A Different Branding

Branding is a big part of life in this cattle country that we live in. New Mexico takes brands very seriously, and everyone who has livestock needs a brand. We even had to register for a brand with our tiny sheep flock.

Because of the number of cattle ranches here, and the number of calves born on those ranches every year, every year sees a lot of branding. It's most commonly done in late spring, mostly May, and those weekends get very busy as every ranch brands all their calves.

Sometimes, however, there are summer calves that need to be branded in the fall. That's what happened for a small part of our friends' herd this year. I got a call on Thursday that they had about a hundred small calves that needed to be branded and they were hoping we could bring the boys to help flank on Sunday.

Flanking refers to grabbing the calf and flipping it onto its back, and then holding it, so the branding, vaccinating, ear tagging, and castrating (if necessary) can all get done. Flanking is a two-person job. The person in the back grabs one of the back hooves and holds on so the person at the head can flip the calf onto its back by grabbing the opposite front hoof. Then the front flanker pins the calf by its neck while the person holding the back hoof hangs on and leans back. In this way the calf is (mostly) immobile for the people with the branding iron, needles, and knife or bander (depending on if the castrating is going to be an immediate cut-'em'-out or a banding job) move in to do what needs to be done.

Flanking is very hard work. It's dirty, physical, and somewhat dangerous, especially with bigger calves. Mostly when the calves are bigger, the preference is to have draggers on horseback. They rope the calf around a hind leg and drag it to flankers to hold and flip.

These calves were very small, and this ranch doesn't use horses, so these calves were just grabbed and dragged by the flankers. This process is known, amusingly, as "mugging."

This ranch is owned by a family we know fairly well. Their son is just a little younger than our youngest son, and he wanted to try flanking for the first time. He wanted our youngest son, who is now almost 12, to try for the first time too. Our older two boys have flanked already, although always with horseback draggers. So we brought everyone down to the ranch right after church on Sunday to help.

This ranch is waaaay out on a dirt road. We drove 40 minutes from the village on a dirt road before getting near the branding pens.

Adventure Van has a very dirty windshield.

Our son's friend came to meet us on his four-wheeler when we were close to the turn-off to the pens, so he could lead us there.

Follow the four-wheeling leader.

The pens were just in the middle of the range off a dirt track.

Good old Adventure Van, still adventuring.

The calves were split into two groups of about fifty each, in separate pens.

The second group waiting their turn.

There were a lot of people in the work pen. Besides three teams of flankers, there were two older men who helped with the more frisky calves, and about six women and girls who did various jobs like vaccinating, a nasal spray of some kind of medication, castrating, ear notching (to identify steers and heifers at a glance), and ear tagging.

Crowded in there.

Because there was no electricity there, the branding iron was heated by a generator. What with the bawling calves in the pens, their mooing mothers outside the pens, and the generator, it was very, very loud. Also very dirty and smoky, as the crew working in the dirt pen kicked up dust and applied the smoking brand.

Our older two boys worked as a team, younger at the heel, older at the head.

Workin' hard for the money.

The youngest boy and his friend worked as a team, too, with the smaller calves. They learned how to grab and flip the calves pretty quickly, but they were too light to hold the calves themselves. The older men stepped in to help with that. Weight is important when one is wrestling and holding an animal.

Poppy got conscripted into notching ears. She could only do this with the heifers, who apparently had thinner skin. The bull calves were harder. A slightly older girl did those, along with the ear tags.

A. and I were pleased to stand outside the pen to watch the action and hand over water to the children at intervals. Until just after the second fifty calves were in the pen and the eldest son got kicked in the hand by a calf. The hoof hit right at the base of his thumb, and then he couldn't move his thumb at all.

Dang it.

Injuries are not uncommon at brandings. Almost everyone winds up with a bruise from getting kicked. Some people get broken bones. We were really hoping this wasn't a break, given the small size of the calf that kicked him, but of course, the only way to be sure was an x-ray.

A. stepped in to take his place as flanker while a lady who does wilderness search and rescue splinted son's thumb with a cleverly cut piece of a water jug top and some bandages. By the time we got him splinted, the branding was almost done, so we waited until the last few calves were done before driving to the hospital to get his hand x-rayed.

Of course, driving to the hospital was not as quick as it could have been, given our location. We had to follow that same dirt road another forty-five minutes in the opposite direction before getting to a paved road, which we drove on for another forty-five minutes before getting to the small city that has an ER.

