Making Things

Did I write about renovating the downstairs bathroom? The one Max was so repelled by he groaned and grouched about it hourly? The one room we didn't renovate when we bought this house five years ago? The only room that really showed its, err, age?

Wait, I did. Here. It wasn't a particularly ugly bathroom, but it was dated: plywood sink vanity with cheap melamine, ancient creaking taps with mould growing under the caps, bad wallpaper, and a shower stall that was unusable because, and I kid you not, it did not attach to the wall. We didn't notice it when we'd viewed the house, which was probably lucky, because by the time we noticed we'd already leapt into the house hook, line, and mortgage. At that point we were stuck with it.
So the kids took turns each day cleaning and grouching about the cleaning. We'd renovated the upstairs bathroom before moving in and our resident Shower King became so possessive about this new shower (not to mention the bathroom) that after a few years I threw down the Renovation Gauntlet to Richard: either we redo the downstairs bathroom or I go mad watching everyone but me use my bathroom.

Fortunately Richard is nothing if not a careful listener. And he knows when his (not very) long-suffering wife has reached a breaking point.
So we renovated. If Richard and I were an HGTV home design show duo, I'd be the Design Guy and he'd be the Tool Guy: I pick the tiles, the paint, and the fixtures while Richard does all the hard stuff like jackhammering and dealing with electrics and drains. I'm not so good with drains. But I am good at dragging logs off the beach so my dad can chainsaw them in half and Richard can stick them on the wall with embedded hooks for the kids' towels. Although, umm, I didn't actually drag the log off the beach...Max did. I chose it though.

Now the downstairs bathroom is so pristine and new I keep mistaking it for a hotel bathroom. And the Shower King keeps it so clean that we're all quite astounded. When he's not in the shower, that is.

He likes the shower, that boy.





I'm slowly adding little design touches to the room. Like this little sea glass and shell mobile. I collect these things during the summer when we go up island. We bring home little cartons of sand dollars, clam shells, moon snail shells, and driftwood. White rocks. Spotted rocks. Flat rocks. Some go to the garden. Some line the paths. Others sit on the front porch. Every so often Richard will say things like "That stuff is cluttering up the basement/carport/back deck/bedroom/living room. Are you EVER going to do anything with it? Or will it just sit here for the next 25 years?" or "How long is that box of driftwood going to sit in the carport?" or sometimes even "You are a packrat, you know."

Fortunately I am very good at tuning these rude remarks out. Because every so often I actually do something with all that stuff.

In Which We Get A Lemon House

It all started with this: two lemon trees, a concrete wall, some mulch, and a cold frame.

It seemed so easy at the time. Stick them in the ground. Watch them grow. Harvest lemons - in the event that they fruited. What I didn't bank on was how much growing them - this not being your typical lemon growing climate - would obsess me.

Okay, maybe I did. I might not have recognized it at the time, but hindsight is always 20/20, isn't it?
So I planted the lemons, and left them. Then I started looking at the path to the cold frame from this angle. The cold frame is at the end on the left, that small blob of plastic. But the path was so very crooked. Bumpy. Hard to mow. Awkward when picking peas and beans from the arbour (on the right). I will flatten this path, I thought. I will lift the sod, remove some soil, then replace the sod. The path will be flat and smooth...

...and it will lead to a Lemon House.
Fast forward several months, some discussions with family members (some willing, some rather, hmmm, let's just say recalcitrant and leave it at that), and many many discarded ideas.

Here is the germ of the method we finally settled on - in the bed of that red pickup. An old glass door set into a wooden frame. The man on the left (AKA: Willing Father) built it; the man on the right (AKA: Recalcitrant Husband) assisted in getting it into this truck. He has no idea what he's in for, which is probably a good thing.
Ignorance really IS bliss in some cases.
Once we got the glass over to the back yard of our house, there was, this being a Male Building Event, much measuring and discussion.

Endless measuring and discussing, actually.

Which was when I noticed that Recalcitrant Husband was standing on my lemon tree.

Bad Recalcitrant Husband.


