups. I was impressed by the parade’s size and the grandeur of the whole experience. Lots of turnout, too, which is great to see.

We then partook in some kiosks and magic shows, killing time until the main draw (for us, anyway)–the Scavenger Hunt!

We signed up for the scavenger hunt weeks in advance, because figuring out clues and participating in games such as this are the highlight of my existence. We used to be avid geo-cachers (scavenger hunting with a GPS) and letterboxers (scavenger hunting with written clues alone), so a scavenger hunt in our community was right up our alley.

There was a time-limit of two-and-a-half hours to unravel twenty clues and head to the appropriate business in our community, collecting business cards and the like. The race was all on foot and we had a lot of fun. The clues were just right: tough enough to require some thought, but logical enough to be figure-out-able. (I know that “figure-out-able” is not a word, but I am of the mindset that if you know what I mean, then it should be a word.)

Now that it’s Summer and there are so many tantalizing activities going on all around us, I find that I can get a little frustrated with our nose-to-the-grindstone work ethic. My desire for participating in the community has been quenched for now, but there are so many attend-worthy events out there that I give myself a week before I’m chomping at the bit to take in a ceilidh or something.

PS: I’ve added an update and a couple more photos to yesterday’s dry-walling extravaganza entry, in case anyone is dying to read more about our adventures in dry-walling.. (I am not sure whether I’m being sarcastic; yes, dry-walling sounds monotonous, but if you’ve ever done it with abandon then you know that it can be an adventure. I mean, try taking nine different measurements, cutting them all out, balancing the sheet over your head, and then realizing that you’ve miscalculated something and you have to start all over again? Or what about when you’ve finally got the piece in position but you’ve left the drill a little too far away and you can’t quite reach it? Oh yes, dry-walling can be something to write home about!

Carnegie Hall

June 27, 08 //

Good morning,

Our house is a tiny two-storey, three-bedroom box.

Upstairs there is a hall that leads to all three bedrooms. When we moved in, the hall looked as follows.

The hall actually looks pretty cute in this photograph. Unfortunately, the plaster was crumbling off the walls and was very damaged. So…we removed all the plaster from the walls. Then we got distracted by other projects and this hall–the main thoroughfare–remained like this for two or three months:

But today we plan to change all that and enter the land of the living by drilling ten sheets of gyproc to the ceiling and walls.

Yesterday, we went to our beloved building supply store, “Kent”, and picked up the requisite supplies, so we’re all ready to go.

So, if you’d like to think about us today, picture us wearing tool-belts, heaving giant sheets of drywall up the stairs, and wielding Exacto knives in a maniacal fashion. And, no, this doesn’t sound like much fun to me either, but tangible progress makes me happy, so this is a good thing.

Now I just need to stand up, put away the cookies, and put on my work gloves. Any time now. Yep.

ADDENDUM I:

It’s three hours later and I haven’t left my chair. But I did read a lot about trees and shrubs on the Internet, that’s kind of productive, isn’t it?

ADDENDUM II:

Well, I am not sure why I came out and announced that we were going to get something specific done today, because, well, that’s a lot of pressure.

We did manage to get some drywall on the ceiling and walls, but then we got distracted by 100-year-old doors that don’t close properly. So, out they came–door-frames and all–and, many hours later, we now have doors that swing shut so perfectly they…well..I can’t think of a relevant analogy. Um, like butter melting on corn? I don’t know. You know what I mean; they’re smooth.

Somehow, while Cameron was working on the doors, I became obsessed with the fact that we hadn’t done laundry for almost a month; suddenly, my mind just couldn’t take it anymore, so instead of dry-walling I washed a giant load of socks. After I hung the laundry out to dry, I became obsessed with the state of our make-shift kitchen, so I washed dishes in the bathroom sink (our kitchen is just an empty room with a fridge and stove).

See, place a deadline ahead of me and I can find many-a-way to distract myself. Eventually, I suppose I did accomplish a little, but all in all it was Productivity-Zero, Distractions-One.

Maybe tomorrow?

All Alone in the Moonlight

June 25, 08 //

Today was the hottest day we’ve experienced during our time here on Prince Edward Island, and we spent a lot of time cutting gyproc outside in short-sleeved shirts.

In the sun we reminisced about our winter here and the frozen-to-the-bone era that nearly broke us. Memories are so bizarre; did we really spend twelve hours a day shivering inside this unheated house in minus sixteen weather? Honestly, it all seems like a strange vague past that could have happened to someone else.

Between 2000 and 2005 I kept a detailed ‘blog about my daily life, and this record of my existence was very important to me. It still is. Memories are really all we have. If we didn’t have them our experiences would be without meaning; what would be the purpose of, well, anything if we were to completely forget it once it had happened?

I recently came across a term-paper from my university days (”Meiji’s Commitment to Modernization: The Iwakura Mission”), and I cannot believe that I wrote the darn thing; somehow, I wrote seventeen pages about something I know now nothing about? Apparently the paper had something to do with Japan, but that’s about all I can tell you. And I got an A+!?