A. dropped the patient and me off at the ER and took the other kids to the Sonic right next door for lunch.

The hand was duly x-rayed.

On a nifty mobile x-ray machine.

It wasn't broken, just sprained. Thank goodness. He got a brace and a pain pill and we were out of there within an hour. 

Despite the unfortunate injury, everyone had a good time. Brandings are actually pretty fun. Kind of like a work party. The kids love them, and I'm sure we'll be going back there again in the spring for their bigger branding.

We'll just hope there aren't any high-kicking calves with good aim next time.

I Got New Steps

I think it's probably clear to anyone who has been reading here for awhile that we do not live in a luxurious home. I mean, it's great for our family, but it's not really a normal house. What it is, in fact, is a 1972 single-wide trailer with owner-built additions from the 90s. It's old, with some very, um, unique elements.

We--by which I mean A.--have fixed or replaced some things over the past several years, but it's always an ongoing project.

The most recent phase of our very slow remodeling was the front-door steps. They were pretty bad, just a too-high concrete slab with some cinder blocks underneath, the whole thing covered in nasty old white carpet.

After removing the carpet.

I asked A. if he could put new steps there that weren't quite so steep. He decided to do this with brick, as brick is flatter and more regular than the irregular stones he usually builds walls with.

He kept the existing concrete, which saves quite a bit of time and materials. He just covered them over with bricks. This also had the benefit of raising the height of the step under the door to much closer to the actual door level.

After A. had laid out all the bricks and started putting the mortar in the cracks, Poppy asked if she could help. Mortaring isn't heavy work, nor is it particularly difficult, so he showed her what to do and left her to it.

She did almost all of the mortaring herself. It took her about five hours, and she did a very good job.

Mini mason at work. Ah, to be eight years old and flexible enough to squat like that.

And now we have very nice brick steps that are sort of comical leading up to our not-very-nice trailer.

The lower concrete platform on the side at the right is where the dogs like to lie at night, so as to guard the door. Since we had taken their comfy disgusting carpet away, I bought them an actual dog mat for right there. They were suspicious of it, but seem to be gradually getting used to it.

These steps are much more comfortable for me with my shorter legs to get up and down, as well as looking much better, and I'm very happy with them. Yay, A.

Add Salt to Taste

As we look at a weather forecast that features high temperatures in the mid-90s,* I have excavated all the beer salt out of the back of the cabinet in preparation.

We even have one in a whimsical tiny beer bottle package.

We will need the beer salt to keep A. going when he's out working in the heat. He always does. He doesn't mind doing labor when it's in the 90s, but he does mind how awful he feels if he doesn't stay salted. Not just hydrated, but salted.

A couple of weeks ago when he was building a stone wall and weed-eating for a few days, he would consistently get to the afternoon feeling bad, lethargic and headache-y. He had been drinking plenty of water or lemonade, but was still dragging.

And then he realized it was because he didn't have enough salt.

He doesn't really eat when he's working like that, see, so he wasn't getting salt until dinnertime. As soon as he started adding salt to his lemonade, he was fine and could work all afternoon again.

Because he's putting it in lemonade, he prefers the lime beer salt. I don't know how much he puts in his glass, but enough that he can faintly taste it.

When eldest was working on a fencing crew--a notoriously physically-challenging job, and one he did routinely when it was around or over 100 degrees--his boss gave everyone beer salt on their breaks. They just ate it, which is also an option.

However its ingested, if you also need to work outside in high temperatures, make sure to drink enough, but also make sure to get some salt into you**. 

* I know this is not high for many of you, but it's pretty hot for us here. Even if it is a mostly dry heat. 

**This is, of course, already part of hydration drinks like Powerade, but we don't typically have those. Switchel works, too, but A. prefers the salted lemonade.

The Big Bathroom Reveal

If you've been with us here for the past several months, you'll know that A. and I have been battling to renovate both of the bathrooms in our trailer for awhile now. The trailer is from 1972, and we're pretty sure the bathrooms are original to it. There were leaks. The floors were spongy. The tubs were cracked. The sinks were rusting.

It was ugly. It took forever. But we finally finished.

I don't have a lot of before photos, as it turns out. There's this one that shows the lovely avocado-green plastic tub surround. 