We have a brief break while I intervene in the Male Building Event. Recalcitrant Husband, for all his wonderful qualities, has a long and distressing history of standing on plants in the garden without any clue OR concern whatsoever. When apprised of his Plant Standing Transgressions he doesn't bat an eyelid, either. "Well, what's it doing there?" he says, sometimes rather rudely. "That's not a good place for a —" I point out that he's actually IN the garden, where plants are SUPPOSED to be, but he never quite grasps the irony of my remarks. So I must be vigilant.

Here we have Lemon trees with Protective Coatings.

They laughed when I did this. Recalcitrant Husband might even have rolled his eyes at Willing Father a little, but I remained firm: either the lemons have a cover throughout the entire Building Experience or I stand around barking out remarks like "YOUR FOOT IS ON THE LEMON TREE!" and "WATCH THAT LEMON TREE!" and "ACCKKKKKK! THE LEMON TREE IS GETTING SQUISHED!" and maybe even a little "GET YOUR FEET OFF THAT LEMON TREE."

Fortunately everyone saw the sense in keeping the covers on the lemon trees.
They then resumed their endless measuring and discussing.

Measuring.

Discussing.

Measuring some more.

Discussing some more.


Then there was this lot, who spent a lot of time goading other people into getting ice cream from the freezer and eating it. They look innocent enough, but don't be leaving them near your freezers any time soon, lemme tell you.









And then suddenly it was up. The glass was on, the posts were in place, the frame was straight, the supports were screwed in.

It all looked wonderful, from any angle.



















But it was when I was taking this picture, ostensibly of the post and concrete block, that I noticed how, well, sunken the lemon trees were.

The lemons were sprawled on the ground, too. They'd been like that all winter.

Not a good look for a lemon, if you ask me.




So today I dug them up and set them on a base of soil and compost and manure. Built a little brick box around them.

Took another picture.







Stood back.

Admired.

Gazed.

Then thought "Hmm, it needs a little something on the sides."





And there you have it: The Lemon House

Things To Do With LEGO

FDPG and Dominic, once they knew we'd be going to a LEGO store Seattle, saved all the money they could wheedle out of their family - for an entire year (wheedle, I mean, not save).

Just kidding. They did both.

And, once we got to the LEGO store, they promptly blew it on a couple of sets. In about, ooh, maybe 12 minutes?

Those LEGO people, they sure know how to market their overpriced stuff (dare I say this out loud? will the LEGO gods be angry? shoot bolts of curiously shaped LEGO lightning at me?). My kids were thrilled at the prospect of dropping $150 on a small shop. Thrilled.

But when all is said and done, it's breath-taking in its cuteness. Look at that city block - even Sheila the LEGO Cheapskate would like to live there. This block comprises the Greengrocer, the Fire Brigade, and the Grand Emporium. The house at the end is a creation of our very own Mr LEGO (aka Dominic).





This is what Mr LEGO looks like.

"Ha ha ha! My evil plan to wheedle all the money out of my mum's bank account worked! Ha ha ha! Take that, Mortgage! And that, Grocery Bill! Mwa-ha ha!"

Ha ha ha, indeed.













"Goodness me, that joke is in very poor taste. What are you teaching your son when you joke about him spending mortgage money on LEGO? You're being fiscally irresponsible. I wave my fan at you in disapproval."












"Oh come ON. Lighten up Geisha Girl. Without all that money WE wouldn't be here either! Think of all the trouble that LEGO store employee had to go to to find us - would you want that wasted? Not to mention all the fun that stupid cat has with us at night when all the humans are asleep."
"We are the Borg Collective. We have come to absorb more money from your mother to fund our trips across the universe. What with gas being so expensive we have taken to stooping very low indeed. Mr LEGO, get your mother for us, resistance is futile. She WILL be assimilated. Well, her bank account. We don't know if we want her and her silly humour in here with us. She might give us ideas."

Things To Do With Paper

My intentions are good each year: I will be ready for Christmas earlier! I will not smack into the brick wall of December 23rd like I usually do! I will be more effective about my baking lists! If I do crafty things I will not be doing them right up until midnight!

Like I usually do is the operative phrase here.

Then mid-December sets in and I'm in the same place I always am: vaguely late. Slightly behind. Scrambling even. I am starting to suspect that this state of being might actually be my Modus Operandi, much to my chagrin.