My first kiss in the eighth grade–I can think of some possibilities, but I can’t quite remember who it was with. I remember that I gained twenty pounds during high school, but I can never figure out what grade I was in when it happened. I know that I loved the book Jude the Obscure and I read it with vigour, but I can’t quite remember what it was about. Why did I want to major in Political Science again?

The most frustrating thing of all is that in ten years time I will be hard-pressed to remember this entire summer: “Um, Cameron and I were renovating a house that we bought on PEI. That was a good summer. I think.” Four months reduced to vague recollections of hair-styles and locations and generalities! This, I can’t stand. Every day we have billions of thoughts and worries and ideas and by the next day they have just blurred together into a seething mass of unrecognizable nothingness!

The fact that memories fade is primarily why I can’t stop writing in the way that I do. Somehow, keeping a record helps to reassure me that I will remember each day–the good and bad–and that challenges are worth taking. Otherwise, I might just sit on the couch all day and watch game shows. (Who am I kidding. I would do that anyway. If we had a TV. Or a couch.)

If You Build It…

June 17, 08 //

I am sitting on our bed wearing long-johns in June.

I am denying myself the urge to scratch a very tempting mosquito bite on my unshaven calf.

I am holding a “Montague Intermediate School” mug of hot chocolate in one hand, drinking it greedily.

I am glancing around this unfinished room, seeing work that needs to be done.

I am fantasizing about non-home-renovation-related projects, such as playing my cello, baking cakes, writing letters, writing stories, making bad art, wearing skirts, visiting friends, visiting neighbours, swimming in pools. Fantasizing about lying down on warm grass and feeling sun through my clothes. Fantasizing about long meanders in the woods and creative inspiration.

All of this fantasizing about free time reminds me of the old days, when I was in University and wanted to do more than my schedule allowed. Oh, and I suppose it reminds me of when I was working full-time and I wanted to do more than my schedule allowed… When will I ever learn?

The silver lining this time, though, is that I still believe that the free time will come; if we believe it and make steps towards having more time to do as we wish, it will have to come true eventually.

And so, for now, I bide my time and appreciate tiny moments of time-freedom, such as right now, while I drink hot chocolate and write to you.

Pictures at an Exhibition

June 11, 08 //

Let’s talk about what we’re doing here. It’s absurd; we’re far away from our loving families, we work on our house 12+ hours per day, I haven’t shaved my legs in…I don’t even know how long, we’re exhausted. We don’t take time off. We have various specks of paint and putty and caulking embedded in our hair. Our house is in a state of…be-dusted disrepute.

Would someone please remind why we are doing this?

Such is life, I think I’ll have to remind myself.

Here goes…

Hey look! Here’s our little house as it looks from our road!

And, Cameron, remember calling to each other from half-way across one of our giant fields!

Speaking of fields, here’s the combine that came with the house!

Here’s a found plow spring harrow or seeder thingamajiggy in our long grass!

And what about the apple blossoms–everywhere!

And, yes, those are our sheets drying on the line!

And remember when I picked up a baby starling with my own hands, because it jumped out of its nest? Here’s the box that Cameron built for the birds!

And, oh! Here’s the love of my life blowing me away with his endless skill, confidence, and can-do attitude!

So yes, I can be convinced that this is all worth-while.

In fact, I know it is.

The Painted Veil

June 11, 08 //

I’ve never thought of myself as a person who dislikes bugs. I recognize their place in the circle of life; they eat other bugs, they are fodder for birds, they can be pollinators and fertilizers–bugs are the life-blood of our eco-system!

When we began announcing that we would be moving to the Maritimes, in retrospect I do recall a few shudders, comments about the black fly “situation” and perhaps a few mutters involving the word “mosquitoes,” but somehow I seemed to have dismissed the whole bug situation completely. “Bugs? I laugh in the face of bugs. Some people just can’t take life in the outdoors; some people are soft, spoiled!”

And so the snow melted, and the grass started to sprout, and the birds chirped, and the apple trees started to bud. And so we ate our meals outside and savoured the wonder that is our property as it greened and came alive. And then came…May.

I recall that one May morning as we ate our corn flakes in the sunshine, Cameron said something about little black bugs flying around his head. I didn’t notice a thing; I thought him crazy.

The next day, I felt a prick on my forehead, and I swatted away a little black bug, “How strange.” And so it began.

Well, now we don’t go outside unless we are wearing a full arsenal of mesh–including the full face-mask feature. (Please, note the bugs on the mesh. Please.)

Our friends and neighbours tell us that the bugs are particularly bad at our place, and that a good yard clean up would probably help. Originally, we had delusions of letting the grass grow long because mowing the lawn is way down on the priority list, but we have caved in and finally given the grass a good raze.

I’m not sure whether mowing the lawn has helped to dampen the rampant bug frenzy, but at least our yard looks a little more…in keeping with the norm. And may I stress the little in the previous sentence; after all, our yard is still a furniture graveyard involving two toilets, a fridge, a stove, old couches, and an entire cargo trailer spewing construction debris. Baby steps, my friends, baby steps.