Cute baby, hideous tub.

And this one showcasing the faux-marble vanity top that had yellowed over time.

Lovely.

Those were both in the children's bathroom, which is also the guest bathroom. A. demolished the entire thing while we were in Colorado this summer, right down to ripping up the floors. The only thing he left was the vanity, as it was built into walls on three sides.

He replaced the bathtub with a deep soaking tub, even pouring concrete for its base. And then he put in an external shower system of copper he ordered directly from Morocco. He put in a new toilet. He put down a new floor of plywood and then covered it with Moroccan-patterned vinyl tiles. 

And then I painted. I painted the walls and the cabinets blue, and eventually, I got around to painting the sink and counter with a two-part epoxy paint that was tricky and drippy and time-consuming and absolutely REEKED.

Even with a mask, even with every door and window in the house open, it was overwhelming.

I even used some bronze-colored spray paint on the light fixtures, outlet plates, and cabinet pulls.

Upside-down egg cartons work very well for holding the pulls stable.

And finally, FINALLY, it is done.

Hard to get a picture of the whole bathroom, but this is most of it.

I have even fewer photos for the adults' bathroom. It had the same green tub, same faux-marble counter, same disintegrating floor, with the addition of some water damage on the ceiling from a long-ago leak.

The only photo I have is of the sink before I painted it.

And now it is done.

A. removed the tub, but decided instead of putting another tub in there, he would build a shower stall. He did this out of brick and concrete.

In progress.

And almost done. He still wants to find something to put over the painted walls.

A. did an incredible amount of work on all of this, most of it things he had never done before. The end result is very satisfying, though.

It was worth it, but we're very glad it's done.

Again with the Painting

 Almost exactly two years ago, I painted the children's bathroom. I was very proud of myself for getting it done, and also happy that I could cross one more room off my list of rooms that need painting.

Except then I had to do it again.

After A.'s spectacular bathroom renovation in there that included entirely replacing the sub-floor and then putting Moroccan-style blue and white stick-on tiles over that, the walls looked . . . wrong. The white on the tiles was so bright that it made the yellow-y white of the walls look dingy. There were also a few spots around the bathtub especially that had gotten roughed up from the tub installation with deep scratches and peeling paint.

And then there was the bright yellow on the cabinets, which was a little much with the floor color and pattern.

Much as I hated to do it, the whole bathroom really needed to be painted again. 

When I investigated our cans of paint in the shop, I found that I really didn't have any usable paint left. Accordingly, the next time I was at Walmart, I bought some paint. This being a New Mexico Walmart, I did not have it in me to try to pick out a paint color to be mixed and then hunt down an employee to mix it for me. Instead, I took a look at the limited pre-mixed color options and went with the lightest blue available.

This was still not as light as I wanted it to be, even after I mixed in a whole quart of white paint I had. I forged ahead anyway. The end result is very blue. 

There are no windows in this bathroom, so the color is kind of hard to see. It's definitely blue, though.

I had wanted to paint the middle of the cabinets white for contrast, but I used my white paint to tone down the blue. So blue on blue it is.

I am not a huge fan of blue in general, and I am far from a professional painter, but this certainly does look much better than it did.

My next challenge is going to be painting the awful faux marble sink and countertop with white tub finishing paint, due to be delivered on Friday.

Yuck.

And then I will do the same thing--sink and all--in our bathroom, which A. just finished working on. At least that one I procrastinated so much on painting that I haven't done it recently.

In a couple of weeks*, we'll have two freshly-painted fancy bathrooms. And then I won't paint anything for a long time. I hope.

* I have to go get more paint for our bathroom. This time I'm going to get a gallon of white and just tint it a little with the blue paint I have left. I really don't want our bathroom to be quite so blue.

A Teaser

When we went to Colorado, A. stayed home to take care of the animals. He also took the opportunity to completely demolish the children's bathroom. There were leaks in the tub, toilet, and sink that were causing the floor to buckle, as well as forming an unwelcome swampy area under the trailer. The toilet only flushed with help from an extra bucket of water, and the bathtub was the original avocado-green plastic fixture from the seventies.

It was way past time to address it, is what I'm saying.

So while we were gone, A. pulled out the toilet, the tub, and the entire floor.

The old tub out the back door, awaiting its trip to the dump.