One thing I did try to organize more this year was the Activity Side of Things. Most of the time I leave the kids to their own crafty devices, but this year the bookstores had their shelves full of really intriguing craft books, and both FDPG and Dominic love making things out of paper. So in November, even though it seemed MUCH too early to be thinking about such things, I bought one or two and squirrelled them away in the closet for later.

One was this book. Christmas: Paper Toys You Can Make Yourself. Do you know the Toymaker? We print a lot of toys from her website. They are old-fashioned kinds of toys: peep boxes, moving dioramas, pretty cards, and sweet boxes. There are holiday themes, storytime themes, games, and pictures, too. The colours are superlative, which makes printing them out highly addictive.


When I saw that she had a book out I couldn't resist it. I even bought two, so that I wouldn't be hearing things like "MUUUM! Dominic made the Nutcracker - I wanted to!"

When I brought them out last week both FDPG and Dominic were delighted. It was hard not to be, the artwork is fabulous, everything is perforated so there's no need for Serious Scissor Skills, and the card stock is glossy and stiff, perfect for paper toys you want to keep around. All of a sudden the mantle was covered with Nutcrackers, Happy Snowmen, Countdown To Christmas cards (with a little "thought for the day" on the back), Angel Elves, Snack For Santa boxes (with "I've been really good all year" on every side just in case)...





...Even a Santa and his sleigh (check out the gimlet eye on that reindeer).

Are they difficult to make? Well, you won't need any scissors, but you do need some dexterity with your fingers, as some of these projects require careful folding and gluing, but other than they aren't hard at all. And they are so charming.




The other book I bought was a Dover Stained Glass Activity book. I really like these stained glass books - they look amazing on a window. A while back FDPG did every single page of the Egyptian Stained Glass Activity book (the words Egypt and stained glass don't look right together, do they?) and stuck them up on her window. Now here's a Christmas Stained Glass book. It's been quite the hit.




















Another thing the twins like to make are these: we call them Tinfoil Saran Wrap pictures. I know, I know, how imaginative of us. But it describes them perfectly.

You find a large drawing you like, here we chose a tree in a sort of stained glass tableau, you tape the picture to the table, then you tape a piece of saran wrap over top. Make sure both the saran and the paper are secure. Get out your Sharpies (other felt pens won't work) and colour the saran over top of the picture. Don't leave any blank bits, and if you like the stained glass effect use a black felt pen to outline everything. Remove the piece of paper and place the saran on top of a piece of foil (that you've crumpled gently then straightened), and sandwich the two items between some black paper.

Sharpies are also useful on those balloon-style pop bottles you might find yourself purchasing in moments of fond maternal madness (these hit me right about now, just when my kids really need more sugary junk). Here we've made some oversized ornaments. You can drill a hole in the lid and place some rick rack for a loop for the Faux Real Effect...












And then there's the Personalized Christmas Card For Favoured Relatives. FDPG made these this week. That giant pack of scrapbooking paper I bought half price at Walmart last year came in handy, as did some Martha Stewart snowflake punches and a ruler that makes circles (for the snowglobe card below).









Now all I have to do is get my own projects finished...

LEGO Kits We'd Like To See

Coming soon to a pretend store near you...

We saw this ghost on the LEGO website the other day and one of the LEGO-mad children here instantly decided to build his very own. Saved me $2.99 plus shipping, because most cruelly we don't live near a LEGO store in the US (if you're wondering why I make this distinction, check the prices between American items and Canadian items - it's more than a little irritating).

Oh who am I kidding, I wouldn't have bought that little ghost anyhow. I'm far too cheap, besides, isn't that what imaginations are for? (ooh Sheila you sound just like your grouchy-no-doubt-even-cheaper forebears) One of us also made a bat, but tragically only one of us had enough black bricks, leading to a flurry of Frantic and Heart-Breaking Negotiations, all to no effect: Black Brick Bearer clung grimly to his hoard.

And now, we present more in the LEGO Kits We'd Like To See vein (as per this post):

This first kit was inspired by two things: 1) the fact that one of us has the Winter Toyshop and another one of us has long coveted some of the reallyreallyrare pieces, and 2) the new Winter Bakery now in catalogues everywhere. It's enough to make one of us gnash our teeth.