The new plywood floor. Delightfully solid underfoot.

With a great deal of hard work, he managed to have the floor and toilet installed before we got home. Then we chose some peel and stick vinyl floor tiles to cover the plywood. Since these tiles are going in our 1970s trailer-with-additions, we definitely do not need to worry about resale. So we chose exactly what we wanted.

And what we wanted were Moroccan-style tiles in blue.

We're waiting on the tub and shower fixtures to be delivered this week, and then A. can finish putting in all the plumbing. 

I'll post some pictures when it's done. Stay tuned.

Real Tradwives of the Country

Happy Fourth to all my fellow Americans! Have a totally random post, with no photo, in celebration of our great nation.

Although I am definitely an Internet dinosaur--having a personal blog just for fun is pretty much obsolete these days--I do still see a lot of what goes around online these days. And one of the things I see a lot is discussion of "tradwives." 

If you are not familiar with this, it stands for "traditional wives," and so far as I can see, is supposed to be something like June Cleaver crossed with Ma Ingalls. 

A tradwife makes sourdough bread, grows a big garden, keeps an immaculate house, cares for animals, has many children, and does all of this in a white cotton dress and cute boots.

This seems to be tied to the rise in "homesteading" as a lifestyle choice, and has quite justifiably created a backlash of mockery.

As anyone who has ever lived a "homesteading" life can tell you (and most people are living a very light version of that life, myself included), a woman cannot do all of that. She cannot care for everything perfectly, keeping everything and everyone in her orbit perfectly manicured and photo-ready. It's just not possible.

It's a dirty life, and it's often not pretty. It's muddy, or bloody, or smelly, or full of maggots. Because that's what life is like if you live anywhere close to the natural world.

I was thinking about this yesterday when the children and I were cleaning out the truck bed.

I had not planned on cleaning out the truck bed yesterday. I was actually on my way to go gather apricots from my neighbor's tree in the pasture across the road. Picking apricots and making jam from them is a perfectly acceptable tradwife activity. It's even possible, I suppose, to do those things while wearing a sundress.

I, however, was still wearing my running shorts and t-shirt from my early-morning run, because I had been so busy in the garden and kitchen that I hadn't showered and changed yet.

I was going to take the truck so I could bring the ladder and rake to reach the high ones. But when we got to the truck, we saw that the truck bed was covered in a layer of hay and sand that I had meant to rake out to mulch my tomatoes.

Okay, I thought. I'll just do that real quick.

Ha ha.

Forty-five minutes later, I had filled the wheelbarrow with noxious hay; removed the incredibly heavy rubber truck bed mat that had been harboring a truly disgusting layer of soaked and fermenting hay underneath; raked, swept, and hosed out the muck from the truck; and flipped that giant, heavy mat twice to scrape and wash it off.

I did all of this wearing my running clothes, plus A.'s muck boots. I got liberally splattered with foul muck, and was drenched in sweat by the time I finished*.

This is when I went into A.'s office with the rake in my hand and told him, "I'm ready for my tradwife photo shoot."

Because that's what it really looks like to be a traditional wife: Sweaty, dirty, and tired.

A. asked me if I actually wanted him to take my picture. I did not, because I wasn't feeling very photogenic, so there's no record of this particular moment in our "homestead" life. 

It's just one of many through the years, however, and I'm sure it won't be the last. 

* It was a very dirty and tiring task, but also quite satisfying, which sums up our life in a nutshell.

We Have a Floor!

Or perhaps more accurately, we have carpet on the floor.

I am speaking, of course, of the floor in my bedroom. This is one of the rooms in which a window broke all the way through during our Severe Weather Event in July. It is also the only room with a blown-out window that had carpeting in it.

That carpet got completely saturated and I had to pull up the soaked part of it. This left an area of particle-board sub-floor at the entrance to my room that was . . . displeasing. To say the least.

Yeah.

The carpet itself was no great loss, as it was a very ugly brown carpet from at least the 1980s. But having part ugly old carpet and part sub-floor was worse.

It still took us until now to get it covered over, though. I am not good about making decisions for things like this, so I spent more time than I should have figuring out what to put in there. 

Laying down actual carpet is pretty tricky, and we have no experience with it. The nearest place that does it is 100 miles away. So I decided instead to try out the carpet squares that are peel and stick.

Many of these are very institutional looking, of the sort you would see in a school or doctor's office. That was not what I wanted. I wanted something that looked like an actual carpet, with some pile to it. 

Most of the options for more carpet-like material for home use were in shades of gray, which was also not what I wanted. I am not into gray, and its ubiquity in interior design things lately is irritating to me. But I finally found some that looked like carpet, were a shade of light brown, and weren't too expensive. 

I had A. do the measuring of the room and the figuring of how many boxes we would need, because I am hilariously bad at such things and would certainly have messed that up in a big way.

I ordered them from Walmart and went through that situation so common nowadays of frequent e-mail updates on the status of my order, culminating in an e-mail two weeks later telling me the order was canceled entirely. I got a full refund, but still. Annoying.

So then I got to do it all again, but this time with Amazon, who actually delivered what I ordered. (I got these, in case you were wondering.) 

And then the boxes of carpet squares sat in our living room for . . . a long time.

It's like an extra table! I guess.

They had to be in the living room because they couldn't get dirty/wet/hot or otherwise messed up, and there was nowhere else big enough to put that many boxes.

So they sat there.

In our defense, I REALLY did not want to try to do this project with all four kids at home. The interruptions and general chaos would have been too much. 

Just feeding them all with all of this surrounding the dining room table would have been a mess.

That meant a Tuesday or a Thursday when they were all at school, but A. and I were both home and didn't have anything else to do.

This confluence of events has not happened much in the past month or so, what with sick children home from school, surgery for one, me substituting at school, A. getting hay, etc.

But finally, FINALLY, I declared Tuesday to be The Day of the Carpeting.

And so we did it.

Well, A. did the carpet part. I did all the cleaning--there was a lot of that--shifting of things, finding of tools, fetching and carrying, and general assistance.

A. did all the demo of the remaining carpet, removal of padding, pulling up wood strips with tacks around the edges of the room, and taking out staples. Lots of pulling and prying that required hand strength that I do not have.

He also did the actual laying of the squares. The reason he did this was because the laying down of these squares, while simple in theory, actually required quite a bit of figuring and cutting to get them to fit snugly up against each other so you couldn't see the seams, and also to fit around closet doors and corners. 

Another thing I would be hilariously bad at. Visualizing shapes has never been my forte. Just ask my geometry teacher in high school.

Anyway.

The instructions for installation on the back of the box were actually sort of complex, recommending snapping chalk lines and moving out from the center of the room in a specific pattern and all that. A. did not do any of that. He started at the door and worked his way through the room from there.

Because we weren't working with all one big piece of carpet (and because we didn't follow the installation instructions), we didn't have to move the biggest furniture out of the room. We did one part of the room, then shifted the bed over onto that. Then we continued until we got to where the dressers are, shifted those onto the squares already in place, finished up, and moved it all back.

Here's a side-by-side in-progress of the new carpet and the old. Ugly brown on the right is the old one.

From the time I started moving furniture out of the room to the time I got it all back in, vacuumed, and everything cleaned up was almost exactly 7.5 hours.

It was very tiring, but I am SO HAPPY to have a real floor in my bedroom again.

A vast improvement.

So! The final verdict on the carpet squares? Recommend.

A. did all the work with them, and he kept saying what a great product they are. Not easy, exactly, but certainly easier than a big piece of carpet that requires laying padding and tacking down and all that. It was very do-able for someone handy like him. Even I probably could have managed it, albeit not as quickly, neatly, or efficiently.

I was sure they would smell terrible to start with, but there was no chemical odor at all right out of the box, which was a nice surprise. Nothing shifted when I vacuumed them after installation, either. I was a bit concerned that the corners or something would pull up, but no.

Two cons I will mention, however. 

A. did an excellent job setting these against each other to make it look as much as possible like a single piece of carpeting. But, if you're looking very closely, you can see a couple of seams in the room where the squares abut. This doesn't bother me in the slightest, especially because 80% of the floor is covered in furniture. But if you're a perfectionist and you're using them in a more open room, it might bother you.

Also, my children, who spend a lot of time flopping on the floor of my room, complained that there isn't enough padding now. There is actually no padding except the bit on the back of the squares themselves, because the squares are laid directly on the hard floor. I guess I can tell the difference when I walk on our old carpeting in the hall and so on, but since I'm just walking on it, not lying down on it like my kids do, I don't care about the small difference in padding.