CITY
Fish Shop
Item #: 3660
Ages: 5-12
Pieces: 293

For the fish-monger in your family. Tidy two story shop with clear window in front for displaying your wares. Comes with 2 non-smelly fish and 1 very smelly fish vendor minifigure.


CITY
Treasure Hunter's Craft
Item#: 3978
Ages: 5-12
Pieces: 130

Spend the morning hunting for underwater treasure in this sleek, flat bottomed boat then spend the afternoon swimming, knowing that your treasure is secured in these state-of-the-art chests. What better way to wile away your summer days? Comes with 1 minifigure (with swim kit), 2 blue crystals, and 6 green crystals.

CITY
Retro Trailer Camper
Item#: 3164
Ages:5-12
Pieces: 360

Lounge around the campfire and look tres cool whilst doing so! This little unit comes complete with propane tank, water hookups & sunroof. Inside are bunks for 3 and a tidy little cooking area. Comes with minifigure & latte mug.

CITY
Custom Camper Van
Item#:3119
Ages:5-12
Pieces: 405

Fred here is just giving the windscreen a touchup, but otherwise this little van is in perfect nick. Sleeps 5 and has the most amazing cooking set-up you've ever seen: converts to a catering van when you need a little ready cash.

CITY
Golf Cart
Item#:3190
Ages:5-12
Pieces: 68

For the golf enthusiast in your family. This is a minimalist golf cart: fewer extras means more room for your friends and all your clubs. Seats 30 and more if you sit on each other's laps.


STAR WARS
Droid Execution Fighter Jet
Item#: 8009
Ages: 5-12
Pieces: 353

Two views for this impressive little piece of engineering! First we have her as she flies: quick as lightning, thrusters armed, and ready to blast those pesky droids into smithereens.


Then flip a switch and your ship is in landing mode: thrusters and phasers lowered for quick replacement, but we don't think you'll be doing much replacing of anything - this baby is made for speed. Nothing will catch you!

Houston: We Have Compost

I don't know about where you live, but in my neck of the woods cast-off wooden palettes are outside every kind of building shop, and businesses are always trying to get rid of them. They seem to reproduce rapidly in this climate too, so it takes about 5 seconds to accumulate a couple dozen of them should you have a yard project that needs doing (and needs palettes).

This being the Crunchy West Coast, where everyone has a compost bin and a spirulina smoothie with bee pollen and wheat grass, these palettes have evolved into the most popular material with which to make compost bins.

I've been wanting to build a new compost bin system for about, oh, maybe 5 years. But since we've always been renters, I've had to make do with those black plastic tub-like barrels everyone seems to have in their back yard. So yes, I did have two serviceable compost bins, but really, they aren't the best of designs, particularly when one has vigorous compost putter outers (CPOs) in the family. Mine have looked rather shell-shocked of late. So I started accumulating palettes. Much to Richard's unease. "More junk!" I think might have been his exact quote. "Oh, ye of little faith!" was my retort (which I realize doesn't really mean anything but at the time I couldn't think of a wittier reply).

Anyhow.

Free + Palette + Labour = A Good Thing.

Here we have the most popular style in compost bins. Also known as the Three Bin System, this trendy little number has a bin for each step on your compost's journey: 1) Beginner, 2) Intermediate, and 3) Fully composted. May or may not come with garden fork.

This one just appeared in my yard over the weekend. Magically. Really. One minute it wasn't there and the next minute - hey presto - it was. And look, there are already some compostable items inside! *

* item in question may or may not have had a little help from a handy guy named Richard, who would rather have been cleaning out the pigsty also known as the basement, so he could install some shelving he received many months ago, but we won't get into that because that isn't very productive, now, is it?

Now that the compost is in one place of the yard, instead of in several black plastic bins which migrate around the yard (and are usually in the most inconvenient places come winter when my CPOs are least interested in slogging around the yard with a heavy pail of vegetable trimmings).

Which leaves this part of the yard devoid of activity. Not being one to leave handy areas like these empty, I'm thinking chickens might look good here. Chickens or a really large greenhouse? Chickens AND a really large greenhouse?

Hey, was that Richard I just saw running down the street? Wait! Richard! Can't you help me build that chicken coop first?

Richard?

Richard?