I have no idea how these will hold up in the coming years, but for now, I have a nice carpet in my room. And that makes me very, very happy.

A Woman of My Word

I said I would paint the children's bathroom yesterday. I did it.

I am very proud of myself, yes. And I'm going to post lots of photos to revel in my accomplishment.

Although I may most kindly be described as a slapdash painter, I did actually take the time to tape the electrical outlets, towel racks, and so on before I started.

Using some very colorful masking tape that I think my mother gave us.

I also put down the most redneck drop cloth ever.

It's made from a cut-up chicken-feed bag. 

Even with the drop cloth there, I still managed to get drips of paint all over the floor while I was painting. Slapdash, like I said. This is why I always keep paper towels on hand when I'm painting.

Anyway.

One of the things I was happy to paint over was this little wall drawing done by an unidentified child some years ago.

No one ever confessed, but I have my suspicions.

Another thing I was very happy to paint over was the border of flowers all around by the ceiling that was put up by some previous occupant of the house.

I love my sunflowers, but this is not to my taste.

Because I just didn't care that much, I didn't bother scraping off all of this floral paper. Instead I just painted over it. This is what that same area looks like now.

Much better.

I had a gallon of bright white indoor paint, and a quart of "sunshine yellow." So I painted everything white except the cabinet doors. For those, I put some of the yellow in with the white, to tone down the sunshine a bit.

This is the wall with the nails that started the whole thing.

You can't even tell the mess that was there before.

I'm quite pleased with how it turned out. 

Next on my painting agenda is the adults' bathroom. It has a ceiling border of giant magnolias with a maroon background. I can't wait to cover that up.

Seeking Accountability

Today is supposed to be all about the food I'm growing in my garden, and in fact, I have many tomatoes on the remaining tomato plants, hooray! I do not, however, have many ripe tomatoes in my kitchen yet, and if this year has a theme of any kind, it's one of not counting my tomatoes before they're ripened.

So. No gardening today. Instead, I am here to ask for help.

I need to paint a bathroom today. It is the children's bathroom. It has needed to be painted since . . . well, since before we moved in five years ago. Although I did do a lot (A LOT) of painting before we moved in, I did not get to the bathrooms. 

I really dislike painting, so it's one of those things that I could always find an excuse not to do.

But then I got free paint from the school maintenance guy who was trying to clear space in the school shop. And then a certain child who shall remain nameless put up something on the wall of his room using four, four-inch nails. His room shares a wall with the children's bathroom. The shared wall is not four inches thick.

The nails went straight through the wall and stuck out into the bathroom, right over the toilet, about two inches.

It was not a good look.

Said child cut off the ends of the nails with an angle grinder, which did eliminate the sticking-out nails, but also resulted in large gouges in the wall.

Also not a good look.

So I'm pretty much forced into painting now, because I may not have really high standards for our very well-used home, but that was a bit much even for me. 

I managed to get all the various holes and gouges spackled, and the spackle sanded.

So many holes. Such a bad photo.

Today is the day. Today, as you are my witness, I will put the first coat of paint on those walls. I'm telling you this to hold myself accountable. Because if I tell all of you I'm doing it, and promise to post the after photo, then I will actually do it.

Otherwise, I can quite easily convince myself that I have more important things to do. Like bake cookies. Or clean under the bench in the living room*.

But today is a Painting Day. Wish me luck. I'm going in.

*Although that really does need to be done. It can wait, however.

La Casita Labors

Yes, we have once again flung (flinged?) ourselves into the joyous and dirty labor of renovating the old adobe house next door. By which I mean we did some more cleaning and covered ourselves in filth.

When we last left our intrepid house-rehabber (that's A.), he and his short assistants had done some spectacular and very satisfying demolition. Leaving a spectacular and not-so-satisfying mess.

That mess sat there for, um, three months.

We're working in fits and starts, okay? Although I'm not sure which are the fits and which are the starts.

Anyway.

A. happened to have his trailer still hitched up from bringing sheep to auction, so the day before a Dump Day (which are Wednesdays, Fridays, and some Saturdays here), I suggested that he drive the trailer around to the casita and we could all go over there to help him load it with detritus.

So he did. And we filled it.

This trailer sure was a useful purchase.

All of this stuff came from the middle section of the house where we tore the dividing wall out.

Looks better than the last time I took a photo of this area.

Karen. asked me last time I posted about this what the layout of the house is like, and I never answered. Sorry, Karen. But I'll answer now! 

So in the above photo, I was standing in the exterior door leading into what used to be the two rooms we combined by tearing out the wall. Not sure what they were used for when the last occupants lived there, but that very first room is one of the original two rooms of the adobe. The other original room is a bedroom, the doorway of which is not visible in the photo, but is to the left of where I was standing.

So the original house was only two rooms. And there were probably like eight kids in the family. 

And there I was, complaining about one kid in four rooms.

Okay, back to our descriptive house layout tour . . .

In the next room up, on the other side of the wall we took down, are two doors on either side leading to added bedrooms.

Through that door straight ahead you can see in the photo is the kitchen. To the left in the kitchen is a door leading to a living room, which in turn leads to the only bathroom. To the right of the kitchen is another exterior door leading to the enclosed porch that houses the rabbits.

I hope that those details are enough to enable you to visualize the layout, because I would certainly not be a good candidate for drawing it. Although . . . I could have Cubby draw it. Maybe I will.

Anyway again.

It wouldn't be a workday at the casita is there wasn't at least a little bit of violent destruction. So we let the children pound at the terrible combination of concrete, nails, and chicken wire that A. pulled down from the exterior walls. I was hoping they would be able to break up the concrete enough that we could dispose of the chicken wire.

Despite their enthusiastic pounding, the concrete remained stubbornly stuck to the chicken wire. Boo.

A. spent some time chiseling the old plaster off the adobe walls in preparation for repairing them and re-plastering.

Tedious, but necessary.

Luckily, that is a job he can delegate to his least-junior assistant, as it is neither particularly dangerous nor difficult. So now Cubby has a summer job. For which he will get paid nothing but the satisfying knowledge that he is contributing to a worthwhile project. Ahem.

So that's where we are with la casita at the moment. I'm not sure what the next stage will be, but you can be sure I will document it. It seems to be a tradition now.

House Progress . . . and Rabbits

 

So! When we last left our intrepid house-rehabber, he had pulled down the ceilings and was slowly and arduously wheelbarrowing the detritus into the dumpster parked outside the house. He also continued removing paneling from the walls to expose the original stone or plaster, revealing all the many colors the house was painted inside at one point.

He definitely filled that dumpster, which was picked up last week, but he did not quite finish the clean-up. Even absent that handy dumpster, however, the work must go on, so he started filling trash cans and old feed tubs for transport to the dump.

There are still a couple of rooms that need to be cleaned up, but it's beginning to look more like a house that can be worked on, rather than a house that should just be razed.

It's a long time before we will be inhabiting this house, but we've moved in some new tenants in the meantime.

Hasenpfeffer!

We have, in the past, discussed getting meat rabbits, but I'm always reluctant to add yet more animals to our menagerie. Unlike A. and the children, who want allll the animals. 

However, when our neighbor asked us if we would like to take his granddaughter's 4-H meat rabbits--she's no longer doing 4-H, and he's a cattle rancher, not a rabbit-fancier--I couldn't really say no. He wouldn't even take any money for the rabbits. Or the home-built hutch he insisted we take, as well. Or the half-full bag of rabbit food he likewise bestowed upon us.

So now we have six meat rabbits. Two bucks, and four does. 

Our neighbor had them all in the hutch, but we felt bad having them in such a small enclosure.

Jasper sat here by the hutch for HOURS the day we brought the rabbits home. He wasn't the least aggressive, interestingly, he just appeared fascinated. Maybe he thought they needed herding.

Rabbits can actually be somewhat difficult to keep in, due to their habits of digging and gnawing. That's why we put them on the concrete porch of the casita next door. No rabbit is gnawing or digging out of a concrete-floored room with concrete walls. 

We were originally going to separate the bucks with two does each by having the white ones in the casita and the brown ones in the hutch, but we decided instead to put a divider down the center of the casita porch so the brown ones have more room, too. A. is going to do that today.

We might have to use the hutch to separate the bucks after the does have babies, because we're not sure how aggressive and problematic the bucks might become with the young. To be honest, we're not sure about anything, because we've never had rabbits before.

We'll learn, though. And isn't that what life is all about? Growing and learning every day?

Right. Or something.