Looking West

Yesterday morning our view to the west looked like this:

See that big View-Choking Tree there? It's a chestnut. A tree that is meant to spread its glorious canopy over a vast expanse of field. The previous owners of this house planted this tree themselves, a long time ago. So long ago that they didn't stop to think that it might be just a leeetle bit too close to the house. To the drains. To the concrete sidewalk going around the

back of the house. Needless to say, there isn't much canopying going on with this tree in this position.

So, it's been trimmed a few times since we moved in, once by a team of Wild & Crazy Tree Trimming Guys and once or twice by Richard the Man Who Can Climb Anything. And each time it grows back faster and more vigorous than before. Eventually it will have to entirely disappear, because it is now in all the drains of every house within a 50 mile radius

On Sunday Richard came back from a conference. He'd been away for five days. And right after breakfast the first thing he said was "That tree needs trimming."

I think I might have gulped. I don't like watching him climb that high, especially as he usually has a chainsaw or a large hand saw slung over his shoulder. I know this is one of your typical Manly Images but it gives me the willies. Images of wheelchairs and life insurance policies run through my head.

See, there he is. High up in that tree.

And here is that same western view after Richard the Man Who Can Climb Anything did his thing. It's hard to describe just how much more we see from that side of the house. It's a big sky view. A really big sky view. We might even see the moon set now.

Right after he'd come down from the tree and we were cutting it up into firewood, I asked him if we could make an arbour from the longer poles. I'm sure I've mentioned this before but I am rather challenged in the Building Things From Wood department. I suffer much ridicule for this within my family, because even though I am terrible at building things, I still persist, in the hopes that one day I might get good at it. My Hopeful Evidence is all over the place, still causing much glee after a couple of years. Richard, who had just spent the past 3.5 hours climbing, sawing, felling, cutting, and splitting, looked at me from under a brow drenched with sweat.

"Arbour? Now? How about next Saturday?" he managed to blurt out, much more nicely than would have. He didn't even give me an Are You Nuts I Nearly Killed Myself Up There And Now You Want Me To Build You A $#@**$&@&$ Arbour? look, which I know I would have if I'd been in his place.

I did something then, something so unusual that I apparently stunned all present: I smiled reasonably and said "Sounds great." I thought I was doing a particularly stellar version of my patented Jane Austen Heroine routine but Richard obviously thought I'd been hit by a stray branch, because he peered at me closely a few times before returning to his stacking and splitting. Then he went over to the long lengths of chestnut and said "Okay, sure, why not. Let's do it now while the wood is still wet and bendy."

And so we did. It's a little rickety, because we never did find any straight branches, and it almost looks like something I'd build, but it's big and strange looking and should be perfect holding up all the plants I have destined for it. It's got a Cabernet Sauvignon grape on one side, and a David Austen The Fairy climbing rose on the other.

Sheer Bloody Genius!

(Sheila says oh-so-modestly)

To begin with, you have to know that I am not the sort of person who is good at building things out of wood. I can wield a hammer and nails and wield them enthusiastically; I can even arrange driftwood most artistically in the garden, but no one in their right mind would ever hire me to build anything for them. Ever. But today I discovered something that really thrilled and charmed the Pathetic Inner Builder in me.

First, it actually works.

Second, it's likely to remain in working order for a while.

Third, it's portable (and I love portable garden devices).



What is it, you ask? (can you even see it among all those stakes?) It's a portable trellis. Made from two 6' cedar stakes, a roll of galvanized (non-rusting) chicken wire, and some thin wire left-over from the raspberry trellis. I placed the stakes on the ground, measured up 3" from the bottom, and started attaching the chicken wire on both sides until I reached the top, then folded the top over so it wouldn't slide down too much. Then I stuck the stakes in the ground over my newly planted broad beans. And wonder of wonders but it didn't crumble right there and then.
It all came about because the larger trellis, around which I am growing scarlet runners and peas, was too wide to hang the chicken wire vertically. If I'd hung it horizontally I would have to cut and attach (and eventually run out of) the wire more than even I could deem sensible. After some feelings of extreme frustration and irritation pondering, it suddenly occurred to me to run the chicken wire vertically with two stakes on either side. Sheer bloody genius, I tell you. Doesn't happen very often, either, which is why I am exulting so shamelessly.